Cupid never had a chance in their messy, parental-restricted love story
Karishma Jha, a twenty-one-year-old recent graduate with the world at her feet if only she chose to face it. Plagued with the worries of the future and yet healing from the scar...
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I used the first two days of my unexpected long weekend to get some work done. Big surprise there. I knew there would be some people to say that I gave too much priority to my work and then I would let my bank statement do the talking for me.
Money, though always an advantage, was not the only thing that my job provided.
It stopped me from letting certain someone take over my thoughts as well as feeling guilty over the emails I had sent.
Talking to him, over the phone and within the comforts of my own house, it was easy to let my guard down and forget who I was and where I was in my life. I had no business entertaining the thoughts of another man when I hardly ever spared my fiancé any thought
To some, it might be a red flag, the lack of letting them take over my thoughts, but I say that walk in my shoes first. I had done that silly heads in the clouds, butterflies in the stomach, walk in the air- love. You pretend you can fly, you get your face smashed into the ground. A fair bargain, I believed
Love like that was an unicorn. Pretty to imagine and think about. But if a one-horned horse ever comes in my sight, you can bet your ass that I am moving out of its way.
It was moronically idealistic.
Relationships in real life involve real people. Especially in a long relationship like marriage, some skeletons are bound to pop out of the closet. You just need to decide if you are willing to help the other person to shove them back inside.
So on Sunday, I texted Abhay to ask if he would be free for a date night at his place. Checking out the closet was the first step.
Ringing the doorbell, I shifted the boxes of pizzas in one hand while I patted my hair down with the other. It was crazy windy outside and I made the mistake of leaving my hair down.
The door opened and my smile wilted as I saw it was his mother. I had even texted Abhay from outside his house to make sure he was the one to open the door.
She greeted me with a nod and I followed behind to entire the living room of their three-storeyed house. Abhay's siblings occupied the upper two floors while he lived on the ground floor with his parents. His father greeted me from their open kitchen and I returned it by joining my palms.
Pulling the pallu over her head, his mother signaled him to follow her into their room. Assuming the invitation wasn't extended to me, I made my way towards the sofa.
Aunty must have kept a maun vrat (a fast from speaking). Abhay's family was deeply traditional and religious, holding their ethics and culture above everything else.
Our marriage almost sounded like the start of a joke. An atheist married into a religious family.
I wondered if I would have to cover my head after marriage. Or at least wear a saree. That might be a problem since it took a whole hour and three sets of pins for me to drape a saree over myself.
