Indian weddings — no matter how chaotic, noisy, and exhausting — always carry a sense of romance. Even those who are single can’t help but get swept away when the bride and groom exchange garlands, when the mangalsutra is tied, or when the sindoor is placed tenderly on the bride’s forehead.
There’s a small hidden belief too — the bride closes her eyes, secretly wishing for the sindoor to fall a little bit on her nose. Because someone once said, “If it does, it means he loves you a lot.” Funny, isn’t it, how rituals carry such hidden meanings? But what if they also plant a false sense of forever in your heart?
It rained on my wedding day. I even had a silly fight with my bridesmaid about my entry. But when it was time to sit around the holy fire, vowing ourselves to each other, I felt like the most accomplished woman in the world. I was happy. I was in love.
The first day in his house, in his room, I stood before the mirror draped in a saree I barely knew how to wear. My hands were full of mehndi, my heart full of pride. I reached out to him with a box of sindoor, and he applied it on my forehead again. I wanted this to become our ritual.
No matter the hurry, no matter the chaos of the world, I wanted us to pause — for those few seconds each day — and remind each other what this relationship meant. A promise that in the middle of all the madness, we would still slow down, look at each other, and choose each other.
Sounds like a dream from a Bollywood movie, doesn’t it?
Only… dreams don’t always match the endings we imagine.
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