Ten years back, on this auspicious date, she got married to Borah. The wedding had been stupendous. Dressed up in her mother’s jewellery, she looked every bit a princess. The love socked jets thrown to her through Borah’s gaze pierced all the way through her blossomed body to the very core – her fluttering heart, only to enthral him with the sight of a bright red hue that spread on her cheeks. His eyes, the colour of jet black kohl, caressed her intentionally and she saw herself cocooning into a shy petite mould inside them. That night, they made love on a floral mattress, the mesmerising odour of fresh flowers insinuating deep into her senses, reviving them.
Sita sat huddled in their kitchen, serving him his favourite dish, as the beautiful events of her past flashed across her mind. A hesitant smile dangled at the corners of her quivering lips as she snuggled closer onto her most precious asset, a saffron saree gifted by him in the nascent stage of their marital journey.
” The food is bland ”
Borah remarked unabashedly. Resentful and hurt, an excruciating pain swept through her as those words jostled her back to the present.
Her mother’s dying words came rushing to her heart the very next moment, like it did in every other time of adversity. Love wins all battles. She just had to keep loving him ignoring all odds, subservient and altruistic, she knew.
“I need to be more careful tomorrow”. Sita told herself