If destiny gives you a lemon, you should be skilled enough to make virgin mojito out of it.

But, what shall I make out of my dark skin and plump body which was predestined in my life?

Today was my engagement ceremony. I was draped in a traditional purple silk saree with mustard-coloured borders and minimal makeup and some pieces of jewellery, on the other hand, Lakshay Ji was looking as handsome as some model in his Cream coloured Kurta Pajama with a mustard-coloured waistcoat over it, harmonising with my apparel.

Lakshay Ji was beside me on the decorated and elevated stage and we were busy posing for the camera as well as those relatives who moved heaven & earth to humiliate me and my parents for my body and looks, with the fakest smile I could muster up.

I was a bit joyous at the beginning but my spoilsport relatives' comments made sure to kill that.

I heard many of them mumbling amongst themselves, "Kali Bhains ko ye Handsome hunk kaise mil gaya?".

("How did the black buffalo get this handsome hunk?")

I heard every dark comment they passed on me but the fake smile never left my lips.

These people wouldn't decide when shall I laugh and when shall I cry. It was my day and I was meant to be celebrating. I was meant to be beaming in joy.

The above words would sound fabulous inside a novel and readers would definitely commend the protagonist who's not affected by such things.

But it was my reality and reality hurts like a bitch's bite.

Even if I would ignore all their comments, I was still not happy within.

I was finally getting married yet I wasn't thrilled a bit.

From within, I was in a paralysed state. I was concerned about my parents. About the house that they were thinking of selling: for their daughter's paradise.

I would've already called off this marriage there and then, but my mother pulled a very common stunt that is quite popular, especially in Indian households.

"Tujhe meri kasam, Shambhavi. Agar tune rishta todne ki baat apne mann mein bhi laayi to main zeher kha kar mar jayungi".

(I swear to you, Shambhavi. If you even bring the thought of breaking the marriage alliance in your mind, I will die by consuming poison.")

These were her precise words when I had tried to make my parents understand about the 'Dowry Prohibition Act' of 1961 when we were having dinner the same night as that of the meeting day.

I had kept mum since then.

I didn't say anything to them.

I didn't say anything to my parents when they arranged everything for the engagement ceremony. I just kept mum and mutely watched them purchasing even the shallowest of things.

From clothes of the groom to his father's vest and briefs; from catering services to the expenses of the Pandit.

From the Tier-1 AC train tickets for their relatives to even the cab charges.

Everything was financially handled by my parents, even the tiniest of the needle with which the groom's Bua's torn edge of the sari was stitched to put a stop to any wardrobe malfunction that might have happened with her, but later even that got wasted as a brand new sari was given to her after she threw some tantrums.

(Pandit- Priest; Bua- Father's sister)

After all, she was the groom's Bua!

Itna to haq banta hai!

(This much is their birthright, isn't it!)

The groom's family has a business empire of coaching classes, more affluent and flush than us. Whereas my father is a retired Bank clerk, yet he's managing all the expenses for this marriage.

I could only chortle at this family and their mentality. I feared how greedy they were in actuality. But then again, this dowry was nothing compared to other dowry amounts in the city of Kanpur.

Even for a government peon, the dowry was as high as thirty lakh.

Why?

Because 'Ladka Sarkari naukari karta hai. Zindagi bhar ki safe naukri hai.'

(The groom does a government job. It's a secure lifetime job.)

My groom was at least a director of a big coaching class, so I think he's definitely giving us a lot of relief for negotiating it to only 50 lakh plus a four-wheeler; I mentally rolled my eyes inside my head and stood up for the umpteenth time for taking the blessings of some relative from his side.

It was our engagement day. We were bound to exchange rings with each other. But, my parents purchased rings for both of us, as the groom's side had a ritual that basically consolidated to the fact that: Sara kharcha ladki walon ke matthe maaro, hum bas shikayat karenge.

(Throw all the expenses on the girl's family, we will just complain about one thing or another.)

I didn't expect that even Lakshay Ji would be supporting his family for the dowry thing. Because when I had a talk with him regarding this over our phone call, he had openly said and I quote, "From my childhood, my parents put me in the best and most expensive school. I graduated from the most reputable college and today, I am earning lakhs. What wrong are my parents doing? If they have spent so much money on me and my education, why can't they expect a small sum of money from your family?".

His statement had broken my heart into a million pieces. But before that, his words made me laugh like a madwoman.

I made sure to tee-hee but only after muting his call.

'Hum to jaise gobar khakar bade hue hain na. Humpe to hamare Maa Baap ne aaj tak 1 rupaiya bhi nahi kharch kiya hai, patton ke kapde pehen kar zindagi kaat te hain hum to'.

(We have grown up eating cow dung, haven't we. Our parents have not spent even 1 rupee on us till today, we spend our life wearing clothes made of leaves.)

How hypocritical society is.

The same boy was saying that he is earning in lakhs and still has such hoggishness for money.

These memories were nothing but the testimony of the murky future I would have in their house. I could sense that. But again, I kept mum, only for my parents.

Somehow, I managed to remain sober throughout the ceremony with the constant fake smile adorning my lips.

Bhaiya too was here. Because of all the expenses, even he was constrained to take personal loans for managing all the lavish ceremonies, expensive apparel, and grand celebrations that the groom's mother was demanding from us since day one.

As it was her only son's marriage.

And she didn't want to leave any stone unturned to make it extravagant and first-class for the coming centuries to remember.

But yes, she wanted all of this to happen from our funds as it was their century-old custom that she feared would lead to someone's death if the groom's side would even invest a penny in this marriage.

I doubt why I haven't heard of this weird custom ever in my lifetime.

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Today, Bhaiya, me, and Lakshay Ji were visiting the car showroom to select our car.

Papa had to sell the land that he had purchased long ago in our native village to procure the payment of the lavish car that my would-be groom had demanded from him.

And my father couldn't say no to his beloved Damad.

(Son-in-law)

We had estimated that 15 lakh would be enough for purchasing a spacious five-seater car with good mileage and attractive colour.

But boy I was so wrong!

I didn't know that Lakshay Ji had such an exorbitant taste that would deaccelerate us to being thirty-three lakh and fifty thousand poorer.

He wanted nothing less than a BMW.

Day-by-day, my heart started losing the admiration that I had for him since day one.

He was marrying my father's helplessness and his savings, not his daughter.

I clenched my jaws and kept mum, I couldn't dare to go against my mother's words.

A month later would be our marriage. Finally, a burden would be put off my parents' slouching and old shoulders.

I sighed and pondered.

'People are doing the rightful thing by killing their daughter in the womb only. Because this world would either kill her by atrocities like rape, molestation, domestic violence or her parents with the huge freight of the skyrocketing rates of dowry'.

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What do you think of Lakshay & his family? 

The next part would be Shambhavi's marriage day! Finally!

Are you excited?