CHAPTER III
The mere mention of marriage by my parents sends a shiver down my spine, and those old memories, like unwelcome guests, begin to swirl in my mind once more. I've walked down the path of relationships before, having had five girlfriends in the past, but none of those connections ever truly ignited the flame of love. Looking back, I realize those were perhaps just fleeting moments, friendships disguised as something more.
There's only one person who truly captured my heart, the one I poured my soul into. But she... a sigh escapes my lips, and I realize it's best to leave that chapter closed. The pain of revisiting those memories is still so raw, so potent. I can only hope that wherever she is, she's found happiness, because I could never harbor any ill will towards her, no matter what.
It's a mystery to me why, but whenever my thoughts drift to her, a profound darkness descends upon my world. It's a sensation I can't quite shake, much like the encroaching shadows that have settled over the London skies this very moment. Perhaps it's the absence, the echoes of laughter that no longer fill my days.
Yet, even in the depths of that darkness, there's a strange beauty. For me, her memories are like the resilient lotus flowers, blossoming in the murky waters. They stand as a testament to beauty and grace, even when surrounded by the less desirable aspects of life. Though she may not be physically present, her essence, her spirit, remains intertwined with mine. It's a comforting thought, a gentle reminder that love, in its purest form, transcends time and distance. Her presence lingers, a quiet melody in the symphony of my life.
The weight of that moment crashed down on me, a tidal wave of regret washing away the false certainty I had clung to. My conviction that she didn't love me, a belief that had fueled so much anger and resentment, now revealed itself as a catastrophic error. Here, in this agonizing present, I was a prisoner of my own desires, a puppet dancing to the tune of an insatiable thirst. The sweet, metallic scent of her blood filled my senses, an intoxicating aroma that both repelled and compelled. Every fiber of my being screamed for release, for the ultimate act of violence.
Yet, she stood before me, a beacon of fragile grace in the encroaching darkness. Her eyes, once sparkling with life, were now wide with a mixture of fear and a profound sadness that mirrored my own internal turmoil. She wanted to stop me, I knew it. Her heart, a vessel of unwavering love, was fighting against the monster I had become, desperately trying to prevent me from causing her harm. But my own heart offered no such mercy, no glimmer of restraint. It was a battlefield of conflicting emotions, a chaotic symphony of rage, despair, and a twisted form of longing.
A ravenous thirst, a primal hunger for the crimson liquid that coursed through her veins, had taken root in my very breath. It was a relentless pull, a magnetic force drawing me inexorably towards her. My body grew cold, a chilling premonition of the finality to come. My breaths became shallow, ragged gasps, as the darkness threatened to consume me entirely.
Memories, once vibrant and alive, now swirled in my mind like a tempest. Each image, each fleeting moment, was a precious gem from a life I had cherished, a life that was now slipping through my fingers. I saw her smile, heard her laughter, felt the warmth of her embrace. The echoes of our shared past were a torment, a constant reminder of what I was about to lose.
I can still see it, vividly, the day of my brother's wedding. The sun shone brightly, casting a golden glow over the festivities. The air was filled with the joyous sounds of celebration, the scent of flowers, and the tantalizing aroma of food. Yet, beneath this carefully constructed facade of happiness, a different reality was unfolding. An unsettling calm had fallen over half of the United States, a deceptive peace that concealed the hidden chaos. No one knew the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface, the secrets that were about to be revealed, the price that would be paid for our choices.
"My brother's wedding was traditional, like the ones we have in Bihar (India's one of the known State)."
The air crackled with anticipation as Anand and Sakshi's families prepared for their traditional Bihari wedding. The families, rooted in the rich cultural tapestry of Bihar, had poured their hearts into every detail, ensuring the celebration was a vibrant testament to their heritage.
Anand, the groom, was the son of Satyadev and Kalyani. His elder sister, Rahi, bustled around, ensuring everything was perfect for her beloved brother. Sakshi, the radiant bride, was the daughter of Virendra and Vipasa, with her elder sister, Manisha, by her side, helping her navigate the whirlwind of pre-wedding rituals.
The festivities began with the "Haldi" ceremony. Turmeric paste, mixed with sandalwood and rose water, was applied to Anand and Sakshi's skin by their loved ones, symbolizing purification and good fortune. Laughter and playful banter filled the air as the families playfully smeared each other with the vibrant yellow paste.
Next came the "Mehndi" ceremony, where intricate henna designs adorned Sakshi's hands and feet. The women sang traditional Bihari folk songs, their voices weaving tales of love, family, and prosperity. The scent of henna mingled with the aroma of delicious Bihari cuisine, prepared with love by both families.
The wedding day dawned with a flurry of activity. Anand, dressed in a traditional silk "sherwani" and a vibrant "pagri" (turban), was led to the wedding venue by his "baraat," a lively procession of family and friends, accompanied by the rhythmic beats of the "dhol" (drum) and the melodic tunes of the "shehnai" (a traditional wind instrument).
Sakshi, adorned in a beautiful red "lehenga" and exquisite jewelry, was escorted to the "mandap" (wedding altar) by her father, Virendra. The air was thick with emotion as she met Anand, their eyes meeting across the sacred fire.
The wedding ceremony was conducted by a priest, who chanted ancient Sanskrit mantras, invoking blessings for the couple. The rituals, steeped in tradition, included the "Kanya Daan" (giving away of the bride), the "Mangal Pheras" (circling the sacred fire), and the "Saptapadi" (taking seven steps together), each step representing a vow of commitment and love.
As the ceremony concluded, Anand and Sakshi were declared husband and wife. The families showered the couple with blessings and well wishes, their hearts overflowing with joy. The celebrations continued with a grand feast, featuring a delectable spread of Bihari delicacies, from the savory "litti chokha" to the sweet "khaja."
The wedding was a beautiful tapestry of traditions, love, and laughter, a testament to the enduring spirit of Bihar. Anand and Sakshi, united in marriage, embarked on a new chapter of their lives, carrying with them the blessings of their families and the cherished memories of their traditional Bihari wedding.
After a few days of my brother's wedding, I found myself already longing for the familiar comforts of America, but my parents had other plans. They dearly wished for me to return to India with them, a prospect I wrestled with internally. The pull of my new life in America was strong, and in the end, I had to decline their offer. That's why my parents, with hearts full of love and a touch of wistfulness, decided to come to America with me.
My house wasn't sprawling, but it was a haven of warmth and security. Every corner held memories, and the walls seemed to embrace me. More than anything, it was a place where I felt protected. I had taken measures to ensure its safety, and I knew that any threat would have a hard time penetrating its defenses. It was a sanctuary, a place where I could breathe easy, knowing I was safe and sound.
The following days bled into weeks, a relentless cycle of fear, dwindling hope, and the gnawing ache of hunger. The television, our only window to the world, became a relentless harbinger of doom. The news reports, once shocking, were now a numbing litany of death and destruction. The flesh-eating plague, a horrifying fiction just weeks ago, was now a terrifying reality, its tendrils of chaos wrapping around the globe. The image of the burning United Kingdom remained etched in my mind, a constant reminder of the world's descent into madness.
Remi, initially bewildered, began to grasp the severity of our situation. Her innocent questions transformed into heart-wrenching pleas for reassurance. The vibrant laughter that once filled our home was replaced by a fragile silence, punctuated by the occasional sob. I tried to remain strong for her, to offer a semblance of normalcy, but the crushing weight of our predicament was almost unbearable. My parents, usually the anchors of our family, were visibly unraveling. My father's unwavering stoicism was fracturing, replaced by a haunted look in his eyes. My mother's tears flowed freely, her whispered prayers a constant, mournful symphony in our once-peaceful home. The fear was a tangible presence, a suffocating blanket that smothered our every move.
The basic necessities of life became precious commodities. Grocery stores, once mundane places, were now dangerous battlegrounds, the shelves stripped bare, the air thick with desperation and the stench of decay. We ventured out cautiously, armed with whatever we could find, the fear of the infected a constant, chilling companion. The streets, once teeming with life and laughter, were now eerily silent, the only sounds the distant wail of sirens and the unsettling whisper of the wind through empty streets. Every shadow seemed to conceal a lurking threat, every stranger a potential enemy. The world had become a terrifying, unrecognizable place, a twisted reflection of its former self. We were adrift in a sea of uncertainty, clinging to each other, praying for a miracle that seemed increasingly out of reach. The vibrant tapestry of our lives had been torn asunder, leaving us stranded in a desolate landscape of fear and despair, with only the flickering embers of hope to guide us through the encroaching darkness. The weight of it all pressed down on us, threatening to crush us, as we struggled to survive in a world that had gone mad.
To be continue.....