She had imagined this day for as long as she could remember. The first time she had been to a wedding, she was two and a half. All that glitter and glamour and uninhibited laughter had haunted her since then and countless hours have been spent of her next 24 years, thinking up the intricate details of her Benarasi and the exact pattern of Chandan on her forehead. She had overseen all the arrangements. From the design of the lavender coloured invitation card to the exact arrangement of the buffet, it was all perfectly done, with an intimate accuracy.
As the ceremony progressed steadily, with the ghee-scented fumes collecting overhead in a thick, heavy mist, she suddenly looked up across the fire.
There sat the man, who has been chosen from the 389 matches that has been suggested to her by 2 different matrimonial sites and the Sunday columns of ABP. The families were comfortably similar-minded, the boy held an enviously high post in a Government job, and, over the chats they have had in the last 2 months of acquaintance, has promised her infinite luxury and unquestioned respect.
Still, looking at the random trajectory of the beads of sweat on his fair, glowing forehead, she couldn't help but ignore the weird feeling tightening up in her chest. As the precise Sankrit utterings of the priest was shortly being followed by a soft buzz-like mumbling from those thoroughly unknown lips sitting across the fire, she for the first time considered not getting married at all.
A strongly built hand came forward to smear her forehead with a bright burst of vermilion.
As the ceremony progressed steadily, with the ghee-scented fumes collecting overhead in a thick, heavy mist, she suddenly looked up across the fire.
There sat the man, who has been chosen from the 389 matches that has been suggested to her by 2 different matrimonial sites and the Sunday columns of ABP. The families were comfortably similar-minded, the boy held an enviously high post in a Government job, and, over the chats they have had in the last 2 months of acquaintance, has promised her infinite luxury and unquestioned respect.
Still, looking at the random trajectory of the beads of sweat on his fair, glowing forehead, she couldn't help but ignore the weird feeling tightening up in her chest. As the precise Sankrit utterings of the priest was shortly being followed by a soft buzz-like mumbling from those thoroughly unknown lips sitting across the fire, she for the first time considered not getting married at all.
A strongly built hand came forward to smear her forehead with a bright burst of vermilion.
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