Chapter 4: The Marriage

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Souls remember your love even if not memories.

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"Keep a happy face. That's it."

The road was washed with rosewater and scented with sandalwood. Ishvara was finally in Ishgar. Really, how much the Rajan had spent to prepare such a grand welcome for her? It worried Ishvara a little, if all these gestures were a mere show of money and not familial affection. Expected to be prudent and of gentle disposition, she didn't jump into a conclusion so soon.

Could she, whose past was unknown to her own self, be so loved? Whose lineage was buried deep be respected and pampered so much?

The townspeople took her inside a humble cottage where she was to be resting till Aryamna was ready.

Yes, that is his name.

They ushered her to a bridal swing decorated with tuberose and marigolds, emerald climbers twirled around the taut, thick ropes. It was the centre of attraction of the room.
And now when Ishvara sat on it, all eyes were on her. Some women lightly pushed the swing from behind, cautiously as to not make her feel any discomfort.

"My princess..." An old woman with a hunchback greeted. As a sign of respect Ishvara stood and smiled.

"I am the oldest member of this village. I saw the plague and the destruction, and then the revival of this place. The sole witness of it all."

Goosebumps crawled over her skin. Ishvara exchanged a quick glance with Shitalaa.

"The Rajan asked me to gift this to you." And she handed Ishvara a veil- a deep blood red shimmering fabric lighter than the air with floral patterns embroidered in aurate strings. But as Ishvara touched it, her mind teetered between the present and the intangible.

The visions of a distant past that haunted her to give it a name- roaring pyres shrieking as the sky groaned, a blizzard of mourning dwellers and a rain that didn't stop.
They flooded her mind. Ishvara searched in them something familiar. Every time in these visions she stopped inside a cottage, feeling the breath leaving her body.

She tried to hold back the gasp. Initially when these visions used to come, she would convulse. Things had improved now, though hope was feeble. Ishvara knew she was recalling the plague and maybe it was her on the verge of death inside that cottage. Blurred silhouettes were present in the vision but Ishvara could not distinguish them.

Though, there was a little man, very little, like a dwarf.

She put on the veil. "Thank you. It's very pretty."

"The Rajan's choice, thus, is never questioned."

Shitalaa kept her engaged in a conversation, replying on her behalf most of the times when a question was directed at the bride. The guests took it as a sign of her reserved and shy nature, an etiquette formed out of a possibly strict upbringing. Being just the common folk it could be safely presumed they didn't know much about what her lifestyle really had been in the Gandhar palace.

Time passed in silence. Refreshments were served as Ishvara endured with a grumbling stomach. Oh, if only a marriage had been simpler! She only had some flatbread in the morning before beginning the fast.

An hour passed. No sign of the groom arriving. Then all of a sudden a hubbub ensued. People became too cheerful like being affected by some gala lunacy. "The bride has been called. The marriage will take place."

Shitalaa grabbed her palm. "It's time."

She took Ishvara's hand in hers and along with many more women journeyed outside the cottage. A palanquin had been kept ready, a different one this time, probably from the Rajan.

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