Anita's POV
Arranged marriages are a family tradition for us.
From the moment we are conceived, our destinies are sealed. My grandparents, with little regard for independence or individual choice, make promises to their friends, committing the future generations of our family to unions without our consent. This practice has affected all the members of my family, including my parents and sisters, who, like me, were promised into marriage before they were even born. Some of my sisters now have children.
The custom is as smooth as slicing a piece of cake because, whether you agree to it or not, you'll still have to marry.
It is my turn. It is my wedding day, a day that binds me to a stranger whom I have never met or spoken to. Because of tradition, I've never seen or heard his voice. They say until we are officially married. Though I am kept in the dark, I think he has definitely seen my photographs.
I sit nervously at the altar, waiting to recite the sacred vows that will forever change my life.
The heavy doors of the temple swing open with a resounding thud, breaking the silence in the quiet environment. A man clad in a pristine white sherwani strides down the aisle, his every step echoing through the hall. I steal glances at him from the corner of my eye, wanting to see his face. But despite my efforts, the sehra conceals his features from my view.
After he took his place beside me, my heart leapt with fear and anxiety. This is my groom, the stranger I have never laid eyes upon until this moment.
The presence of his proximity sends a shiver down my spine.
After the ceremony commences, he looks at the priest, and they recite the sacred vows, their voices melding with the sacred chants of the temple. Finally, I got to catch a glimpse of his eyes, which were as dark as the night sky.
When the ceremony came to an end, he lifted the sehra, and I was able to see his face. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. I was struck by his sight. His features are strong and defined, yet with a softness in his eyes that belies his stern exterior.
He turns to look at me, and for a brief moment, we lock gazes, our eyes meeting in a tentative yet intimate connection. I felt a spark of recognition in my heart, and within that brief moment, I felt at ease.
Perhaps this arranged marriage will not be as difficult as I had feared. His eyes seem to convey a similar emotion as mine: that we will be ready to build our relationship.
The priest asked us both to stand up for the wedding vows, and we made seven rounds around the fire, the echoes of ancient chants filling the room. After we returned to our seats, he lifted my dupatta and applied a pinch of vermillion powder to my hair. Then he placed the wedding chain around my neck, symbolising the beginning of our union.
With those gestures, I officially became his wife for eternity.
<<>>
I've been crying nonstop since we boarded the train, leaving behind my friends and family with all my belongings clutched to me tightly. Marriage, I've come to realise, is a cruel fate. Just a short while ago, I was eager to see my husband's face, but that excitement has worn off. The man appears to be completely uninterested in me. As soon as the ceremony ended, he coldly announced that we would be leaving. His expression was chilling, and his family seemed equally unenthused about our union. The train ride feels like a journey into a life of loneliness and despair.
We reached Banaras around 7 in the evening and arrived at their house around 8. The house was small, but it had a warm and cosy atmosphere. His sister showed me to his room, which was simply simple, featuring only a small double bed made of wood and a wooden drawer. After taking me there, she quietly excused herself, leaving me alone in the silence of my new surroundings.
I sat anxiously on the bed.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and my husband loomed in the doorway, his footsteps echoing through the room like thunder. My heart raced with terror as he approached me, his eyes fixed on me with an unnerving power. I clenched my skirt tightly, the fabric bunching between my trembling fingers, my mind racing with the information my mother had whispered to me about this night. The room seemed to shrink, trapping me in a prison of fear and uncertainty. I felt like a sacrificial lamb, offered to a stranger. My breath caught in my throat as he drew closer, his presence suffocating me more.
I cautiously lifted my veil, gazing at him and taking in his appearance. But instead of a loving gaze, I met a chilling sight. He was holding a pillow, his eyes piercing through me like icicles.
"Are you going to sleep elsewhere?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
His gaze raked over me, draining the last vestiges of courage from my soul. The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows cast by the flickering lamp twisting into mocking grins. I turned into a fragile leaf withering under his frosty stare while his eyes traced over my body in a way that sent shivers down my spine. "Do you honestly think I would share a bed with you?" His tone was subverted with disbelief and disdain, draining all warmth from the room.
"We're married, so we're supposed to sleep together..." His sharp tone cut me off, his voice dripping with venom.
"Not just me, nobody can bear to sleep beside you. You're a darkness, a curse, a harbinger of misfortune and suffering. You're like the darkest, most miserable nights, bringing only misfortune and suffering."
His words struck me like a slap, and tears burst forth from my eyes. The cruel taunts I had endured about my complexion from others now seemed small compared to the vitriol spattering from my own husband's mouth. The room grew darker, as if the shadows themselves were closing in on me, suffocating me with his hatred.
He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a deafening crash that made me jump out of my skin. The sound reverberated through my mind, leaving me shattered and trembling.
My tears flowed like a river, refusing to stop while I stayed awake throughout the night, my mind racing with dark thoughts of the future. The silence in the room mocked me, echoing with the cruel words he had hurled at me.
As the first streaks of sunlight crept in through the window, I rose from the bed, my heart still heavy with tears and my soul crushed by his cruel words. I made my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the family, just as I had always done at home. But I met my mother-in-law, who, on seeing me, gasped, and her eyes widened in surprise. She exclaimed, her voice shrill with reproach. "What are you doing roaming around with your face exposed like that? Anyone who sees you will have a disastrous start to their day." She hastened towards me and quickly draped my dupatta over my face as if it were a curse.
"From this moment forward, you must always keep your face hidden. Our troubles are already enough. Don't add to them by revealing your dark features." she decreed. Her words pierced my soul like a dagger, but I bit back my tears and nodded submissively.
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