• Published : 23 May, 2022
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The auspicious notes of the shehnais reverberated in the air. Patterns of hibiscuses, jasmines, bougainvillaeas, and marigold accentuated the revelry of the banquet hall. The colour of the lotuses adorning the mandap at the centre of the room matched the bride’s attire. 
Kankana’s heart fluttered as she awaited the groom’s arrival. She had waited for this day for ages. In fact, she had used her first salary to purchase the peach wedding lehenga and choli three years ago without telling her mother. 
At the thought of her mother, Kankana’s lips parted to highlight the dimples. She was the youngest of four children raised by her hardworking mother single-handedly. Distraught at the birth of yet another girl child, her father abandoned them soon after Kankana’s birth. Her mother had worked two shifts and yet not let her children feel the absence of a father. It was her mother’s dream to see all her daughters educated, get a job and settle down, in that order. 
“Respect begets respect. You will respect yourself once you stand on your own two feet. Then your life partner, too, will hold you in high esteem. That will make for a marriage of equals,” her mother often told them. 
And yet, the quinquagenarian was worried when Kankana didn’t show any inclination to marry two years into her job. 
“All in good time, Ma,” Kankana assured the sceptical lady. “Let my dream come true first,” she told her mother once, glancing wistfully at the peach attire in her wardrobe. 
Finally, she met the man she had been waiting for. She had first met Vivek through a matrimony site. After five meetings, she was satisfied enough with her choice to introduce him to her mother. 
The proud lady was aghast at first. “I may have given you too much freedom, Kankana. But this is not a suitable match. Society wouldn’t accept it. Why, even your own sisters will be against it. No, I will not meet this man of yours.” 
“It doesn’t matter what the society, your relatives, and your children think. The only thing that matters is your happiness. Please meet Vivek once and decide after that. There is no hurry. The marriage will not happen until and unless you say so.” 
Kankana’s mother had relented with reluctance and met Vivek with her. As Kankana expected, they both warmed up to each other from the first meeting. Still, it took a year for her mother to come around for the wedding. Kankana had finally taken the peach lehenga and choli from the box and given them for dry cleaning. She wanted the D-day to be perfect. 
Her relatives were taken aback. So were her siblings. But Kankana, always the headstrong one, had stood her ground. Surprisingly, so did her mother. Eventually, everyone who mattered came around. Those who didn’t come around didn’t matter. 
“The groom has arrived.” The pronouncement from her sister jolted Kankana from her reverie. He looked even more handsome than usual in a black bandhgala suit and trousers with a red rose in his right breast pocket. The pink headgear added to his considerable height. 
Kankana smiled at him when he came to the mandap. “You look gorgeous today,” he whispered as he sat down. 
“Thank you,” Kankana said. “You look dashing yourself. Nervous?” 
“I am. Is it that evident?”
“No, it isn’t. And don’t worry, everything will be fine,” she assured him. 
The pandit commenced the formalities. “Please call the bride to the mandap,” he said after five minutes. 
Kankana turned back and signalled her elder sister. The bridal room door opened some seconds later, and out came the bride, looking resplendent in her peach attire, flanked by her two oldest children on either side. 
A gust of wind blew in the room, and the hanging banner announcing ‘Rajalakshmi weds Vivek’ fluttered with the wind. 
As Rajalakshmi traced her steps to the mandap, her eyes met those of her youngest and favourite daughter Kankana. The two women smiled. 
As her mother reached near her, Kankana took Rajalakshmi’s hands into her own, pressed them reassuringly, and helped her into the vacant seat on the mandap beside Vivek. No words were exchanged. None were needed. 
“Ma needs a second chance,” she had explained innumerable times to her siblings in the last four months. “She has all the right to start a new life. Besides, she has sacrificed so much for our happiness. Who will think about her happiness if not us?.” The fiery young woman had ultimately prevailed.
Kankana was the happiest person in the world today. Her mother was getting married. Again. 
The doting daughter had arranged a suitable match for her mother. The guests would remember this wedding like no other.

About the Author

Smita Das Jain

Joined: 22 May, 2022 | Location: GURUGRAM, India

A writer by passion and an author of four published books, Smita Das Jain writes every day. Samples of her writing are visible in her home office, her sunny terrace garden, her husband’s car, and the kitchen napkins. Her debut short story collectio...

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