Neitra

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. A bride gawks at me cladded in a expensive heavy maroon lehenga with diamond jewellery.

"You look so pretty", Mom gushes. However her words fall deaf in my ears as I continue glaring at the mirror.

Pretty?

"I worry about her sometimes, who would marry her with a chubby body and big nose. I wish she would listen to me and start checking on her diet." My mom said to her friends.

"She is just a teen. Chill Revati." Her friend laughed at her remarks.

I heard all of it, from behind the curtains.

With my head hung low I retreated to my room, and cried.

"You haven't changed a bit.....still my calm quiet baby girl", she cooes softly.

I jump back to the reality.

She ushers the makeup artists and others out of my room but stays in herself.

"Hm. Mumma beti talks ..just like old time", why is she acting as though everything is fine between us.She kisses my forehead and pulls me in for a selfie. "My beautiful baby."

She is wearing a costly banarasi red saree and gold jewellery. She is so beautiful, even now. I turn towards the mirror again. And once again it complains about my ugliness.

A big nose.

She sits in front of me. "You're going to be a wife today, a bahu and one day a mother too." Her eyes turn glossy where as the mother word doesn't leave my brain.

A mother?

What sort of mother I'll ever be? What kind of wife? I am taking nothing but my traumas to my new home. To people who don't even deserve it.

Kaveri aunty how sweet and innocent she appeared who knows this could only be a show off. Subhangi was being clingy and playful all the time. Bhabhi bhabhi bhabhi.

Wife. Bahu. Bhabhi. Mother.

These words are infuriating.

I'm going to do the same thing that I dreaded. Getting myself into relationships , they do nothing but destroy you......no matter how close they are.

"I know you will take care of everyone. Treat them as your own. I have instilled those cultural manners in my gudia. Hai na?"

Gudia the term she used of to manipulate me always like she is doing now. Never till this time she said take care of yourself too.

These little things stopped hurting me after that gut choking incident of my life. There's nothing left but some blank relations now.

How I thank God for not letting that.....that monster crash into my wedding.

My breathing accelerates just at the thought of him.

Come back Neitra. Come back. I coax myself. You're safe.

"Bahar chale?" I nod.

I get down the stairs and reach the huge gate which would open me to a new life. "I'll walk alone." I declare.

Although she is a little hurt but I don't care. She nods her head.

The gate swings open and I stand at the long pathway which leads to the alter, where my groom stands beside his father dressed in body hugging sherwani and sehra. Our eyes lock and he releases a sigh...mutters something.

I start to walk down. Alone like I always had.

The hall is filled with guests gushing and laughing. I recognise few relatives some recognise me. I continue to walk with a straight face.

He offers his hand as I reach. Against my wish I keep my hand in his.

Male proximity always had me hyperventilating, but surprisingly his hand comforts me.

"Badi pyari lag Rahi ho, Shona." Kaveri aunty says and applies me a kala teeka. "You too aunty." After so much difficulty I manage to speak up.

"It's Mumma now", she pinches my cheek playfully to which my father in law laughs. I give a small smile. "Mumma."

Mumma, a sense of familiarity fills in.

Shubhangi comes with a aesthetic garland in a huge metal plate from Abhay's side. Where as my brother comes from mine. Dressed in cute sherwani, he gives me a flying kiss.

I turn towards him and our eyes meet. My dark with his light grey ones which doesn't meet his any of the parents.

He makes me wear the garland and whispers, "Will stunning work because I'm out of adjectives right now?"

Stunning. I try to see my reflection not in a mirror this time but in his eyes. Stunning, the word rings in my head like a beautiful charm bell.

"I'll kill you if you bend", a man nearly as the same age as he, says out loud as my turn to put the garland comes. Maybe his friend named Rishi or something.

I want to glare the life out of him because I really hate dramas, but it would come out as rude.

Before Abhay could say anything his father pushes his head down in front of me, "abhi se hi adat daal le!" The hall fills with laughter and chaos. Without wasting a second I garland him.

We are soon moved to the mandap after changing our clothes according to the norms. The priest starts chanting the mantras.

We are asked to take seven rounds of the holy fire. Four when he leads and three when I do with pouring puffed rice into the holy fire.

Panditji asks us to repeat the sacred vows after him which I am in no mood to open my mouth. They are nothing but a scam ....a scam that ties you to responsibilities with no love and support killing every ounce of patience.

Surprisingly he repeats everything he has been asked to and does every ritual precisely.

We sit again and now comes the time for Kanyadaan.

My parents come and sit at the mandap and I'm asked to sit close to my dad. I watch his shaky hands and tear filled eyes....never have I ever seen my father so vulnerable even when he got angry at me.

What does that mean? Does he really love me? But does it matter now. Even he chose his son, his hier over me and left when I needed him the most.

Love demands actions which I never got from him.

He puts my hand in his, he actions Abhay though his eyes. Maybe to take care of me.

Even if it sounds obnoxious I don't need anyone. Each time I burnt I rose again just like a phoenix.

His hand touches the nape of my neck while tying the mangalsutra. He is having trouble locking it and each time he breathes goosebumps erupt on my skin. The chain suffocates me. He suffocates me.

He fills my partition with vermillion while my eyes are closed by some random giggly aunty. Later my mother and other married women extend the vermillion from my nose to my partition as per our culture and I'm handed the bottle of sindoor as a precious possession.

"Vivah sampann hua" the priest says. The same time the dhol starts with jhal which consume the entire Var

anasi as the Sandhya aarti begins.

"Lo ji ab mahakaal ka ashirvaad bhi mil gya." My father in law says beaming.