The New Bride - Part 1

My first steps in his house.

"This is going to be my home. Our home." I thought to myself.

A new bride. Ah! What a wonderful feeling that was! I was so tired, I could just drop right there and go to sleep but yes I was feeling exuberant too. If left alone, I'd be dancing and I would need no music at all. The music in my heart would be enough. Finally! I was where I had wanted to be for a long time now.

I shuddered slightly as I recalled the worst phase of my life. It started about a couple of years ago when my parents decided that I was grown-up enough for them to start looking for a suitable groom for me. Life as I had known it till then took a drastic turn. Being an average looker and also not belonging to the bright as a star category, my chances were not so bright. But I did not know that. I thought that after my degree, my parents would find someone for me. Someone simple but smart enough to realize that what mattered was the person inside. He'd see me for what I was and marry me and together we'd make each other the happiest people on the earth.

Little did I realize what hurdles one has to get over for what I thought was a simple task at that time. What humiliations I would have to go through! How my hopes would soar one day only to be quashed mercilessly the next d. She is not a match for him, wish she had a master's, her nose is not straight enough, we need a working woman, she is not tall/fair enough - the reasons were many but the result was always the same. Unceremonious rejection. The first time it happened, the ground under my feet shook. I could not believe it. Everyone had seemed so nice. The groom himself, a silent and simple soul. Could not believe when I caught bits and pieces of conversations flying around that they had thought I was not beautiful enough! Well I realized I was not the prettiest woman in the world, but hey I did not know I was so ugly that I could be rejected on the basis of my looks. Was that all that mattered? How I looked? That day my confidence suffered a blow I doubted I could ever recover from. How could looks matter so much I had foolishly thought at that time! That was how naive I was.

Those 2 years did manage to do one good thing though. They managed to cure my naiveté and I managed to see some things done, I did not realize human beings were capable of doing. Some of these folks would be so blatantly humiliating while others would go about the rejection in a subtler manner. There is one that I distinctly remember. They did not want any dowry but they wanted a grand wedding. A wedding so grand that whatever dowry anyone had solicited till that time seemed peanuts in comparison. They had so impressively announced that they were so noble that they did not consider burdening the girls' family with dowry. I remember thinking this was it when they had said that they were happy with everything. But before we could fully celebrate the end of the torture of the past year, they dropped the bombshell. A reception to be paid for by us in a 5-star hotel. I remember my father being so shocked that he could not even say a word as he put down the receiver. The look on his face told me all. That it was once again back to the drawing board. Back to the torture.

And yes torture it was. The most Machiavellian kind. Almost everyone in our extended family were briefed with the fact that if at any time they came across a bachelor then they were supposed to refer me to them. Every day everyone in our house would be waiting for the phone to ring expectantly. Every time the phone rang, my mother would almost lunge for it. Most of the times it would be a false alarm. I would watch as her expectant expression morphed into disappointment. Some times I would see her talking animatedly, which would suggest to me that I was going to be put through another test. A test I had no control over but was expected to take and come out with flying colors. Soon my enthusiasm died. So did my expectations. I was fat. I was ugly. I was short. I was not smart. I was not intelligent. I was not dynamic. How could I expect any man to marry me? Even if the man lacked the same things I did. It did not matter. Because he was a man. Oh! How I longed to have been one myself. To have been spared this agony and more importantly spared the agony my parents were going thru.

But no it did not stop. I once grandly declared that I did not want to get married. That I was happy being the way I was. The look of hurt that my mother gave me stopped me in my tracks. She was crying. A strong woman and here she was shedding tears and I was the reason for her misfortune. I vowed that day not to make things worse for my parents than they already were. I was not going to sit with a morose expression whenever another possible match was announced. I was not going to crib and cry about the process. I was just going to remain silent and let things take their course. I did. I went through many acts without a single complaint. Tried to follow every possible advice that was thrown my way by the so-called well-wishers. I was going to try my hardest to put my parents out of their sorrow. But even then nothing worked out. With every rejection I felt like a part of me was dying. I did not know how long I could survive it. My parents aged 10 years in those 2 years. Their worries taking on gigantic proportions as days melted into years. I had almost given up hope and was mechanically going through the motions once again when this match was announced.

"The boy is perfect." Which one had not been?
"The only son from a respectable family." Know all about these respectable families.
"He is based in the US." Aha! On the look out for a beautiful wife to adorn his shelf surely.
"Very good looking." Weren't all of them labeled that no matter what?
"The family just wants a nice and decent girl." What constituted a nice and decent girl?

Yes, the cynic in me was flourishing as I was once again paraded before umpteen people umpteen times.

"They like you and want the wedding as soon as possible!" my mother said with tears streaming down her face. This time they were borne out of happiness. I cried with her.


Oh! There were a lot more tears that were shed in the preceding days. My eyes still seemed to well up with emotion. The last glimpse of my mother before I left the only home I had ever known till that point in my life is - standing there, waving at me, tears flowing and an expression of relief on her face. I did not grudge her the relief, not in the least since I was feeling the same. Finally, I was where each one of us had been waiting for for such a long time – in my husband’s house. I looked around with disbelief. The modest room decked in its own wedding finery. I closed my eyes and let the overwhelming feeling drown me – the feeling that this was it. I could sit back and relax. The battle had been won. I was home. Naïve old me did not realize that the battle had just then began.

“Hullo Seema….I am Raj” he said smiling at me extending his hand and my heart was racing like never before. A part of me had already been in love with him for rescuing me from the wretched scenario my life had fallen into.

I took his hand and he shook hands warmly pulling me towards him. Next morning not just a part of me but the whole me was in love with this man. He seemed to reciprocate my feelings and soon we were an inseparable couple. I would love it whenever somebody would tease the both of us about the same. The term I used to describe myself was you lucky thing you! I wanted to be with him always. I could not wait to embark on our honeymoon.

The honeymoon too as was the scheme of things during this time in my life was a grand, grand success. If we were husband and wife before we became good friends during that period of discovering each other. There was so much I talked to him. My dreams. My frustrations. The agony of the past two years. The joys of teenage. He listened to everything I had to say. A comment here, a comment there exactly the kind of thing that I wanted to hear. He would tease me. He would be serious with me. He’d be nice to me and then be playfully mean to me. He’d care for me and he’d love me. He would drive me nuts and the next moment make me laugh. Could life be any more perfect? I did not think so.

After exactly 2 months and 12 days of being married we were flying out. To another home. This time just Raj and me. Once again I could not wait for this phase of my life to start. I could not think of anything more exciting than to embark on a journey to a strange land with the man I had grown to love so much in tow and make a home for him.

As soon as we landed that’s what I started to do. He had already given up his bachelor residence and moved into a cozy single bedroom apartment. Though it was very small but it was very nicely done. I was already deciding what needed to be done to make it a love nest. After a pain staking couple of months everything that I wanted to do was in place. I was proud of myself as my husband would praise me to the skies. Another point for the new bride!

Soon our lives fell into a familiar pattern. I had no complaints with my life or with my God. Life was just perfect. Just the way I wanted it to be. Everything was falling in place. Just when everybody in our families were getting on our nerves about having a baby, I discovered I was pregnant. My joy was unbounded. No longer would I need to feel bored those lonely afternoons where would look at the clock a million times and will it to move forward. For a change there would be someone who would be dependent of me instead of it being the other way round always! I was excited. Raj was excited. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for the arrival of the baby. And she did arrive. On the morning of Oct 23rd my baby was in my arms. Everything I had gone thru – the intense pain of the last couple of days, months spent taking care of myself as I got bigger and bigger, the fears, the agony of false alarms – everything seemed to melt into that moment. 2 years later I was in the same position as I found myself cooing into the ears of my newborn son. Life kept getting better and better. Going towards perfection. Through all this there was one constant thing in my life and that was Raj. I was truly blessed. A perfect marriage. 2 perfect babies. What more could I want?

After the arrival of the babies my life revolved around them. We had shifted into a bigger house and there were many things to be taken care of. I did not want my perfect life to falter even a bit. So I took to the task of keeping it perfect with a vengeance. And I did for as long as my life was under control. I did not realize that there are things beyond our control. Things that could go so wrong it would leave you wondering how they were right in the first place. One perfect day when the sun was shining its brightest, the birds were chirping their loudest, when the breeze was blowing its gentlest something hit our family. Something that turned my whole world upside down. In a second perfection vanished to be replaced by horror and tragedy. The perfect little world I had created was in shambles!

One moment. One moment that changed everything. The moment before it everything had been all right. Everything in its place and so so perfect. I could not have thought that every moment after that was going to be so drastically different. And one split second changed all that. A split second is all it takes. All it takes to wipe out a life. A split second of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. One second you are crossing the road to buy flowers for your wife and the next second you are hurled in the air by a vehicle you had not seen coming in your hurry not to miss the last express train which would have taken you home. A home where a wife waited expectantly for your arrival. No she does not want the flowers, she does not want the chocolates – she just wants to just hold you close. So close that you can feel how much she missed you during the day. But instead the phone rings. She picks up the receiver with mild irritation. He’s missed the train again and is going to be late once more she thinks. Little does she realize that he’s never going to be late again. Because he is never going to be there again!

I don’t remember how I was able to get through the days that followed. To think I had put down those couple of years spent in searching for an appropriate groom as the worst days of my life. To think that till yesterday the only thing I had to worry about was what to cook the next day. To think that I could talk to the man I loved just by dialling a few numbers or hug him close by just turning my position in the best. Everything was lost but I was still groping blindly for it. The denial phase took over. I believed it wouldn’t be long before he walked through the door. That body lying there all mangled beyond recognition could surely not be his. So what if his wallet was found in his pocket. Anybody could have stolen it. So what if the clothes he was wearing seemed like the same ones that he had been wearing when he had hurried to catch the train after I left him at the staition with a breezy peck on my lips. I could be mistaken too. The cops could be mistaken too. Then I saw it. The wedding ring on his finger. The one I had so painstakingly chose after shopping for a month. The one which fit so snugly in his fingers that it could not fall off nor be removed easily. It still shined with all its brilliance in his lifeless hands. Darkness engulfed me.

How many days passed like that I do not know. Who took care of things I do not recall. But one fine day I woke up and everything around me was silent. Where are the kids? I asked myself with a start. For the first time since tragedy stuck I had a thought that did not have to do with him. My children. My poor poor children. How could I have been so selfish in my grief that I had not take them into consideration. I got up and ran towards their bedroom. Both of them were sleeping peacefully. My! How they had grown. My daughter had a protective hand across her brother’s chest. My heart melted! It seemed so long since I had held them close. Since I had taken care of them. Too long.

I went down to the kitchen. What had they been eating? How had they been coping? Oh! My god! I might have lost the love of my life but they had lost their dad and with the state I had been in might have even thought that they had lost their mom too. Why? God! Why? Why me? Why my children? Why my Raj? Questions to which even God did not have the answers.

I set about making their breakfast. A task I had been doing for the past 10 years. Yet that day I felt like I was doing it for the first time. Nothing was making sense. I sat down, took a deep breath and started again.

“What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d make some breakfast.”
“How many times have I told you not to get up before me?”
“Why not?”
“Coz I’d like to hug and cuddle with you when I wake up.”


“Mommee…Momeeeeee!” a wail rang out. I hurried upstairs. Memories would have to wait.

Friends. Family. What an amazing network they form! If it had not been for them I wonder how I would have survived those days. Everything from informing Raj’s parents, my parents, looking after children, taking care of arrangements was done by people whom sometimes I had not even counted as amongst being our friends. I could do nothing more than gratefully accept all the help that I was getting.

“I am all right ma. I don’t know ma. Yes the kids are coping very well.” I slammed the phone down. What did she want to hear? That my husband had gone out of my life and I was doing fine! What did she expect? This was so hard. So so hard.

“How are you mummy? I hope you are taking care of yourself. Hope Daddy is fine.”
What do you say? What do you say to a mother who had lost her young son. I could now understand where my mother was coming from. What else can you say to your daughter who had recently been widowed except asking and hoping that she was doing well. I am sorry ma. I am sorry!

“You should get a grip on that short temper of yours you know!”
“What temper?”
“The one that is always lurking right here on this little nose of yours!”
“My nose is not little”
“Aww my little little woman. Come here!”

“Mom. Why are you crying? Don’t cry mom”
“Naina…I…I…”
“oh! Mom!”

My children and me sobbing our hearts out. In the middle of the room. Another day without Raj!


(...to be continued)