Seven and a half days. That's the number of days we had been married for and the number of words that were exchanged between us was even less than that. Growing up in a typical Indian household , I believe I had been handed over a pretty clear picture of how an arranged marriage works . My parents , also known as Akshay and Seema Singhania had a very successful arranged marriage and I being their only son had imbibed some of their wisdom, atleast that is what I hoped . But Vaani and my marriage wasn't a typical one . Before asking for my consent , my parents had been sensible enough to tell me all that they knew ; so to say I was well aware of what I was stepping into. I knew it was her second marriage and I knew she was a young widow. I had been told her husband passed away in a road accident one year into the marriage and its been sixteen months to that unfortunate day. I clearly remember the first and only question I had asked them was why was she getting into this again and is it not too soon ? I didn't care about what the societal norms said , I just feared this wasn't enough time for a person to move on from something like that and now I am scared I might have been right. The answer that I was provided with was that Vaani's mom was sick ; she had been diagnosed with stage two stomach cancer and her only wish was to see her younger daughter married again before she went in for a high risk surgery. How do I fit into the picture you ask ............I was the son of her best friend ; my mom had known Rekha aunty since they were practically kids. Since her health was deteriorating my parents had reluctantly agreed to a quick marriage on papers , keeping aside their dreams for the well being of their dear ailing friend.

................................................................................................................................

One more day passed in utmost silence. We were practically two strangers who were asked to share a room. One would expect the initial few days to be awkward in a marriage like ours , but here there was nothing ....nothing at all. At times it was like she ceased to exist at all. I knew it would take efforts to make this marriage work but how to make those efforts, I was yet to figure that out.

We shared the same bed , for reasons that had more to do with the absence of a couch in the bedroom than the absence of communication between the two of us. We slept on the two extremes of the large bed , with a very distinct border of carefully placed cushions in between us. Though only inches apart on the bed , our souls felt miles apart.

We had slept the exact same way since the day she entered into my life and hence the bedroom ; she on the left and I on the right. I would leave the bed lamp on ; the apprehension on her face being the sole reason. By the time I woke up in the morning she would have left the room . When I would return from my bath , I would find an ironed shirt and its matching counterparts set carefully on the bed and a hot cup of tea on the reading table but she was nowhere to be found. I could hear my mother talking to her in the kitchen when I left for work. That's the most I have heard her talking for the entire duration of our marriage. Dinner was almost the same except that the presence of my parents on the dinner table made things a tad bit chirpier. Then we went back to our rooms and the vicious cycle continued.

This continued for quite a few days until I woke up in the middle of the night one day. I don't know what made me wake up that particular night , two days ago ; maybe it was the wind or maybe it was just fate. My eyes opened to an empty bed besides me; she was nowhere in sight. At first I thought she had probably gone to the washroom or to the kitchen to get water , but then I heard it. It was very faint , almost non discernible. I tiptoed to the open balcony and there I saw her. She was just sitting there on a bean bag, curled up, holding her knees close to her chest ,looking at the moon with tears shining in her eyes. Once the briny liquid had flooded those pretty blue eyes , they rushed past the bridges and ran down her cheeks to drop below and then some more filled those eyes again. She wasn't sobbing or moaning , just the occasional sniffs that were way too quiet for a sleeping person to hear. Not once did she wipe those tears , as if they  were a part of her being. Her tear filled eyes were fixated on the moon like she was looking for answers from him. Such was the melancholy surrounding her that I could feel it creeping into my soul . There were no words , no complains , no anger ; just endless sadness in those eyes . Her aching heart was far from healed . Her scars which were invisible during the day looked fresh and bleeding in the moonlight ; the scars on her heart which she didn't want anyone to see .

The moon had shone its light to see the love she harbored for her soulmate in her heart and the loss she had to bear alone. Expectations and manipulations had shoved her into a marriage she wasn't ready to uphold. But her heart wasn't permitting her to move on. The tears kept filling her eyes giving it no rest. Her loss , her pain was so palpable ; that face giving it all away. I could hear the repressed screams she wanted to let out , with more than just her eyes. In that moment I wished I could comfort her or share her pain or at least hold her or just sit besides her .......just to be there for her. But I didn't, I just stood there in silence, watching. I watched for a long time and yet she was so immersed in her sorrow that she didn't seem to sense me standing so close. Finally I decided to give her the solitude she was seeking. Letting her chat with her moon, I quietly walked back to the bed and pretended to be asleep.

It was around 3 am that I saw her come back. Even in the darkness I could see her tired eyes and feel the emptiness in them ; at least I knew the reason this time.....she had been forced into this marriage. Her emptiness was a poignant memoir of their life together that was lost.

I couldn't fall back to sleep even after she did. My head and my heart were filled with emotions that I couldn't describe and questions that I had no answers to. I felt connected to her pain even though I was blessed to have never suffered a loss like hers. My head was screaming that I should release her of the shackles of this burdened marriage , while my heart argued it was way to soon to conclude that. A part of me wanted to help her heal from the loss so shattering ; the other part was scared that I might be a reason of her pain. Then there was the question of what she wanted . I don't know if her opinion was asked when this union was decided upon; probably she did it all for her mother, locking her pain away within the depths of her heart . But I couldn't make a decision without asking her ; it wouldn't be fair to her.

Confusion engulfed me like never before; I didn't know what was the right thing to do . But I knew one thing , I had to make efforts; efforts to reach out to her hidden self. I had to make her unlock the sadness that was hollowing her away and to help her in letting it go. I may not ever get the same place in her heart , but I could try to carve my own space as a friend. Exactly , a friend , that's exactly what she needed and that's what I would try to be. If nothing else , I hoped this marriage would help her in the process of healing . I didn't know what was expected of me in our marriage but I understood one thing that is to walk alongside your partner in sickness and in health , and I intended to do just that; to hold her hand through all the turmoil that life had thrown her way , only if she would let me.

Tomorrow it would be a new morning , a new start to our relationship. ; a new beginning.

***************************