Eternal Spring in her heart

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental.

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Meg was staring deep into the night that grew darker by the minute. The dark seems to grow onto her, pushing her into the deeper realms of a restless night and a dreading slumber of thoughts. The numbness of her decision finally sunk in and the reality caught her off guard. “You need to take this decision eventually, what difference would it make, if it is now or a year from now?”, her conscience probed. She delved deeper into her thoughts, figuring out the paths to tread, yet, every path seems to be filled with thorns. She feared none of those, just her heart, which seems to dread the doom she is willing to walk into. With a restless mind and a strangled voice inside her, she sunk deeper under the covers and closed her eyes, tears trickling down from the corner of her eyes.

“Stop”, she commanded, yet the tears did not stop. “Get a grip, this is your choice”, she told herself unsuccessfully. She laid awake, eyes open, staring at the darkness before her eyes and as the night slid into the dawn, she carefully breathed in and out, calming herself and trying not to think about the magnanimity of the task ahead. She could hear the voices outside her room, chattering and as the day unfolded, she lay awake, mute to the growing lead in her heart. The house was a buzz of activity. People everywhere, lights everywhere, just her room was empty and quiet. She relished the moment’s tranquility. This might perhaps be the last day she could enjoy this solitude, in her own space, her space. There might not be anything that she could call as ‘mine’ and feel the pride of it any longer. Any moment now…

She heard the careful opening of her door and she could hear footsteps.
“You need to get up”, her mom said, rocking her gently. She sighed silently and took a deep breath and popped her head from under the mattress.
“Congratulations! You are about to begin a new life today”, her mom said. She smiled and sat up. Her grandmother walked in with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, God, this is it, it is really happening”, she thought. She got up and hugged her granny and without looking at anyone, went into the bathroom.

By the time she was out, the house was uproar of activity. The chatter fell like a stroke of hammer on her head, the noise nauseating. She looked around her room, the memoirs of friendships shared, her career graph, her diaries where her personal thoughts were jotted in moments of harmony and restlessness, her bed stuffed with soft toys. This room epitomized ‘her’ in every word. There was no space for another in this room, every one is an invited guest and none a master of this room, except her. She opened her cub board and fondly touched her books, looking at them longing to get hold of one and settle down on her bed. But that will have to wait, she admonished herself. Then a quiet voice reminded gently, that she might never find time for her books. The unsettling in her pit took a new level at that thought. She closed the door and walked into the living room and heard her aunt say, “here comes the bride!!”.

She stood there awkwardly, waiting for someone to tell her what she had to do. She needed caffeine in her system, but she could not eat today, their customs deciding that for her, the bride should eat the first morsel of food with her husband, from the half that he had to offer. The atmosphere had a strange sense of weight in it. It seemed like everyone was happy, yet unhappy. She looked around, her eyes searching for her father, knowing that this is as difficult for him as it is for her. He was the only man she knew and from today, the fate’s iconic irony, a man who did not know her for twenty five years of her life will share her life for the next thirty years, perhaps, deciding for her, the choices she had to make. She cannot pout as she did with her father, she cannot argue or put forth a point without the fear that she might be misunderstood. She found him in the kitchen talking to her mom. She walked to him, held his hand and stood closer. Though the emotions were threatening to come out, she stood quietly, trying to share their happiness. He took her closer to him and kissed her softly on her head. They stood there silently for a few moments, in the rare privacy of the day. The bear hug reassuring, yet reminding her that this would never be the same again, making her wonder, would she ever feel the same strength in the reassurance ever, from anyone. Would the person she is marrying carry the same amount of love for her? Would he be capable of reassuring her? She is independent, but that was with the strength that she walked back to the familiar four walls every night and the comfort of her space giving her solace and confidence. Now, she is moving to a new territory, will she be confident of her step? Will she falter? Will he hold and steady her and correct her, if need be? Will he give her the silent treatment if she did something wrong? Or will he fight it out and argue his point and listen to hers and before the end of the day, conclude on a common ground and begin the next day with a new outset, rather than carry the grudge of the previous day? Her fears are basically because of moving to a new territory. It is not like some technology, where she could read and learn and practice and couple of wrong things, the max that would go wrong is a day’s effort. She could relearn and try something different, but if things went wrong in her marriage, she will regret for life, altering her and his life, rocking it to a storm and killing them both. She saw enough couples who did not settle the tiffs and let the relation turn sour and poisonous, eventually killing the love between them. What if?

She let go of her father’s hand and stood there, quietly. Her mom was asking her if she needed coffee. She looked at her, the rock she had been and wondered if she would ever be such a good mom to her kids. She saw her mom glancing at her father and he let himself out of the kitchen quietly.
“Are you alright?”, her mom asked.
Am I alright, she thought.
“My life is taking on a course from which there is no return, the new twist offering no promise or clue as to how it would be. There is no crash course anywhere that teaches me what to expect going forward and there certainly is no time to psyche myself up. Yes, as a girl, I should have psyched myself from when my friends started having boy friends, but I was too busy studying and making grades that I did not have time to understand the nuances of entertaining a guy in my life. When my friends were getting married, I was too busy slogging my ass to keep the job I had. And now, I am standing here, with less than a day of normal life and you ask me if I am alright, so what should I say?” she mulled over the question and gave a silent nod and moved out. Her room was filled with people, each talking to one and all, about the saree they would be wearing, their jewellery - typical woman talk.

She was having hard time finding peace, within her and outside her world. The clock kept ticking, the day progressed. Her mind took a leave for the day and her heart was working over time and the ramifications of the task ahead seem to trouble her more than she cared to comprehend. And all of a sudden everything seemed quiet. Someone was pulling her, she walked like a zombie into the room. She was asked to wear a saree and to get moving, that the things are supposed to move on. She wore her saree and walked out and could see her friends in conversation with her mother. They looked at her and broke into smiles and each took turn of giving her a warm squeeze, wishing her congratulations. Everyone seems to be happy, but her heart was singing a different tune and she could not share the happiness. She was too weighed by the prospect of the day that she had hard time focusing on anything. Someone was doing a make over of her, and someone was painting her nails. It looked like everyone decided to give her their own brand of torture and she was the scapegoat and the entire house, a slaughter house.

After what looked like two hours of painful crucification, she was pushed out of the house and into the car. As though the weight of the task was insufficient, her saree and the gold that adorned her, weighed her down even more. She did not bother looking at herself. She knew that no matter what they did, they cannot find the beauty that would wash a guy off his feet, not today. Her friends were pulling her leg, each offering their share of experiences of the day. One of them held her hand and squeezed it softly. She looked at her, her expression speaking everything and nothing. A moment’s understanding and everyone suddenly seemed to understand the atmosphere and silence fell in the car. They reached the function hall and they all walked to the second floor that seemed to be the bride’s waiting room. There is no chance for tears now, she should will her heart to look forward and into the future. Not think of past, not think of the things that are shut in the locker of her heart, the things that are trying to find a creek from which they can surface. Today, of all the days, there cannot be any mistakes. There are too many things at stake. And above all, her parents happiness is at stake.

Pari, closed the door to her room and came close to her and gave her a hug.
“Asking if you are ok, would be stupid, so let me just say, if you want to cry, it is ok, we have the emergency face pack ready”, she tried a raw humour. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and looking at her friend, Meg could only manage what can be considered a half-hearted chortle.
“There cannot be any mistakes today. I cannot afford another mess up, Pari, talk something, anything to keep my mind off the day ahead. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to get it over and done with”, she said.
Pari opened her bag and gave her a book and asked her to read it. Meg looked at the book and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Thankyou”, was all she mustered to say.
“Go ahead, read for a few minutes, there is still time”, Pari said.

Meg flipped through the pages, words relieving her mind of every thought and slowly chipping away the edginess she felt. A few minutes and she started feeling better, the silence giving enough grit to her determination of getting through the day without a tear being shed. There was a knock on the door and a couple of her friends walked in. Everyone knew what Meg was going through and stood as a rock behind her, every step of the way. Meg looked at them and smiled, letting them know that she was OK. And the room and the floor, started filling in, as her relatives started walking in. There was blaring music outside, and the bridegroom might have just arrived. Meg hugged herself closer and asked for the door to be shut. She took deep breaths, waiting for someone to call her. She waited like a prisoner waiting for her sentence and the wait seemed to last forever.

Things moved too fast for her comfort. It seemed like yesterday that her engagement was done and she did not even get her head around the concept of a guy, before her marriage date approached. She hardly had a chance to get comfortable with the guy, though she was happy to just be left by herself. The occasional calls from the guy were like mild strokes, producing perspiration and bursts of nervousness that she never knew existed. The calls were short and one sided. He took it that she was very shy and tried making her comfortable, albeit unsuccessfully. And today, twenty days from the day she got engaged, she is sitting in this room, on the other side of the wall, of his room and tried recollecting his name. It was not like her parents forced her into this, but she was tired waiting for the right guy or perhaps because of the understanding that there is no right guy, she conceded for the marriage. They did not force her, but that is what parents are adept at, to make their children do what they want them to do, without having to say anything. She could see the frail figures of her parents, raising the topic of marriage as though they were committing a cardinal sin. It hit her then, the unfairness of it all. Since when did she become intimidating to them? Since when did that wrench of aloofness slip in their relation? For God sake, she was their daughter, and then it dawned on her, that they waited for the right time, for her to come out of her cocoon. She asked them to look for a proposal, with the promise that the marriage would be as soon as possible. And that is how she was in this position, with no time to understand anything. Though she never rushed things, she felt she needed to rush this or she would chicken out and would never ever find a companion, if only for the heck of it. And now, she contemplated if that was right. The guy seemed to be alright. He seemed to be patient, witty and thoughtful. But aren’t all guys like that, until shit hits the fan?

The ceremony of marriage seemed to take forever. The wedding chants were unheard. Her father was giving her away, tears rolling down his cheeks and she could hardly control him. Then she sat next to her husband, her new position as his life partner. The guy proved his compassion, by asking if she was alright when she sat next to him. She nodded, managing a smile.

After the entire ceremony, during the photo shoot, he introduced his friends, who seemed to be appraising her, the girls in particular saying kindly that they looked good together. Meg wondered if it was true. She still needs to look at him.
“I know you are worried, but remember, we both are in the same boat and I share the same worries too”, he said quietly. She was startled to feel his breath so close to her. He seemed to have understood and took a tiny step further, nothing anyone would frown at, but enough to make her understand that he could understand her body language. They sat on the chairs arranged for them as her friends walked in a huddle and introduced themselves to him. Meg was getting worried that he might read too much into it, when Pari said, “We are not asking for a share of him, you could have just allowed us to warn him of the little hellion you are.”

He seemed to be rather amused by the idea and said, “I look forward to it. She seems to be a puzzle that I will never fully solve, but it helps to know the pieces to fit them together.”

“Oh, let me tell you a secret, all girls are puzzles that cannot be solved, but there is a small crypt that automatically solves all the puzzles, its called love”, she said, knowingly. Meg felt like kicking her and gave her a scowl. But he took it pretty well and said, “I will remember that and perhaps give you a chance to appraise me a couple of weeks from now, or rather, give you a chance to interrogate your friend and find out if I am the gentleman or not.” The realization of the private couple of weeks dawned in on Meg and she began twiddling her fingers nervously. Pari held her hand and gave him a smile and moved out of the way, when others introduced themselves and cracked a few jokes on Meg.

He noticed the nervousness in her and looked at her, trying to find out if something was wrong. She could feel his gaze on her and respectfully bent her head.

“Congratulations Meg”. She looked at the familiar voice and broke into a smile. She stood and introduced them, “My colleagues.” He shook hands with everyone. She noted that he stood almost immediately as soon as she stood and he mimicked her attitude, in terms of respect and cordiality with her colleagues. The gestures seem to rub a comfort she hadn’t felt in sometime. After a quick photo with all of them, they were left alone again.

“Meghana… it is a beautiful name.”, he said, trying to make an attempt to break the ice. She politely nodded. After a full minute of silence, she began wondering if she was supposed to say something.
“Do you know that I Love Maggie?”, he asked, knowing full well that her closest friends called her Maggie and perhaps she was reading too much into that simple sentence, but she felt he was saying that he loved her. For the first time, she looked at him and saw him giving a lopsided smile with a wicked glint in his eyes.
She heaved a sigh of relief and said, “thank god, I don’t have to worry about meals everyday.” A look of shock crossed his face and before he could recover she looked the other way, suppressing her smile at his reaction.

“That was the first time I saw you smile and it is beautiful”, he said. She bent down her head and murmured a thank you.
He could see her hands clenched into fists and could feel her raw nerves. He reached out to touch her hand tentatively. She was startled by the movement, but did not shrug them off. He let his hands linger longer and she gave him a glance through the corner of her eyes, knowing that the guy is looking at her. The empathetic gestures seem to speak a lot more than words could possibly conceive and the locker in her heart threatened to open, but now is not the time. There is a time for it!!!

He slowly removed his hand from hers and looked forward and she too looked forward. Unknowingly, both looked in the same direction, as though looking forward to the journey they are about to embark upon, each with apprehensions, but his confidence rubbed onto her and she felt better than what she felt, when she woke up that morning. His compassion created an eternal spring in her heart and gave hope to the unspoken promises…