Marriage is the most consecrated bond between two personages; it not only unites two souls but two families too and a new relationship leads to many other relations. As if marriage is some one-to-many mathematical function which students study in their higher secondary education.

I was in one such conjugality ceremony with my family which consisted of me, my parents and my elder brother who was currently not here but somewhere else.

Diverse people were giving me unwanted stares, boys were gawking at my covered 'Honour' as people call a girl's bosom as some 'Izzat' or something in the local language of many parts of India and one such part was Kanpur where I lived with my nuclear-sized family. I was not even an iota interested in such gatherings, in fact, for any public gathering but it was my mother always who used to transport me along to all these ceremonies as I was at a marriageable age according to the Indian Association of the Marriage Society.

I was twenty-nine and a nine-months-year-old girl who was still not married and it was such a dishonouring matter for the whole Indian society as well as my parents as a traditional girl of a small town like Kanpur who's not married after '25' is a girl who's either having some Rahu-Ketu, Shani Dosha in her horoscope or is incompatible to such holy & divine relation that's why no one chose her and she was still one among the Rejected Petals.

"This is your daughter, Mrs Mishra?" a lady I had never seen in my entire life came near our table and sat on the chair around us even without any conventionality of asking us and solicited the question as if she had seen a witch but not Mrs Mishra's daughter, I shook my head and slumped my shoulders more onto the white cloth draped chair.

Wiping the gravy Manchurian out her lips, my mother sipped some water and greeted the very friendly lady with a Namaste and answered, "Yes, she's my daughter only. Shambhavi, child, say Namaste to aunty."

At my mother's furious movements of orbs which reminisced me about all my Sanskars and traditions along with a slight nudge on my elbow, I did whatever my mother wanted me to do with that lady. I did Namaste but no elders of Kanpur are satisfied until the younger ones touch their feet even if they're no less than some aliens to us.

I did the traditional Pranaam to that unknown lady, touching her feet and noticed how her toe rings were choking in her thick toes as if they too were grieving just like the blubber on my whole body that struggles every day against the taunts of my mother along with the pestering of the whole world where my small world dwells.

That alien aunt held my hand and made me perch beside her and started scrutinising my face as if I was some burglar and she was some CID officer and then she gave the statements that I have heard for at least millions of times, "Your daughter is very beautiful, just a little chubby and a bit darker than the Indian standards for a prospective bride. What's her age? Isn't she married?"

I kept mum and gazed at my mother who had an appalled look on her face. Ever since we came to this wedding ceremony, at least five people came and asked this from either my mother or my father and every time I had to suffer after seeing their depressing and disheartened visage that was all because of me.

My mother gave the unvarying answer which she gives to hundreds of people every day and I saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes with a hint of melancholy in them and I felt heavier than before.

"Aren't you searching for some prospective grooms for her, then? Chalo, if you are not searching then I think I have someone in my contacts who too is in the search of a brilliant bride. Would you want to proceed with this? Shall I ask them?"

Half of the Janta (Public) in an Indian wedding comes for food and another half comes for establishing themselves as some professional matchmakers, that's why my mother used to drag me to every wedding ceremony after I turned twenty-five. I lamented and left a long breath.

My revelled mother gave our phone number and address in excitement to the lady and fed a Gulab Jamun (Indian sweet) which was kept untouched on our table.

My father too smiled at the lady in gratitude and finally, the assemblage for the thirtieth alliance with a groom was set for me.

I sighed again and glanced at my plate and my eating area which mirrored some salads and Virgin Mojito on the table.

My thirtieth endeavour for marriage! Wasn't it exceptional with my approaching thirtieth birthday?

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So, how was this one? Could you connect some dots?