Marriages are made in heaven and lived together on earth

Lying on the bed recklessly and confused on whether to go for my phone or the book beneath my pillow that kept peeping through its cover every now and then; I picked to choose my phone over the book gazing through some Facebook and Instagram feeds, for I wanted to get some insights on the outside world and peep into the whereabouts of my old friend. As I opened it, the feeds section started flooding with pictures and posts of the pre and post wedding stuff people put up these days captioning with such heavy terms like couple goals and blah blah. Some of them were simply meant to fetch those limelights, while some touched real hearts to the extent to make you believe in love. That real love exists.

I have always loved the idea of love marriages, and I wanted to do one. I had always wondered how marriage happen, whether love or arranged. My heart voted for love while my mind just defeated what my heart kept saying and I don’t know who really won. Enchanted by those rosy images of love and couples, I didn’t realize when I drifted into the world of unconsciousness when I suddenly woke up by continuous bells at the door trying to beat the loudness of my soothing sleep. As I approached the door, there stood my husband my better half at the door returning from work. We were two strangers under one roof. Yes!

We have been married for a year, a full span of a year. He smiled at me, I managed to reciprocate, however, mine wasn’t as warm as his. As he comforted himself, I came up with two cups of coffee. Strong dark one. He always picked coffee over tea, for he knew how intense was my love for coffee. We were together but I don’t know why we never shared those warm glances and why our talks never continued for long. Maybe I never tried. Maybe we just existed. Simply existed. It was always like this. We were two good people in a good house and I wonder why we didn’t make a  good home by now.

Ours was an arranged marriage. We met once with family’s consent and I knew I had to marry him seeing that urge in my parents’ eyes. He was a nice man, a family person, an everything you actually need in a husband. But I wasn’t so excited, I never wanted to marry so early, at the age of 22. An age of dreams, desires, and expectations. But again, I did. But since the day we are married, I lagged behind. I know he liked me rather loved me for he accepted me with full heart and soul. And here was I standing with curtains of illusions on my vision who was just existing. But don’t take me wrong. I always was a good wife. I managed his food, work, family, home, his all. And he seemed proud of it. I wanted to give a lot. But probably that was all I could really give and he never asked for more.

Time flew by leaps and bounds and two strange soulmates landed up to the year’s most awaited season; the Christmas season, the chilly winters, the streetlights trying to flaunt themselves up wiping off the mist covered, the snowflakes on the trees and bushes and the festive vibes all around. A huge new year’s eve party awaited us downstairs. We groomed ourselves to come up together and rushed down the stairs. I was clad in a black dress he secretly bought for me and when he saw me in it, his eyes spoke although his lips didn’t. He seemed mesmerized. Winter turned chilly with every extra hour of the night and our love turned even warmer than the outside chilliness.

Huge crowds putting up their presence by the pool with champagnes and cakes, shouts and hurrahs to welcome the new year that just kept peeping from the door waiting for its turn to enter the era. I was lost and suddenly my husband didn’t seem near me. I was anticipated. I was lost. I was shattered. This never happened ever. This was something new. And to my surprise, he knocked me from behind. I could sense he was a bit high, his feet couldn’t hold the floor tight and his lips shivered. He wanted to speak something. I knew he wasn’t to stay there anymore.

As I held him tight by his arms and anchored his way through the crowd, many eyes on me gave me the feeling of being a perfect wife. I know I was one. I know I needed to be even better.We landed up home soon and he kept smiling silently at me. That smile was so raw, so pure, so heavenly as if he got his all in me that day. A ray of hope that makes its way from a slit of a ventilator in a dark room. It was like that. The Harry Potter’s magic wand had done its job.

Next morning to my surprise, I couldn’t wake up. The chilled winter was the culprit. I froze to illness, my heart heavy and my head ached and my body running high temperatures. My vague dull eyes trying to make some room through my eyelids to see outside when I saw those two hopeful eyes surrounded by drowsiness all in sleep. It was his. He had been sitting there all night with me, with a bowl of warm water and the cloth still felt warm on my forehead with that warmth running down my heart. And my eyes turned down again. I don’t know how I managed to live another day.

There must have been something that kept me alive and the purpose was lucid clear. That morning my eyes didn’t ache and they opened wide, wide apart to see the life bereft of illusion. And there stood he; with a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes kept asking “Do you wish to be mine forever?” And my eyes said back to him nothing, but a smile and a few droplets of tears requesting to fall on his hands. I knew this was the bond my mom had always talked about. That ‘marriages are made in heaven and lived together on earth‘. Yes, she was Right. Like they say if you meet someone and your heart stops beating and your breath pounds, then he’s not the one. He’s the one if he calms you. And he was my calm I got after years. We met for a reason and we met this time for seasons. And he handed me the coffee before it would turn cold. And we smiled. That day I loved something more than coffee. Probably someone !!! 🙂

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