A Part Of Me

Suman Tiwari, the daughter of Vijay and Anjali Tiwari is getting married to a Punjabi boy Shravan Malhotra, the son of Kavitha and Devraj Malhotra. This is something that all Indian parents feel when their daughter gets married.

She was dressed in her bridal finery as she laughed with her friends without a care for the world. Sometimes they teased her, and she would blush and sometimes they talked about her looks and how she is beautiful, and her face shone brightly. Anjali Tiwari watched all her reactions from the door of Suman’s room as she clutched onto the freshly painted rosewood frame of the door. She was decked up in a blood-red lehenga, the colour of love. She remembered when her bridal wear was delivered at the doorstep and Anjali had run her hands on the fine silk embellished with zardosi work in gold threads and she could understand that Shravan’s parents must have picked it up with a lot of love for her daughter who will soon become theirs. A part of her whose smile lightened up her house every day will do the favours on the Malhotra household A loud sigh escaped her mouth and Suman turned to look at the sombre face of her mother. Seeing Suman looking at her she walked in with a forced smile on her face as she lifted a finger to take a pinch of her kajal and smear it behind Suman’s face. Her daughter was looking ethereal today whether it was love or the beautiful lehenga that her in-laws had sent, she did not know but she knew that the guests at the wedding will not be able to take their eyes off her. She was proud that beautiful Suman was a part of her. She adjusted the choker on her neck and checked if the jhumkas were screwed properly before placing a small kiss on her forehead taking care not to disturb the glistening maang tika.

In a few hours, the marriage ceremonies started with the jaymala followed by the holy fire. Anjali noticed that Shravan’s eyes had not left Suman’s face for even a second and she could see the endless love that he had for her. She could never find someone better than Shravan for her little daughter even if she searched with the magic lamp. Although Shravan’s mother had her reservations initially when she figured out that Shravan had fallen for a non-Punjabi girl and she would be her bahu but all that had subsided, and Anjali noticed pure joy on her face. Suman and Shravan had started doing the pheras and with each phera Anjali felt a hollowness settle in her heart as if each phera was taking away her daughter further from her. Her husband Col Vijay Tiwari had always put the nation ahead of him and Anjali had put the family ahead of her. She had been through a lot of trials and tribulations being the wife of a fearless Armed forces personnel, but she had faced all of them bravely. Suman held a special place in her life, right from nurturing her in her womb to making the young confident woman that she is today she had always played a larger role not only being the mother but filling up for her father whenever he would not be around. She will always remain a part of her whether she becomes Captain in the Indian Army or she becomes the bride of the Malhotras. It was now time for her bidaai and Anjali walked along with her daughter as small tears made way from Suman’s beautiful kohl-lined doe shaped eyes as she clung to her father and mother. Both patted her back assuring that they were always there for her in thick or thin. Suman finally walked ahead to take a fistful of rice lifted them over her head and threw them over her head. Anjali could no longer see her face but the diamond crusted kangans and the red bangles and the churas as she raised her hands once again, but she knew she was crying and her feet were heavy. As Suman took a few steps further, her new mother-in-law side hugged her and finally, Shravan held her close to himself and brushed away her tears as she sat in the beautifully decorated car.

Everybody assured Anjali that her daughter had chosen her partner herself unlike arranged marriages in the olden days, she was having a love marriage so no need to worry about it. Her daughter would stay a few steps away from her and she will be able to see her whenever she wants. Shravan and her in-laws are very cool so they will not expect her to be a typical bahu. Anjali had agreed to all of them but as a mother, she would always worry if she has got a soft pillow as she cannot sleep on a hard one, has she got the pickle and papad at dinner without which she could not eat dinner, has the breakfast been served on time as Suman could not bear to be hungry in the mornings. People would say they were silly things to worry about and Suman has been a strong woman but for the mother, in Anjali, she would always be her little daughter whom she had held in her arms clad in a soft blue wrapped towel in the maternity ward, bed no 47 of the Army hospital. Suman had gone and Anjali walked slowly with a heavy heart to her room as the void in her room made her feel claustrophobic. She picked up a photo engraved in an ornately carved silver frame. This was her favourite when Suman had won the NCC award and adorned the cap on her mother’s head saying that she was a ship and her mother was the captain of her ship. That’s how Vijay Tiwari found her when he walked into the room in search of Anjali. As he held Anjali by her shoulders, she turned and for the first time in ages broke down into sobs hugging her husband by the waist. Her husband let her cry her heart out as he also realized that today she had given a part of herself away so she could share her light and make the new household as bright as herself.