"It will be sad to see you go," crying aunts and uncles sob in the farewell ceremony.

Ira's mother is beside herself with tears, and even her father, a usually contained man, has shed a few drops of sadness.

This is the only chance that Ira can cry in public- the masses of her misery portrayed to society through the trivial streams running down her cheeks.

"I don't want to go," she breathes into her mother's chest, holding onto her for dear life.

"I'm afraid you have to." the mother speaks back in anguish.

And so, off she goes. 

With a brushing of hands with Deepak, she's off. 

With an unknown man stiffly gripping her hand and the sound of oak doors slamming resonating behind her.