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.