Soon the day came when Maya's hands and feet were stained red, when all those weeks of avoiding the sun and bathing in a mixture of milk, honey and turmeric left her feeling delicately pretty. That day she was decked in a yellow silk sari, her neck layered with gold necklaces, her eyes outlined with kajal, the weight of green bangles sandwiched between thick gold kangans hanging heavy on her slim wrists. A gold chain went around her waist too, cinching the entire look neatly like a carefully packed gift.

Or that was what her Amma had said anyway.

Villagers-both above and below her family's stature-had begun camping in her house almost two weeks prior to her wedding day, just from the day after her brother had given her his locket.

She had barely seen Bhaiya after that day, only caught glimpses of him rushing about, giant frame navigating his way across the singing ladies as he ran errands-like any good brother of the bride.

Her house was decked with jasmine and marigold, rice rangolis and leaf-streamers hanging from doorways. It smelled like that too.

Maya had not, in her entire life, seen her house so filled to the brim with people, with family she didn't even know existed, living in villages as far away as the outskirts of Delhi. Of noise and chatter and singing and dancing and giggles and catching up. Celebrating her wedding without including her in anything. She had strict instructions to remain in her room.

And so, on the most important day of her life, Maya was left completely alone. Looking the prettiest she had ever looked, with no one to talk to.

On normal days, she liked to take her time praying, enunciating each mantra and bhajan and aarti loudly. On her last hours as a young maiden, her shivers defined her prayers. Even simple verses of the Hanuman Chalisa meshed to become undecipherable. But she continued chanting, trying to ease her nerves.

An uneasiness had settled deep in the depths of her stomach the minute Amma had finished dressing her. It grew and gnawed like a rising crescendo with the drums of the baraat getting closer. She was hungry from fasting, her throat was parched, her rose stained lips had dried so much they were sticking to each other.

Soon the call came. In entered her mother, along with the only two unmarried cousins she had left.

It was time.

"Amma," Maya breathed. Her chest was tightening. The heavy dread in her gut was manifesting as violent hiccups. Tears had welled up in her eyes. "I don't want to go, please, Amma..."

Her voice was weak. Her mother's eyes became moist as well, as she mistook Maya's terror for the usual bridal angst. She only smiled, kissing her forehead just below her maantika, and pulled her pallu till it veiled Maya's face completely, blocking her vision to only her own feet and adding to her claustrophobia.

The veil cut her off from the world. Deafened her. Blinded her. Two pairs of hands grabbed each shoulder. Maya heard the light taps of her mother's footsteps, enhanced by the payals she was wearing. The older woman lead way, a cue for the two bridesmaids to drag Maya to the mandap.

The minute she stepped out of her isolated room, Maya felt hot. There were too many people cluttered around the verandah. Yet all she could see were feet. Small, cracked, painted red and stacked with toe-rings and anklets, or men's feet in their complete ugly, hairy glory and boasting, more often than not, twisted, grimy nails.

Her cousins led her until Maya felt cool, fresh evening air on her face-hinting at the much-awaited arrival of winters. She thought of Vayu, her brother's mace, and how, just over a month ago, its swings had made similar cool air hit her face.

The mandap was made on a raised platform in front of her house, in the space where, nine years ago, Maya had lifted and rotated a mace to impress her brother, to defeat her very soon to be husband. She had been four then, Ashok 12. Now she was 13, and the boy she had outshone at every playfight was 20. The boy she had seen chase around her brother. The boy waiting for her near the sacred fire of the marital mandap.

Maya tried lifting her head to locate her brother, but her line of sight remained blocked, and her cousin muttered a hushed reminder to keep her head down.

"You cannot be an immodest bride in front of Bade Babu!"

His name only brought back the snakes in her stomach. She lifted a shaky right leg to step onto the mandap, her vision getting blurrier and head feeling dizzier as the heat of the hawan flames crackled directly in front of her. The heat triggering a memory of the story of Hanuman ji almost swallowing the sun, of how her brother had described Surya dev's horror as he tried to stop the young God from his childish quests.

As she sat down, her thighs brushed against Ashok's, which felt skinny yet strong. It helped her calm down a little, though the tears didn't stop. It was just Ashok, Maya reminded herself. She knew her husband, could almost call him a friend. That was a blessing not every girl was blessed it. He was also young. It could've been worse; she could've been left to marry a man as old as forty or fifty.

Like Savitri mausi and Bade Babu.

Amma adjusted her silks, whispering to Maya to sit cross legged and comfortably, then backed away.

Maya was obedient. She did what the calm pundit asked her to do. She cried harder when her father rested her hand on Ashok's big ones, knowing there was no going back now. She continued chanting her own prayers as the pundit read the ones meant to unify them. She did not look up even once as Ashok moved her veil and lifted a sindoor filled ring to move across her hair parting five times-letting a generous amount fall to the bridge of her nose, making gasps and gushes of joy erupt from the people gathered around to watch. She held Ashok's elbow as he offered ghee to the Agni. She clasped his sweaty hand as they made seven rounds of the fire.

It felt like she had held one long breath this whole while, which only escaped her once the pundit announced them husband and wife.

"The brother of the bride, please step forward."

It was time for nearly the final step. Manoj Bhaiya had to drop a fistful of rice to her cupped palms, rice she would offer to Agni and conclude the ceremony.

Maya felt the sting of tears at the cusp of this final goodbye as she waited for her brother to emerge from the chaos of sleepy guests.

Except he never did.

~.~

a/n

I finished this chapter at 1.30 am, knowing that tomorrow I've to be in office, for an internship I'm unable to give my best to, by 9.30 sharp tomorrow. But there is something addictive about pre-scheduling this. This is the most planning I've done in 2023.