The day you went away
That day still remains afresh in my memory and heart. I was in my bridal attire with my gold and diamond jewellery adorning and adding to my beautiful presence. There was a cheerful chatter echoing in our small house. Relatives, cousins, aunts and grandparents were all tip toeing around carrying flowers, fruits, incense sticks and urns of various shapes. They had colored water of all sorts. The red one for my feet, the yellow one for your welcome and sandalwood paste with its inherent divine fragrance kept ready in small silver plates to be applied to the guests’ foreheads.
The canopy or pandal was vibrant with all the hues of the world and its tapestry flew high as the breeze hushed by. The pundit had already arrived and was setting the fireplace for the sacred matrimony.
The holy fire, that represented purity and infinity of two souls in union was ablaze spreading that fragrance of camphor and ghee.
I was being escorted to the mandap by my family while you sat lost in your thoughts waiting for the ceremony to solemnize quickly. Suddenly, I saw you taking a phone call and your face changing from a bright happy one to ashen. You looked blank as your wrinkled forehead creating a mosaic of expression mirrored the turbulence of your emotions within you.
I saw you getting up suddenly and you were surrounded by many questioning faces.
You just said “I have to go”
And taking brisk steps you suddenly left us all in a bizarre, awkward state of turmoil.
I saw my father running after you, my uncles holding you, patting you and cajoling you to stop but your steps did not waver. You were determined. I saw you look at me in a glance which had become stony and lost the luster of emotions that used to be nestled in your watery eyes.
You were going for your Nation…..your mother….your first love which had needed your services during this stage of war which had erupted suddenly.
It took me a while to come to my senses and decipher what was going on. I ran, holding my lehenga in a gather, my anklet bells pleading to you to stay back.
No Prateeksha…..I will not enslave you to an illusion of marriage which may not even stay for a week. I may not survive the war and may not return. It is better to be called unmarried than my widow…….You went on as I fell down unconscious.
…………………………
Days, months and years passed and as I true to my name Prateeksha, am waiting to meet you in the other world. Marriage is of the souls more than the bodies.