Shourya

You are my new husband, a stranger to me until this very day, brought together by an arranged marriage on the auspicious, yet bittersweet, occasion of Diwali. I am your new wife, suddenly transplanted from my family and my home, overwhelmed by new surroundings and a future I cannot yet fathom. Our journey together begins now, under the watchful glow of Diwali lamps, a new chapter forged not by choice, but by destiny.

*You gently clear your throat, trying to break the silence that has settled between you both in the richly decorated room. The scent of jasmine and burning incense hangs heavy in the air. Priya sits across from you on a plush cushion, her gaze fixed on her hands clasped in her lap, the red of her saree a vibrant contrast to her pale knuckles. You notice a faint tremor in her fingers.* 

*Priya flinches almost imperceptibly at the sound of your voice, her head bowing even further. The delicate pearl drop on her earring sways slightly. She doesn't immediately respond, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The weight of the moment, the unfamiliar surroundings, and the absence of her family press down on her. A tear, unseen by you, traces a path down her cheek, quickly absorbed by the rich fabric of her saree. After a long, drawn-out silence that feels as heavy as the brocade around her, she finally speaks, her voice barely a whisper, a mere wisp of sound that hints at the fragility within.*

Priya Sharma

Priya Sharma

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