The room’s door swings open, revealing a woman in her fifties gracefully entering. She’s adorned in a majestic blue Kanjivaram saree, adorned with crimson bangles that jingle melodiously. A golden pendant dangle from her neck, and a bindi of sunset hues crowns her forehead, mirroring the saree’s vibrant border.
Inside the room, a young girl turns her gaze toward the entrance. The woman stands there, her left hand gracefully resting upon her stomach while her right hand clutches a purse with poise.
The girl herself is a vision, wearing a delicate gown that complements her soft curls, accentuated by sparkling button-like accessories. Her eyelashes curl in an artful display, accompanied by a striking blue eyeshadow that harmonizes with her attire. Apart from her silver earrings adorned with deep purple gemstones, she wears no other jewelry.
As the girl locks eyes with the woman, her own widen, and she instinctively leans on a nearby chair for support. The woman grins warmly, but the girl remains in stunned silence, still grappling with the shock.
The mother stands her ground, and the daughter remains in a state of disbelief. She stifles a gasp with her hand, her breaths growing heavier.
“I can’t faint here,” she reassures herself, determined to regain composure. Yet, each time her gaze returns to the woman, her breath quickens, oscillating between rapid and measured.
After a struggle, she manages to pull herself onto the chair, hands covering her face as she attempts to regain her equilibrium through slow, deliberate breaths.
When she eventually raises her gaze, she is unaware that the woman still stands there, a smile gracing her face.
“Why aren’t you here?” the girl asks, her voice tinged with longing.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be,” the woman replies, her apology genuine.
“You were meant to be here on such a momentous day.”
“I know, and I deeply regret it.”
The girl remains silent, her eyes cast downward.
“How are you holding up?” the woman inquires.
The girl looks up but remains mute.
“How are you, my dear daughter?” the woman persists.
The girl meets her mother’s gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. She closes them momentarily, trying to contain her emotions.
The woman stands there, her smile unwavering, near the entrance.
When the girl reopens her eyes, she discovers the woman still by the door, the background music softly playing.
“Look at this dress, listen to this music, take in this décor,” she says, her voice intertwined with the melody. “I must orchestrate all of this without you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you during shopping, choosing the dress, selecting the jewelry, and picking gifts for him and his family. It’s been agonizing not having you by my side, questioning every decision, wondering if they’d approve. You raised me to be independent, but you never prepared me for this.”
The woman gazes at her daughter with a smile, fighting back her own tears as she maintains slow, steady breaths.
“And now, preparing for today, stepping onto that stage, standing before everyone, smiling for photographs, greeting guests, exchanging rings, ensuring bhai and papa look their best, ensuring he looks perfect, and making sure no one creates a scene, tending to every guest’s needs.”
“It’s all been so challenging, especially without you here.”
“I understand the depths of your struggle and the immense responsibility you’ve shouldered, looking out for everyone’s well-being.”
“And you’ve handled it with such grace. Everything is impeccable, well thought out. People are sharing smiles, relishing the food and capturing memories in photographs. And you think you weren’t prepared for this?”
The woman smiles tenderly at her daughter, who now radiates a sense of calm. The woman steps closer, her hands finding their place on her daughter’s arms, enfolding her in a warm embrace.
“Ki khobor, beta?” The father’s voice and a gentle knock on the door bring her back to the room.
She returns to her chair, taking a seat.
“Please come in.”
PS: Last week I got engaged to this beautiful girl who is super caring and warm, and highly creative in her ways of love, apart from being extremely talented. The scene I have imagined above is between her and her mother who is no more with us. I never got a chance to meet this woman, but I have heard so many stories about her and seen so many of her photos that I have started feeling a connection with her. We held the event for our engagement without her and she was missed the most. My fiancée obviously missed her a lot during preparations for the event and the small-small milestones that we have been able to achieve in this relationship. We will always miss her, and her absence from our lives will remain unfathomable.
PPS: thanks for reading. Please share this with anyone who might need to read this today.