Till The Sun Rises Again

Till The Sun Rises Again

I threw the newspaper on the floor in disgust: the matter at hand was graver than anything else in the world. There was a marriage-proposal for me. After all the criticism I had encountered, here was someone who considered me worthy of his daughter. Daughters are certainly the most precious possessions in the world, and I consider it an honour if one trusts one’s daughter to me. There were several queries in my mind, a lot of secrets would be exchanged in the days to come.

The opposition to matrimony I had been putting up had lost thrust now. There was a lack of fire in the denunciation of marriage I made as a consequence of the passage of time and the consequent flow of events. The  storm stirred up within me by the forces of  the devil was losing its force:  I had to plunge into the ocean now. I was terrified of the temperature-change my body was going to be subjected to as and when it came in contact with the water; it was going to be a powerful shock, but it would be alright once I get used to the water.

 The truth is that destiny has a large part to play in the game. It is pre-destined and pre-determined who I’m to marry, and when I’m to marry. Everything that happens, even the staunch opposition to matrimony I’d put up till now, and my willingness to take the plunge now were a part of the plan chalked out by The Creator. He has brought me to the individual who is going to herald a quiet and calm evening in my life.

The sun is setting over what has been the longest and the toughest part of my life. There are not many who find as much contemplative pleasure and satisfaction in a sunset as I watched the celestial event in the horizon that day. I turned my face from the spectacle if only for a few moments.

I measured the past years of my life carefully, and revered The Creator for chalking out my destiny in such a wonderful manner. No one can master the trick by which the performance has been orchestrated. Several artists have quit the stage, while quite a few await their turn behind the curtain to enact their part. A momentary turn of the head is enough to show the protagonists who insist on staying on the stage till the final act is enacted: I salute them.

The play is going to be staged even after the sunset. A long and dark night is to follow the sunset: a sunset that can be identified with human decline and death. But this has been reflected in a sunset many hundreds of times before this day. For a change, the setting of the sun is to be celebrated in a manner similar to the celebrations observed at the conclusion of forms of worship. Id-ul-Fitr and Id-ul-Azha are celebrated to mark the conclusion of forms of worship. Likewise, a festival is to be observed as I approach the end of my celibacy.

Matrimony is to mean I’m to find someone who is going to love me and only me. It is impartial and disinterested love that I crave for, and here was someone prepared to give it to me. Here was someone who was going to adjust the view from the windscreen of my life to suit my vision. I prepared myself to make a couple of changes too as I adjusted the optical lenses I use. A change may even be required to the frame of my lenses.

The sunset was followed by a catharsis similar to that when the soul departs from the body. Infact, I can feel quite a few souls departing from my body. My life has been riddled with quite a few episodes of puppy-love. This was going to be the end of all of them. All I can say is that they were not destined to be a part of me.

Fate and destiny had put all they had when it comes to the application of a shaving-razor over my life. They had brought down all stubs and had left absolutely no traces of happiness in my life. There isn’t even a moustache to symbolize a masculine smile.

The aura following the sunset remained in the horizon for a while before fading into the night. The night is merely a transitory phase, I know. There is a lot to bear and strive for as the sun rises again the next day.

The Next Day

The Next Day

The sun blazed down and down till it was within half-an-hour of its stetting. It was a hot and humid day in September. Though an air-conditioned car had replaced the erstwhile doli, yet nothing can ever dispel the affinity Indian brides have for the tears they shed during rukhsati. The drops of tears blended with the perspiration on her face; the combination threatened to spoil the make-up done at the local beauty-parlour. But all of it suddenly subsided when she joined me in the car.

The car had been decorated quite profusely to collate with the occasion. I wasn’t sure if I deserved all the attention and importance her parents were giving me.

A marriage is supposed to bring two individuals on a level platform, and yet I could sense her hovering above me in the air. I inched a bit closer to her to assure myself of her presence beside me. The days to come are not going to be easy, I can sense it in my bones.

I often see newly-wed-couples chilling out over a burger in McDonald’s. They cling each other’s hand quite tightly below the table. The freshness and novelty of marriage radiates from the young couple. I do wonder how many of them discover the eternal bliss they had bargained for. Will I be able to find it, or is it an ideal entity found only in books?

My thoughts came back to the young lady beside me as I felt her hand creeping over my hand. The car went over a pot-hole and she clutched my hand quite tightly for the sense of security associated with it. I couldn’t help smiling as I felt the powerful grip young ladies have. It reminded me of the agreement we had entered into the day before. I could visualise Zeenat in a concrete form in a couple of years. They fact is that I have a penchant for infants and the young lady holding my hand may be a solution.

There are many more problems she proposed to solve as she moved over space and time in the car seated next to me. I was going to solve some of her problems too, but her share of adversities appear insignificant as compared to mine. But it is human nature to belittle the problems others have. So, I may be helping her out of some graver issues than mine.

Like in typical Indian marriages, we knew very little of each other. The days to come were to unfurl our lives before each other. I braced myself for the many surprises to come my way. There was a typical ecstasy associated with relating and discovering dark and somber secrets; here was someone who was to narrate her secrets to me, and listen to mine.

The rear-view-mirror of the car we were in seemed to provide a glimpse of the dreams I had left behind. For a moment, I was caught by the contrast provided by my future sitting next to me, and the images of my past rushing by. I tightened my grip over her hand to affirm my eagerness to embrace the future.

We had missed the fun and excitement involved in stealthy conversations over mobile-phones. There was a lot that could be discovered through chat-sessions on messengers over the internet. Almost all youngsters do  it, but we did not.

We respected the trust and confidence our parents placed in us. I’m glad none of us violated their ideals. The young boys and girls who use technology to further their romantic dreams, in a way, violate the trust their parents place in them. We didn’t do it; we were not a part of the crowd.

The car-window provided a comprehensive view of the crowd rushing home after spending a day at work. I wanted to stand out of the crowd, if only for her sake, but I have been pushed down by time.

The twilight faded into the night as the car pulled into the railway-station. A train was to take us home, where we were to begin our lives afresh. The dawn of the next day was to find us opening the first chapter of our lives: together.