Sailing beyond the storm
for the Anthology -The Impish Equilibrium
Manisha became a bride at the age of twenty-one. Having just completed her B.Sc. in Botany, her father announced that his best friend’s family was relocating to their town. Hidden within that announcement was the subtle suggestion of Amar, their son, who had just completed his engineering degree and a master’s in computer science from the U.S. Amar had secured a prestigious job abroad, and his parents were actively seeking a bride for him.
When Amar’s family met Manisha, they liked her instantly. The wheels of matrimony were set in motion. Amar, however, had grand career ambitions and was not eager to marry so soon. But their families were more excited than the couple, and arrangements were swiftly made.
One evening, in the midst of relatives and friends, Amar’s father announced their engagement. The following day, in a simple ceremony, the family’s pandit conducted the ring exchange. While Manisha smiled and radiated joy, Amar’s expression remained stoic.
“Oh Amar! Why don’t you smile?” Manisha chided softly. “Are you not happy?”
“Of course, I am,” he replied, extending his hand for the ring.
Despite Amar’s reluctance, the couple soon tied the knot in a grand wedding ceremony filled with music, dancing, and the vibrant colours of lehengas swirling in celebration. The air was filled with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, and the sound of traditional instruments echoed through the air. Manisha’s entry into her new life seemed as perfect as any bride could hope for.
With confidence in both families’ deep bond, Manisha’s parents felt reassured that she would be well taken care of in her marital home. As she stepped inside, her right foot, painted with red aalta, left impressions on the floor. Amar’s parents welcomed her warmly, showering her with love and guidance. The first morning of her marriage, she made halwa, a traditional sweet dish, for the family. Laughter and joy filled the air.
The following days were a whirlwind of visiting relatives, and the newlyweds were treated to lavish meals everywhere they went.
“I’ll surely gain weight if this continues!” Manisha teased.
“Oh dear, in the U.S., you’ll be looking after both of you. Enjoy this pampering while you can,” her in-laws laughed.
Amar had made it clear that he intended to return to the U.S. soon, and Manisha would follow after her visa was processed. The thought of parting weighed on her, but the excitement of reuniting in their new home abroad kept her spirits high.
After months of waiting, Manisha’s visa finally arrived. The day she had eagerly anticipated was here—she was about to join Amar in the U.S. Her suitcases were not just filled with clothes but also with homemade treats from her family—pickles, laddus, and snacks like poha-chivda and masala pooris. Her mother had packed puran poli, while her mother-in-law sent her with spices and chakli.
As she arrived at the airport, her heart raced with excitement. She spotted Amar waiting for her, and she rushed into his arms, showing him her mehndi and the vibrant red of her chooda.
Amar smiled, taking her trolley as they headed towards their new home. The house was breathtaking—a stately blend of modern and classic architecture, surrounded by manicured gardens and a cobblestone pathway. The interiors boasted high ceilings, gleaming wooden floors, and large windows that bathed the rooms in sunlight. It was the kind of home Manisha had always dreamed of.
After freshening up, Manisha was eager to cook a meal for Amar. She mentally planned the menu, only to be interrupted by Amar.
“How was the journey? Make yourself comfortable. I have to head to the office for some meetings,” he said abruptly, leaving before Manisha could respond.
Hours passed, and Manisha’s excitement turned into boredom and loneliness. She decided to call Amar, who told her he’d be home soon—with a guest. Could she prepare something nice?
Happy to finally have a chance to show her culinary skills, Manisha quickly prepared a meal of aloo-gobhi-matar and paneer curry. As the doorbell rang, she rushed to welcome Amar and his guest, eager to make a good impression.
But her joy turned to confusion when a young woman with blonde hair entered alongside Amar. Without acknowledging Manisha, they walked in, engrossed in conversation. The woman, with an air of entitlement, asked Amar, “Who’s this?”
“Oh, she’s the new maid from India. I told you she cooks well,” Amar replied casually.
Manisha’s world shattered in that moment. She had been brought here not as a wife, but as someone to be treated like a servant. Shock, anger, and betrayal coursed through her.
“What is this, Amar?” she shouted.
“Keep your voice down! This is not India, where you can misbehave. And to be clear, she and I are moving in together,” Amar said coldly.
In that moment, Manisha realized she had been tricked into a fraudulent marriage. Devastated, she refused to cook or serve them, which angered Amar. He resorted to violence, pinning her to the floor. But when she threatened to call the police, Amar backed off and hurriedly left with the woman.
Manisha, sobbing and broken, called her best friend Sheetal in India. Sheetal, horrified by her friend’s ordeal, contacted a psychologist friend, Dr. Dorothy, who arranged for Manisha to be rescued from the house. The next day, Dr. Dorothy made arrangements for Manisha’s return to India.
Back home, Manisha was a shell of the person she once was. Her parents, though supportive, were heartbroken and struggled to come to terms with the trauma she had endured. Manisha’s days were filled with tears and sleepless nights, as she replayed the betrayal over and over in her mind.
Sitting by the window, gazing at the still trees and the parched landscape, Manisha could feel the weight of her broken dreams. Her therapist, Dr. Anand, had advised her to practice guided imagery—to focus on peaceful memories to ease her anxiety.
She opened her childhood almirah, filled with memories of happier times—trophies, certificates, and school photos. As she flipped through an old album, she found herself smiling for the first time in months.
Dr. Anand’s voice brought her back to the present. “Manisha, how are you today?”
“I’m trying to forget, Doctor, but the hurt feels unbearable. Why did he do this to me?”
“Let go of the hurt, Manisha,” Dr. Anand said gently. “Think of it as a nightmare. Remember the joy in your life—your school trips, your parents’ anniversary in Dehradun. Those are your true memories, not the pain Amar inflicted.”
His words were like a balm to her wounded soul. As they flipped through her old photos together, Manisha felt a flicker of hope. With time, and Dr. Anand’s guidance, she began to heal. Slowly but surely, she was learning to sail beyond the storm.
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Let go, let go the hurt,
Let it not circumvent your life in spurts.
Let go, let go the memories bad,
Life is not for you to be sad.
Let go, let go the dark past in life,
Heal your core, let go the strife.
Let go, and move on, let go,
Do not hold to grudges sore.
Manisha was finally ready to reclaim her life, one day at a time.