“Look at her! She is enjoying herself to the fullest whereas my brother is sulking in guilt of having a daughter like her.” Anahita froze, listening to the bitter words directed at her and veered to see her evil aunt standing at the doorway, aiming a malicious glare at her. “You really have no shame.”

Anahita looked up at the ceiling and blew air on her pointy nails, “Well, I’ve gained this special power to stay immune to fake tears.”

Misti practically exploded at her casual manner. “How can you be so disrespectful that your father’s agony isn’t affecting you? A daughter like you should be dead by now.”

“What can I do, aunt? My mom didn’t teach me to suicide just because some stupid people have a prejudiced opinion about me,” She shrugged her shoulders, “You’re so full of loathe against me that you won’t leave any chance to slander me. But, let me make it clear to you; if my dad regrets my birth or if he is ashamed of my deeds, it is our business. Don’t poke your filthy nose in it because since you know I am a shameless girl, I can harm your prestige as well. You won’t try that now, will you?”

Scowl covered Misti’s face and Anahita gave her a tight lipped smile. “So, maintain a safe distance from me. And, if I’m not wrong, Manish bro is in LA, right? I have been on social media recently and I have noticed that some of his photographs showing sheer intimacy with this guy.” She shoved her phone at Misti’s face, “So, instead of spying on me, keep a check on him. Who knows he may bring you a son in law?”

Misti turned red in mortal rage and embarrassment as the beauticians also laughed along with Anahita. She opened her mouth to retort but Ruma appeared with her daughter to escort Anahita downstairs. Anahita left, passing a smug look to Misti.

*****

She descended the staircase followed by her cousins and aunt. Everyone was gaping at her wide-eyed, marveled with her invigorating beauty. Skimming a rough glance around, she noted that only close relatives and friends had made it to the wedding. She could count them on her fingers. Their wedding was scheduled in the evening, so guests were not aware of the eleventh hour alterations therefore, leaving most of them not attending the wedding.

Good riddance! She whistled in relief. The lesser people knew, the minimum rumors would be. She had already heard many stifled murmurs and her eyes hunted down her father who was standing in a corner, stone faced. The very sight of his brought pain and she looked away. Her attention was stolen by the sweltering heat and choking jewelry dangling down her neck that made her suffocated. Despite the air-conditioned hall, the warm gust of wind managed to slap her exposed skin and layers of makeup make her sweat profusely. Ignorant to her sufferings, the welcomed guests eyed her like she was a displayed object for their entertainment.

She sped up to tread the distance from the staircase to the dais where the wedding rituals were supposed to happen. The makeshift stage was prepared in less than two hours but it was breathtaking. A temporary column was stationed on the middle of dais to bolster the yellow tapestry canopying around. Each end of the flowing satin was tied up in circular post at four corners. White lilies and fresh roses were used for the flower decorations and bronze vessels were pillared in four ends of the dais. A white, cotton cloth (known as Antrapat) curtained the groom on the other side, parting the dais into two divisions and Anahita stood on the empty side.

Mrs. Maurya helped her to hold the garland in her hands and priest started chanting mantras. Anahita was getting super bored with the rituals; for starters – she didn’t understand a single word the priest uttered. They didn’t teach Sanskrit as major language in convent schools. Her feet had started to ache and she really wanted some activity but all she had to focus on not yawning. She always wanted a Christian wedding but had anything ever gone how she wanted!

At last, the priest chanted some verses and pulled the Antrapat down, allowing them to exchange garlands. Like a Christmas present being unwrapped, the cascading fall of clothe revealed a traditionally attired Yuvraaj. Except, Anahita never liked Christmas present. She bothered to look at him and gasped out. Her jaw hung immobile at his autocratic stance. He looked smoking hot in white, crisp Dhoti – Kurta. A conical, ornamental cap on his head and Mundavalya on his flawless forehead only made his fawn skin highlighted.

He hadn’t looked at her – not that she wanted him to drool over her but there was something – probably, gloom? – on his face that made her gasp. Her mother nudged her out of trance and she winded the garland around his neck. Amidst the hoots and whistles, the other rituals were performed. By the end, she was so tired and frustrated on the bald priest that she literally glared him.

He kept rattling her to get up and sit down and she counted sheep to calm herself until she could smell them. UGH! She assisted Yuvraaj in Havana, touching his elbow. They were asked to stand up for Saptapadi and while doing so, Anahita stupidly stepped onto her dress and lost balance. She steeled herself for mass humiliation but Yuvraaj gripped her waist and steadied her before she could hit the ground. “Careful!”

She gasped again. Twice, that happened and she jerked back from his touch, standing properly. They took the rounds of holy fire but Anahita was shivering – the experience of his cold fingers on his bare waist had caused the effect. The priest passed the box of vermillion to Yuvraaj, asking him to fill her parting and preaching about the importance of vermilion in the marriage.

Tears stung in her eyes as Yuvraaj’s fingers pinched the powder on her parting. She had always envisioned Mukund – taking oaths, rounding fire and taking blessings. It should be he to fill her parting and tie up Mangalsutra in her neck. But, nothing happened as she wished. She hated it – she hated her parents, she hated Yuvraaj and she hated Mukund as well for leaving her in dire circumstances.

The wedding got over and their parents had happy tears in their eyes to see them married. Finally! It was a mission accomplished moment for them. They congratulated each other and snagged the couple to embrace them. Anahita scratched her forehead and some of the vermillion dusted onto her nose. She was about to wipe it but Ruma impeded her.

“It's a good omen. Let it be.”

Pouting, she nodded. She didn’t believe in good omen because had there been any, she wouldn’t have been converted into Anahita Yuvraaj Prakash from Anahita Maurya. Her mother gifted her silver idol of goddess Parvati at the time of departure and she hugged her, monotonously before trudging to her father. She hadn’t cried a tear but watching the coldness in her father’s eyes, her eyes welled up. “I am so sorry, dad.”

She sobbed, watching that her father was rooted to his place and she draped her arms around his waist, resting head on his chest. “Say something, dad, please.”

“Go Anahita! They are getting late.” Mr. Maurya mouthed, coldly and distanced her. She shook her head, clutching him tightly. “No. I won’t go anywhere. I know you are angry but I am sorry, dad. Please forgive me. I can explain. Yell on me, slap me, punish me if you want but please don't be silent, dad. Let me know what is going on in your head.”

Mr. Maurya touched her shoulder and pulled her away. She noted his eyes were devoid of remorse as he uttered his next words, “This is not your home now. Yuvraaj and his family is all you have, now.”

Her heart thudded down in her stomach and she whimpered, “Dad!”

“Go!” He ordered, icily and she gulped, nodding. Tears blurred her vision as she retreated, looking down. She felt someone had snatched her existence. But, she had been humiliated enough. Wiping her tears, she pledged to never step inside the mansion that was once her home. She glanced at her father, hoping he would be regretting his words. He was not.

“I accept that I am the worst daughter, dad and you don't deserve me but you are no better. Even I don't deserve a father like you.” She whispered through her gritted teeth, “I will never step in your home again since you’ve made it clear that it’s not my home anymore. I am sorry that you had to put up with me till now. Congratulations! You’ve gotten rid of me.”

Denying another glance, she pranced out where the car was waiting for her and sat inside. That was what she had inherited from her father; rage and waywardness but she forget to acquire restrain. Restrain on her overflowing emotions. Covering her mouth, she cried bitterly on her miseries, on her father's coldness, on his words, on her mother's hatred, on her boyfriend's betrayal, on her husband’s arrogance and on her fate. She was daddy’s princess but her father refused support when she needed most. She failed to understand where her stars betrayed her.

***

Yuvraaj took blessings from his in-laws, promising that he would take great care of their daughter and ducked inside in his awaiting car to sit next to noisily crying Anahita. The car started rolling on and he grew awkward – anxious, precisely. He fiddled thumb on his lap, contemplating how to soothe her. He extracted a Kleenex pack from the globe box and offered her. Anahita was so engrossed in emptying her tear glands that she didn’t notice him until he tapped her quaking shoulders. She darted an angry glare at him and he held up the box under her nose, passing a tentative smile. She took the box, sobbing profusely and kept it on her lap.

Yuvraaj didn’t prod and let her cry but it seemed she was planning to cry until turn blind. They were on road since an hour but her crying didn’t reduce. He sized her up; she looked vulnerable and he got genuinely concerned about her. He sat up straight and cleared his throat, “Listen, it’s been an hour and you are continuously crying. Please stop lest you fall ill.”

“Just shut up, you insensitive jerk!” She shouted, blowing into the tissue and sniffed.

Yuvraaj clenched his jaw, glancing at their driver. He didn’t like being insulted and that too before his employees. His ego itched to retort but sensibility knocked him and he clammed up, drinking the bitter insult down his throat. She just has left her home; she is shattered. Cool down! He told himself and looked away. He didn’t bother her again and Anahita eventually stopped crying, resting her head on the window sill. She gazed at the passing landscape, aimlessly. Soon, they reached Prakash Villa and her mother in law helped her to climb out of the car. She smoothed down her dress and watched everyone getting busy in the preparation of her welcome.

The rituals didn’t surprise or excite her because of two reasons; one, she was already drained from excessive crying. Two, Prakash Villa was like her second home. She had spent eighty percent of her childhood in this home. She would often tramp in to complain about Yuvraaj, playing hide and seek with her sister in law and watch Cricket matches with her father in law. Once, Yuvraaj was gone to States for his studies, she began to spend more time in his home.

“Okay, enough for today.” Mrs. Prakash announced to everyone and smiled at Anahita, fondly. “You must be tired, honey. Go and take some rest. Gitika, show her the room.” Mrs. Prakash ordered her daughter and Anahita rolled her eyes. She knew the map of the house as the back of her own palm. Yuvraaj’s room was second to the right side of the staircase and she had been there for countless times but she let her sister in law led the way.

“Come in, Vehini.” Gitika twisted the knob, pushing the door open and revealed the monochromatic room. She sighed out, trotting in. The walls were coated in slate and white with the main wall having intricate patterns embellished in it. A granite slab was aligned on the wall and seventy inches chrome display was hung over it. Beneath the plasma, a three drawer cabinet was there, perpendicular to the four-poster King sized bed. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung above the glass coffee table, cluttered with cozy sofa around it in the centre of room.

A dresser was placed parallel to the bed and it opened up a small alley that led to the bathroom and walk in closet. The opposite side wall had an oblong window opened up and allowing fresh air to permeate. Anahita pushed away her sandals and perched on the bed, tired. She turned to the noise in the closet and Gitika came out, smiling at her. “I have already put your luggage in the closet, so you can get fresh and if you need anything, call me.”

“Sure!”

Gitika sashayed out, shutting the door behind her. Anahita cracked her neck and stretched her knotty limbs to shaken out the lethargy but she was really out of energy. She fell on her back and stared at the mosaic pictures above headboard. So much happened in a day for her to register; she ran from her home, her relatives proved her characterless, her parents abandoned her, she got married to a jerk and she was all alone. Her eyes drifted to the chandelier pointlessly and she began to count bulbs.

Suddenly, Mukund popped up before her eyes and she sat up straight, wincing at the sudden movement. She padded to the closet and rifled through her suitcase, retrieving her handbag. She fished out her phone and switched it on. Her eyes widened noticing hundred (literal) missed calls from Mukund. She quickly dialed his number, biting on her cuticle and paced a line.

“Hello!”

“What the fuck, Mukund! Hundred calls! Have you gone nuts?” She yelled, without greeting and hissed at him, “I had switched it off so couldn’t you wait for a while.”

“I am sorry, Anu. I forgot that you were busy in rituals. Anyway, I called to know if everything went smooth…or?” She puffed out a breath, sitting cross-legged and toyed with her bangles. “Yea, It is just dad hates me and mom doesn’t want to see my face but other than that, everything was smooth.”

There was silence on the other side before Mukund hushed, “I...I am sorry, Anu.”

“I lost everything,” she continued, ignoring his halfhearted apology. “My parents, my dignity and my home – everything is gone. You are the only person I have now. Please don’t leave me alone, Mukund.” She made a futile attempt to not sound vulnerable, needy.

“Don't cry, baby. I am not going to break your trust. I will never leave you alone. Just have patience. It's just the matter of five weeks.”

Yeah, just five weeks! Wait, what?

And her ears perked up. Her eyebrows collided together and she braced herself. Mukund was definitely going to throw a bomb on her.

__________

Hey, 

I know, I know I am late and I don't have enough apologies to offer but this will be the last 'late update' from my side. okay! I will try to update more regularly. Enjoy! Oh, there are a few things which I want to mention -

Vehini means (Sister in law)

Mundavalya is a piece of jewelry worn on forehead in Maharastrian weddings.

Mangalsutra is a holy chain of black and golden beads that signifies the bond of seven births.

Saptapadi is a ritual in which the couple takes seven rounds of the holy fire (again for the seven births) LOL.

Antrapat is a plain clothe that is held between the groom and bride before marriage and is only removed when the garlands are exchanged.

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