so how do you breathe, sometimes... ?

It was the 26th or 24th of May 2000-something i dont remember exactly, maybe 2002, or 3 when my sweet, SWEET ***** got married.

The evening before, I caught a plane to Chennai where she was... waiting to get married the next day.

My oldest brother fetched me from the airport, and when I reached Haja Atthaa's house, it was already the dead of night and everyone was asleep.

I had eaten my dinner on the plane, so all I had to do was take my clothes off and sleep... The room was littered with an assortment of female relatives and my cousin proceeded to use me as a bolster pillow the moment I settled next to her in bed. I didnt mind, really.

However, my mother DID mind - and terribly, when she saw me in the morning, in a loose T-shirt and well.. some other clothes, saying I was becoming more and more man-like as each day passed.

There was SO MUCH work to be done!!! Maasha Allah, my ***** was getting married that day!

She looked radiant, though not happy, per se.

She looked beautiful, with her henna adorned hands and arms and feet and legs - but somehow troubled. I didnt say anything to her.

I was given the task of decorating the bridal chamber.

I was taken to the place, and when I reached there, I was given a couple of rattan baskets full of the reddest roses I had ever seen, and some loose jasmine buds, a large roll of sticky tape and a two pairs of scissors, one big and one small. "Decorate" was all I was told and I was left to my devices.

So decorate I did... roses on their stem 6 inches long criss-crossed on the walls, held fast with sticky tape, and there were pandanus leaves and jasmine left in a specific pattern on the bed.

I hadnt eaten anything the whole day, - I couldnt.

The bride came into the room sometime after lunch time and smiled weakly, and asked me if I would be able to put some light make-up on her face. I smiled back lightly and with tears in my eyes - said : "of course, I would be able to do that."

I think that must have been one of the happiest days in my whole life; I made the face of the bride, waiting to get married, and dressed her in the beautiful green wedding saree, that was chosen for her, I made her hair and placed jasmine flowers in her hair and finally placed the golden veil on her head that covered her face.

She said : "you must get dressed too." I realised then.. i was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black T-Shirt and I had sticky tape in my hair. I didnt mind looking like that.. I didnt mind if people thought I was the house-maid. I was happy, that this girl would be wed in less that 3 hours.

The time for Nikkah, came. I managed to wear a red saree, a perfect foil for the bride's green, and sat next to her, making sure the perspiration didnt fall into her eyes from her brow. I had a box of tissue in my hand, and a small bottle of water in case the bride got thirsty.

Believe me... you do NOT know how hot, crowded and harassing an Indian Muslim Wedding is, ... Until you are IN ONE.

So she signed the papers saying that she agreed to the marriage, and the book was taken to the groom and she could see that he was signing on the paper too, next to her name.

She started to cry.. and cry.. and cry..

I was heart-broken for this girl. I wondered why she was crying. It should be the happiest day of her life, and here she was crying her eyes out.

I hissed quietly into her ear, " STOP...CRYING..."

She didnt listen and she went on crying. Everyone wondered why she was crying so, including her new mother in law.

It was soon time for her to go to sit with the groom, on the dais set in the lawn, where he was waiting for her, to take her place next to him. I helped her up and we made our way slowly towards him and at last her crying eyes stopped crying and subsided into the occasional sniffle.

Her eyes were downcast and she depended on me solely to get her to her husband.

I did my job, and my brothers took her up the stairs, I think. I can not remember so well.

There was much mubaarak ho's and congratulations and photo taking.

I just wanted to sit down and think, rest, and think some more.

I had some food.. and that was when I realised how famished I was. It was time for the happy couple to have their meal.... And I still fed the girl off my own hands, as they sat next to Haja Attha.

Many years, since... I asked the girl, " WHY did you cry on your wedding day? "

She merely said, stroking the head of her third-born child: " I had had enough of waiting and I simply want to be with the man I love. I wish you could have understood what I felt at the time"

~~~~~

Its many years past, since I made up the bride and decorated her room. Many years past since she cried on her wedding day. And I also guess its many years past, and Age and Time finally caught up with ME.

I had changed.

I am no longer the same person I was ALL those years ago. I am no longer the rugged, and tough person I was all those years ago.

I realised - finally : I am a WOMAN. I love roses and flowers, I love PINK Sarees, and I love pefume, and I love cooking and I love watching people eat the food I cook. I love listening to music, while reading a book, and I simply love sitting next to someone while the TV is on, in companionable silence, appreciating the movie.

I CAN and DO APPRECIATE now why the bride cried on her wedding day... She wanted to be with the man she loved, and she wanted to be loved in return.

As Time runs past me, I realise just how difficult it is, to manage by one's self. It is even more difficult when the man whom you'd be thinking would be the final partner in your life, keeps changing the subject every time you ask about a marriage date. It is especially difficult when he does not openly declare what relationship he has with you to others, and leaves them wondering.

So here I am... with no man... at the age of 42.

So how do you breathe,.. sometimes..? When you know that the only world that you know of is coming down on you crumbling bit by bit? How do you breath, sometimes.. when you realise that you have been taken for a ride for the last 4 years.

FOUR YEARS of investing in someone's life, and living a dream, one that will never come true, because you have been lied to.

I wish that I too could cry like the bride did on her wedding day. No, not on MY Wedding Day.. I dont think I would ever get married, now. Ever, again... Look at me.. I am FORTY-TWO Years Old...

Exactly what use can I be, to any man who wants a good strong wife who would be able to keep his house for him, and care for him, and maybe even give him children?

But I want to cry and cry and cry, like the bride did on her wedding day.

Maybe then, the tears in my heart would stop flowing.. and I can breathe again.