Posted:
-Darmiyaan-
She watched herself, the red material of her bridal sari wrapping around her waist, highlighting the glow of her skin. The gold jewellery complimenting the red in her sari, bringing out the brown in her eyes. The red in her sari, complimenting the red in her bloodshot eyes.
This was supposed to be a day most girls dream of as they grow up, their wedding day. A marriage built on love, trust, friendship. A mutual understanding, a conscious decision made over time, that yes. Yes, that is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. The person I want to see every morning, as I wake up and every night before I go to bed. Yes, that one person who becomes so intimate, so close, so near that it becomes hard to separate where they began and where you ended. That one individual who matches your personality, compliments your quirks, highlights your strengths and makes you feel comfortable. Confident. Like you are loved. Like you are wanted. Like you are worth it. Like you have family to call your own. Her own.
Since she was a little girl, she dreamt of being successful. So successful that her past would become nothing but a little mark on her soul. A mark that would remind her everyday of her roots and nothing more. A mark that would remind her of her own character; determined, tough and strong. A mind so sharp and capable that it would have every tool required to solve any puzzle at hand. She knew she was resourceful, but she knew wasn't cunning. The girl who lived for herself since she was young, then had another to look after as well; her brother, her baby. Another reason for her to succeed in life and she knew that she would. No matter what, there was nothing that would hold her down because she had all the fuel in this world. To succeed.
And then came he.
Him. With his green eyes, reeking of arrogance, superiority and an ego so rigid that his own posture rigid. Made him unapproachable, his eyes piercing souls of his clients, making him a commendable businessmen; resourceful and cunning.
They met. And they clashed. Clashed with all their mights, their fundamental auras clashing creating waves of destructive cohesion. Cohesion so violent that it repelled the two. Cohesion so addictive that is forced the two to interact again. They didn't understand it, they just fought it out, fought out their frustration on each other. They didn't know what attracted them to eachother, but they sought each other out. To fight. Again.
They sought each other out.
Even their fundamental souls clashed, they still sought each other out. In their times of need, in times of happiness, in the times when they needed to feel another human presence. It didn't matter that their crux didn't connect, no, all that mattered was they were resourceful. And both knew when to use those said resources to their own aid. So they did. They become each other's resources, the strongest, the most trustworthy, the most reliable. The most valuable.
But they weren't there yet. Their journey hadn't reached its summit. They had just started out and they had let misunderstandings come in between the two. Severe misunderstandings. She believed that he believed her class determined her actions, her future. He believed that she could stoop to any level to achieve her goals. Misunderstandings and ill people ruined them. Destroyed their similarities, deepened their fundamental crux.
And here she was. Forced to be his bride. Forced to marry a man she believed thought her to be nothing because of the parents she was born into. Because of the economic status, her parents and consequently she spent her entire life in. Because her bank balance determined her worth. Because he had no one else to take his runaway bride's place.
She was a replacement. A second option, a backup. To be someone else's bride. In her entire life, she had never felt so broken, so betrayed. So worthless. In the snap of his fingers, he made sure her entire self esteem bristled down to nothingness. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her dreams. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her ambition. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her.
In that split moment, she vowed that he would regret his decision. That would make him regret his decision. In that split moment, she had decided. That she would make him regret his entire thought process. He broke her, and hence she would in turn break him.
Break his persona, break his attitude, break his ego. Break his pride. What he held so dear to him, she would tear, strip and shred. And make him relive that moment of depression again and again. Make him regret the day he decided to cross her and break her apart. She would recuperate, she would regroup and then she will strike. If he was resourceful and cunning, she was already half way there.
The red of her sari complimented the red in her bloodshot eyes.
-*-*-*-
I don't know even know what I have written myself? I am just extremely bored and hence this was the outcome. Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms, shoes are welcomed too (converses are preferable).
-P xx
PS- A staunch feminist. Peace.
DO NOT COPY THIS POST AS THIS IS EXCLUSIVE TO INDIA FORUMS
She watched herself, the red material of her bridal sari wrapping around her waist, highlighting the glow of her skin. The gold jewellery complimenting the red in her sari, bringing out the brown in her eyes. The red in her sari, complimenting the red in her bloodshot eyes.
This was supposed to be a day most girls dream of as they grow up, their wedding day. A marriage built on love, trust, friendship. A mutual understanding, a conscious decision made over time, that yes. Yes, that is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. The person I want to see every morning, as I wake up and every night before I go to bed. Yes, that one person who becomes so intimate, so close, so near that it becomes hard to separate where they began and where you ended. That one individual who matches your personality, compliments your quirks, highlights your strengths and makes you feel comfortable. Confident. Like you are loved. Like you are wanted. Like you are worth it. Like you have family to call your own. Her own.
Since she was a little girl, she dreamt of being successful. So successful that her past would become nothing but a little mark on her soul. A mark that would remind her everyday of her roots and nothing more. A mark that would remind her of her own character; determined, tough and strong. A mind so sharp and capable that it would have every tool required to solve any puzzle at hand. She knew she was resourceful, but she knew wasn't cunning. The girl who lived for herself since she was young, then had another to look after as well; her brother, her baby. Another reason for her to succeed in life and she knew that she would. No matter what, there was nothing that would hold her down because she had all the fuel in this world. To succeed.
And then came he.
Him. With his green eyes, reeking of arrogance, superiority and an ego so rigid that his own posture rigid. Made him unapproachable, his eyes piercing souls of his clients, making him a commendable businessmen; resourceful and cunning.
They met. And they clashed. Clashed with all their mights, their fundamental auras clashing creating waves of destructive cohesion. Cohesion so violent that it repelled the two. Cohesion so addictive that is forced the two to interact again. They didn't understand it, they just fought it out, fought out their frustration on each other. They didn't know what attracted them to eachother, but they sought each other out. To fight. Again.
They sought each other out.
Even their fundamental souls clashed, they still sought each other out. In their times of need, in times of happiness, in the times when they needed to feel another human presence. It didn't matter that their crux didn't connect, no, all that mattered was they were resourceful. And both knew when to use those said resources to their own aid. So they did. They become each other's resources, the strongest, the most trustworthy, the most reliable. The most valuable.
But they weren't there yet. Their journey hadn't reached its summit. They had just started out and they had let misunderstandings come in between the two. Severe misunderstandings. She believed that he believed her class determined her actions, her future. He believed that she could stoop to any level to achieve her goals. Misunderstandings and ill people ruined them. Destroyed their similarities, deepened their fundamental crux.
And here she was. Forced to be his bride. Forced to marry a man she believed thought her to be nothing because of the parents she was born into. Because of the economic status, her parents and consequently she spent her entire life in. Because her bank balance determined her worth. Because he had no one else to take his runaway bride's place.
She was a replacement. A second option, a backup. To be someone else's bride. In her entire life, she had never felt so broken, so betrayed. So worthless. In the snap of his fingers, he made sure her entire self esteem bristled down to nothingness. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her dreams. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her ambition. In the snap of his fingers, he ruined her.
In that split moment, she vowed that he would regret his decision. That would make him regret his decision. In that split moment, she had decided. That she would make him regret his entire thought process. He broke her, and hence she would in turn break him.
Break his persona, break his attitude, break his ego. Break his pride. What he held so dear to him, she would tear, strip and shred. And make him relive that moment of depression again and again. Make him regret the day he decided to cross her and break her apart. She would recuperate, she would regroup and then she will strike. If he was resourceful and cunning, she was already half way there.
The red of her sari complimented the red in her bloodshot eyes.
-*-*-*-
I don't know even know what I have written myself? I am just extremely bored and hence this was the outcome. Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms, shoes are welcomed too (converses are preferable).
-P xx
PS- A staunch feminist. Peace.
Anupamaa
Cricket
