KISMET or DESIGN?

The sun shone high and bright igniting the vast space below.  A petite figure sat on a platform bench bathed in radiance.  Her ticket in hand, Radha looked at the grand clock and muttered under her breath, two more hours.  She looked around the small station with its one window ticket counter and a single vendor.  On a round, foldable table he stocked bottled water, soda, gum, packets of chips and candy.  Beside him sat a large tea kettle with a few clay tumblers.

Radha turned her gaze to the other end of the platform where, on a bench sat a young couple.  The petite woman covered in her bridal adornment, her red veil extending over her head, her eyes down to her chin, huddled in her corner.  The young man sporting a groom’s turban sat next to her, his left arm extending protectively behind his bride on the bench.  They did not touch, but in the way his eyes gleamed, her shoulders relaxed next to him, Radha noticed their closeness.  A small trunk sat at her feet, which Radha assumed carried all of the young bride’s possessions, her memories of childhood, and mementos from home.  Perhaps a framed picture of her parents nestled between a hand-knit sweater, an anklet from her mother’s childhood, and a scarf from father’s wardrobe to carry his comforting aroma with her.  A larger trunk stood erect on the side with presumably wedding gifts and mundane possessions.

Radha observed as her eyes glazed over to another time, a different platform. Her parents had travelled alone once, soon after the grand wedding celebration in her mother, Kanta’s village.  Her mother had related the story numerous times about the wedding and how it had been the talk of the village.  An only child, Kanta had been given a lavish sendoff even as it meant lifelong debts for her parents.  After an entertaining wedding celebration, the marriage had succeeded just as splendidly.

First were the awkward, shy moments, then understanding and respect developing into friendship over the months.  When and how that friendship evolved into love, Kanta could not recall.  All she remembered was the sweet laughter, joyous smiles and constant sparkle in her eyes.

A daughter, Radha was born out of that love and soon another, Ani. Kanta recalled those days as her happiest as she reveled in the abundance of love that surrounded her.  She even smiled through the snide remarks of her mother-in-law or hummed over the sarcasm of her sister-in-laws while they all shared a roof and cooked in the same kitchen in a joint family.

To be continued...