The day she came, stepped into this house, I, had no preconception whatsoever how my life would be metamorphosed.
I was there, standing gazing, peaking with joy, driving the sane man out me to embrace the life of a married man.
I hadn't dreamt or wondered nor had I wished the way my first night would transpire,although my mind and the senses were equivocally pursuing the positivist me that those lips, nose and deep cheek bones wouldn't have bourgeois expectations.
I was nervous when she kicked the rice bowl at the door, I could see my shadow floating over the red puddle filled thali she just stepped in. It made me realize the depth of relation and how that could change me.
My manhood could be stepped over by her. I had no idea what went over in her mind; was she clever, stupid or plain and simple as I wanted. Would she boss over or contrarily lead me to a life of enlightenment with grace. Would she embrace my relatives and family or push them in the thunderous barn if and when the need to stand steadfast together arrived.
Juggling the musings with what future held,still staring in the red water, I shuddered as the electric touch of soft fingers grazed, inducing a feeling of a strange entity but with a subtle warmth of love on my wrists. She had traveled and stood gazing expectantly at my confused face in front of me with people witnessing the newly married us.
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