Mrs. M

She was one of the youngest brides I had seen.

She had been as terrified of marriage as I am. But one year of steady courtship had transformed her. The woman in that wedding lehenga had come a long way, from being rebellious to playing the obedient daughter.

An exchange of photographs and a casual meeting was all it took to seal the deal. And she didn’t resist. For all that talk of rebellion, she had gotten quite used to the idea of an arranged marriage and, at some level, even welcomed it. It was simpler, she said. She sounded happy. Happier than she had in years.

Was that enough?


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