We both requested our wedding be simple. We didn't want all that grand stuff, considering the situation.
Simple, our wedding was not.
Our parents were elated that we said yes and immediately got to work. They repeatedly assured us that everything would be simple, but I guess their definition of the word was different.
"Everything will be red, of course, because we are traditional," Vivaan's mother, Jayanti Trivedi, laughed. She was a short and wide lady, with long, thick hair always worn in a braid. She seemed to love silk sarees, as she wore them everyday. "We've booked the place for the wedding. It is absolutely wonderful. There's a water fountain and a huge space for all the guests."
While my mother rubbed coconut oil in my hair, I smiled and nodded along, pretending I loved her ideas and that I didn't want to throw a dictionary in her face so she could look up the word 'simple'.
"We'll go look at wedding suits tomorrow," Mom murmured in my ear. Her voice was kind, asking for peace.
When I replied, my voice was cold steel, "You can go and find one for me, since you decide everything for me anyways."
No one heard what I said. My mother's hands pause in the massage, then resume a little harshly this time. Everyone else was busy chatting among themselves, and by everyone I meant all the family we had. Friends, cousins I'd never met, uncles I'd never heard of, strangers whose relation to me nobody explained. I assumed those strangers were from my future husbands side. Day by day, they poured in, loaded with their luggage that servants struggled to carry upstairs and find them a new room.
I didn't even think my uncle and aunt's place (the ones I met the day we arrived) had that many rooms. It was like a freaking hotel. We should be charging. Why were people from Vivaan's family coming to stay here anyway? Shouldn't they be going to their place?
I hadn't seen Vivaan again since the day we first met, and every time I thought about the fact that I will be marrying a person I only met once so far, a thick lump formed in my throat.
Because of that, I couldn't take any of this seriously. I wasn't as afraid as I probably should've been, because it all felt so sudden and unreal.
The next day, Mom went out to find my wedding outfit. I faked a headache in front of the others and stayed back. Jayanti and a few of her gossipy sisters (or friends? cousins? I couldn't keep track anymore after the five hundredth guest) insisted on going with her, but Mom told them this was something she wanted to do alone, and left. They thought nothing of her strange mood and continued to chatter on.
I didn't even need to pretend to look tired, and retreated to my bedroom. Most of the women spent their times downstairs where the living room and kitchen where joined. The men disappeared somewhere during the day and usually didn't come back till dinner. The women's voices were silenced as soon as I shut my door, but I could still hear an occasional, shrieking laughter from them.
The servants were preparing lunch, and the smell of curries, roti and tea floated through the house. My stomach was empty, but I couldn't eat. I picked up my phone for the hundredth time and once more debated checking my social media. I was afraid to. Afraid of what was waiting for me. I didn't want to tell Farhan until I was married, until it was too late to go back.
With a sigh, I let it fall back on my bed, following it a second later. I threw myself across the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wishing I hadn't been so careless that night. Then none of this would've happened.
I must've fallen asleep at some point and woke up to someone knocking at my door.
"Come in," I murmured, knowing who it was. Everyone else usually let themselves in, she was the only one who knocked.
Mom opened the door and peeked inside. My hair was probably sticking out in all directions from my nap, but she didn't say anything about it. "I found it," she said with a hesitant smile.
"Found what?" I then remembered she had gone out to find my wedding suit. Three hours had passed since she left. "That was... fast." I had expected it to take days to find something for my wedding.
Mom let herself in and shut the door behind herself. She hauled in a large clothing cover hanging over her arm. "I saw it and... I just knew it had to be yours."
I sat up as she laid it across my bed and unzipped it. The first thing I saw was gold. She pulled the covered off and splayed my wedding lehenga out. It was a beautiful deep yellow with gold patterned embroidery across the borders. The veil was elegantly made with spots of sequins, then bordered by gold stones.
For a moment, I forgot I was supposed to be angry at my mom. "But... everything's supposed to be red for the wedding. Traditional."
"I know."
I eyed her. She kept her gaze on the suit, admiring it. Feeling the need to further elaborate, I added, "Well, this isn't the traditional color."
"I know," she repeated without looking at me, then left the room.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of beauty treatments, tailoring and decorations. Indian weddings don't finish in just a day. They take place over several days. There are all these types of ceremonies that are completed. But strangely, by Vivaan's request, all those other ceremonies were cut out.
I wasn't sure whether to feel offended or not. Did this guy not want to bother with a proper wedding for me, or was he just that eager to marry me? In the end, I told myself, what did it matter?
Someone who did feel offended, however, was Jayanti. Vivaan's mother insisted that I was only agreeing with him because I was too shy to say otherwise.
"Really," I said over lunch as all the other woman bickered, "I don't mind. I can do without the other ceremonies. It'll save us time."
"Aaah," Jayanti gave me a mischievous smile and nudged my shoulder, "so you are just as eager to marry him as he is eager to marry you. Don't worry, we'll make sure everything is perfect for your nuptials."
She and her friends laughed, while I stopped eating. I hadn't realized. For a long time I had always thought my first time would be with Farhan. Now that was over.
That night, I rolled around in bed restlessly. All kinds of thoughts gnawed at me, and sleep was out of reach. A soft tap at my door made me sit up. It was almost three am. Everyone else was asleep.
I got out of bed and opened it without turning the lights on. Soft moonlight coming through my window illuminated Vivaan's face.
I almost didn't recognize him. He looked different. His hair was styled in a messy fashion, sticking out in a few places. He hadn't shaved for a while, and a light shadow defined his jaw. A small stud glinted on his left ear and he wore a frayed T-shirt that had specks of something white on it.
Paint, I realized. That was the smell on him I couldn't place the first time we met. So Vivaan was a painter.
"I almost forgot what you looked like," I couldn't help but say as soon as I saw him.
He leaned against my doorframe, hands in his pockets, slumped over as if tired. "May I come in?"
I stepped aside for him then closed the door behind him. Vivaan paused to glance around my room before turning to me. "My mom came to me today. She thought you might be upset because I told them not to do any of the ceremonies." With his back to the light, I couldn't see his face anymore. He paused. "Do you want to do it?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm fine, really. It didn't upset me."
"Good," he said. "I did it because I thought you'd feel less anxious, going through everyday, every ceremony, your fear and doubts growing worse as the wedding itself got closer. But I still want to give you time to make sure."
It took me a moment to realize he was waiting for an answer. "I'm sure," I said with a nod.
"Really?"
I tried not to hesitate. "Yes," I lied.
He didn't reply, and simply stood there for a while. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his gaze on me. I thought he was going to say something else, instead he walked over until he was in front of me. The smell of paint grew stronger. I suddenly didn't know where to look.
Vivaan took a hand out of his pocket and lifted my chin. His face stopped a few inches before mine, as if asking for permission. When I didn't say or do anything, he brushed his lips against mine. It was barely a kiss, and felt different to what I was used to with Farhan.
Vivaan pulled away just a second later and, without a word, left the room.
Alone, I stood in the middle of the room and stared ahead. The kiss was like a wake up call, and I was no longer going through everything in a daze. The touch of him made me realize what I was actually doing.
For the first time since I came, I broke into tears.