I glared at her picture through the smoke rising from the joss sticks alongside.I still couldn't believe it. A part of me knew that she was gone, but I refused to agree. One by one, all my friends left. And here I was, with my head sunk deep into despair. I wished I had the slightest of courage to face my family, especially my father. It had been a couple of years since we talked emotively.
*********************
My marriage was not one of those moments that ought to be cherished, by me or by my family. In fact, it turned out to be an event to fulfill the obligations on our parts respectively I married because my father would be saddened to see me unmarried. He got me married because he felt obligated to do so by virtue of a good father. It was akin to a funeral given the lull and ire that accompanied the whole ritual.
I remember my elder brother's marriage. I had never seen my father that excited and my mother that energetic in the 27 years that I had known them. My grandmother oozed with exuberance, after all it was her eldest grandson's marriage. They had all come - tauji, mamaji, mausaji, fufaji etc. and their respective families.
It was more of a festival than a ritual! For them, not for me however. I was charged with so much responsibility and work that I hardly had the time to relax and rejoice the fact that my elder brother was getting married. My cousins would tease me as I rushed in and out - "Dewar ji! Get something for Bhabhi too!" Indeed , it was a festival.
*********************
A year had passed since then. And it now knocked my door - the dread of marriage. Even before my elder brother's marriage, I had proclaimed aloud my averseness to it. And I reiterated it vehemently when my father first mentioned a marriage proposal to me. With each passing month he would come up with new proposals and new ways to persuade me, and it irked me more and more. Half a year had passed in this exercise and the temperature had started to rise on either sides. My father was getting tired of my obduracy and I hated his. Both of us thought the other to be stupid. There were questions that had to be answered -
Why did not I want to marry? and Why was it so important to my father that I get married?
contd..
*********************
My marriage was not one of those moments that ought to be cherished, by me or by my family. In fact, it turned out to be an event to fulfill the obligations on our parts respectively I married because my father would be saddened to see me unmarried. He got me married because he felt obligated to do so by virtue of a good father. It was akin to a funeral given the lull and ire that accompanied the whole ritual.
I remember my elder brother's marriage. I had never seen my father that excited and my mother that energetic in the 27 years that I had known them. My grandmother oozed with exuberance, after all it was her eldest grandson's marriage. They had all come - tauji, mamaji, mausaji, fufaji etc. and their respective families.
It was more of a festival than a ritual! For them, not for me however. I was charged with so much responsibility and work that I hardly had the time to relax and rejoice the fact that my elder brother was getting married. My cousins would tease me as I rushed in and out - "Dewar ji! Get something for Bhabhi too!" Indeed , it was a festival.
*********************
A year had passed since then. And it now knocked my door - the dread of marriage. Even before my elder brother's marriage, I had proclaimed aloud my averseness to it. And I reiterated it vehemently when my father first mentioned a marriage proposal to me. With each passing month he would come up with new proposals and new ways to persuade me, and it irked me more and more. Half a year had passed in this exercise and the temperature had started to rise on either sides. My father was getting tired of my obduracy and I hated his. Both of us thought the other to be stupid. There were questions that had to be answered -
Why did not I want to marry? and Why was it so important to my father that I get married?
contd..
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