ANOTHER LOVE

"Love runs through your blood," they say. "But how do I force your ways of loving onto myself?" she questions.  

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. The smell of sugar-coated Rosh Gullas fills the house as the mashis spend their nights chattering away. The bride-to-be puts on facades of happiness to mask away from the horror and terror. She wipes away her frowns to erase days of torture, puts on the bright red saree and hides the broken pieces of herself, and strokes the raven black kajal as tears flow free like an overflowing sea. The groom has arrived. She is happy, or so everyone thinks. 

Perhaps the trouble with her groom will always be that he is a man. Amma told her it was her ruin, Baba didn't care. They told her love was a phase and her truths were all childhood lies. Her love wasn't real. How violent is it to love someone with every inch of your body only to realize what you started was never meant to be whole. She questions, she doubts, she fathoms. As the last autumn leaves fall from the naked trees, she leaves the girl she loves behind. A love that wasn't meant to be. A love so beautiful and soiled with shades of tragedy. 

Today, as she marries the man whose fire doesn't match her pyre, she thinks about her first love one last time. As she walks down the aisle, with war cries and madness all around her, she looks at the moon and sheds a tear. A tear so innocent and sinless like the droplets of an ocean so big and wild yet so tired and exhausted. 

She is the shameless bride whose heart belongs to another. Why must it be so shameful to love in ways others don't?

-Arshia :)


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