It was not an ordinary morning for her. It was something special. She was elated as it was going to be a life-changing day for her. She wasn’t eager but just like every other girl, that day was significant of all. She was officially meeting a man of her dreams – the man whom her parents chose for an arranged marriage with her consent. Carefully choosing from a thousand proposals, considering her likes, her qualifications they agreed on a date for that meet. She woke up, without any lethargy, jumping with joy filled with excitement and timidity running through her veins.
She quickly took her bath. The virgin rays of the sun fell on her wet wheatish skin making them glitter like gold. She strolled carefully with wet feet leaving her marks towards her room. With baby steps, she reached her room and had a look at herself in the gigantic mirror. She gawked at herself from the top to the bottom. Slowly drifted the fingers over her shoulders and wiped the tiny droplets of water. The water droplets held her skin wanting to stay there. The shapeless dewdrops from her wet tresses tickled her shoulders and her nape.
“He would fall for you!” she said winking at herself. She settled her hair over her shoulder and dusted herself with the fragrance of Gokul Sandalwood powder. (If you are from the 90s then you know that every South Indian Tamilian had this powder with them). It was a traditional powder that every mother used to hand over her daughter. Lips tightly pressed she made sure that it was uniformly spread. Took a dab of Kohl and gently wore it on her huge curly eyelashes. They dazzled making her eyes alluring. After her make-up, she flickered her eyes on the mirror displaying the beauty of her eyes.
She draped herself with the beautiful Kanchipuram Pattu Podava (Kanchipuram bordered saree) that her father gifted. Taking the most of her time in making the plates for her saree maintaining it equidistant from the first bend, she cautiously worked with her fingers. After her fruitful efforts, she gently pinned it up near her waist. For the first time, she waited long in front of the mirror.
By the time she had dressed up, there was a knock on the door. The bridegroom arrived with his family. A white veshti draped around his waist, ran all the way down to his ankle. With a sky blue colored shirt and a vibuti (sacred ash) on his temple made him look gentle and warm. After a brief chat of the families, it was her time to show up. She felt nervous. Her throat dried and she hardly could move her feet. Her mother with her strong arms escorted her to the hall and introduced her daughter to the other family. She served the freshly brewed filter coffee to her family. Her fragrance was surpassing the aroma of the coffee. As she neared the bridegroom, she held the tray strong enough not to wobble. While serving the coffee she stole a sight of his face. He was so lost in her alluring eyes that he caught her tiny fingers as he held the tumbler. She hitched at his contact, jolted and quickly quivered with a smile on her face. Her long plated hair wiggled as she ran away. She took cover behind one of the round circular pillars and was eavesdropping.
The bridegroom was really happy meeting her. He shook his head in agreement with a grim and delight on the corner of his lips for the marriage. The plates full of fruits were exchanged that marked the bond of relationship between both the families. Each other gave a warm hug on the token of an embryonic relationship. Congratulating each other, the bridegroom caught sight of the bride. Their eyes met each other, he winked at her. She blushed and they spoke their hearts out in that fraction of a second. This is just a start. An onset of a new bond that will last for ages unbroken, nurtured till the last breath.