“Here, have a look at yourself.”

Srina looked up at the reflection in the small round mirror her cousin held up in front of her.  She couldn’t help but smile, her small white teeth flashing between darkened lips of rose-colored lipstick.

“Like it, eh?  Don’t you worry.  You’re going to amaze them.  He won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

At the mention of ‘him,’ Srina’s heart fell.  Outwardly, she kept her cool.  It wouldn’t do to let people know of her apprehensions.  After all, this was something long in the making, and it was supposed to be a happy day.

There were limits to how much one could tell one’s heart though, and though she had been promised to her childhood friend long ago, she could not dictate to her heart whom to love.  For her family’s sake, however, she had to go through with the match or mire them in shame.  That would never do.  One might as well put a gun to her old father’s head and pull the trigger.

Srina realized that her unconscious knowledge of the fact that she was going to enter an arranged marriage probably explained the excesses she felt she needed to indulge in as an expatriate’s daughter in England.  Now it was all over.  The waters were figuratively closing in over her head, and there was nothing she could do about it, no one she could appeal to.  All those nights with their Western excesses had paid, she told herself over and over again.  It had paid.

The tickling sensation on the back of her hand brought her back to the present.  Henna was being applied in intricate patterns on her hands and feet.  To smudge them was to invite more fuss and bother at a time when she just felt like being alone.  Like a bird in a cage, finally realizing it was trapped.

The last she had seen him was way back when they were both in elementary.  To cement the bonds between their families they had been betrothed to each other since they were children.  She remembered a simpering weakling she had saved from a couple of teasing bullies.  She had seen him weeks ago at his family’s beach resort.  He hadn’t appeared to have changed much.  But then again, she hadn’t spent much time with him at all, so she was wary of judging him.

When it was all over she found herself alone with him, a bit tired and a bit frightened.  In the shadows of their honeymoon suite she saw him turn to her.  “Are you all right?” she heard him ask.  “If you want to rest…” He moved enough that the light filtering in through the windows highlighted his eyes.  They showed his concern.

“No, I’m alright,” she said.  “A little tired, that’s all, dear husband.” Suddenly, saying those last words didn’t seem so difficult.

“Then rest,” he told her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “I am new at this, and would like to make it work between us.”  His voice was hesitant, unsure.

“I would, too,” Srina murmured.  After all, a bird, though caged, could still sing, couldn’t it?

          The Gupta’s house was finally silent.

          “Are they asleep?” Malar asked as he took off his robe, waiting for his wife to come to bed.

          “Yes,” Damayanti whispered and suddenly grinned.  “Alone at last with my wonderful, wonderful husband!”

          He laughed as she sat down on the bed with him.  “Yes, alone at last.”

          But Damayanti suddenly slid off the bed.  “The champagne, dear husband?  I forgot to chill it!”

          “It’s already on the wine bucket over there, chilling.”

          “The caviar?”

          “On the table by the window, and yes, the crackers are also there and the shrimp cocktail, my loving wife, so don’t worry.  Now come back to bed,” he said.

          Damayanti sighed as she climbed back on the bed and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I do love you, you know that, dear Malar?”

          “As I do love you, wife,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead.

          “We really are lucky, aren’t we?  We have great children, three wonderful and very healthy boys and - ”

          “And a very sweet and very beautiful daughter,” he finished for her, “Yes, wife,” he agreed, “We are blessed.  Now, what is the celebration about?  When I found your note to prepare for a little celebration tonight, I was pleasantly surprised.  We’ve never done this before, you know, have a date inside our own bedroom,” he laughed.

          “Well,” she said shyly, drawing circles on his chest, “It’s been ages since we have had a night spent like this.  We’ve always been busy, you at work, and me with the kids.  And really, even though we always see each other and we’re always together when time permits it, I still miss you very much.  And I admit, I’m missing those years when we have only each other,” she laughed softly.  “I do love the kids, no doubt about it, but I love just being with you.  And since going on a vacation by ourselves is out of the question, I thought why not bring the vacation into our house.  Hence, this little celebration thing, and we’re celebrating the start of our new relationship with more occasions like this where we celebrate nothing.  Well, we ARE celebrating our love.”

          Malar nodded, “I understand”

          Just then the heavens lit up with lightning the heavens clapped with thunder.

          “Perfect,” Malar whispered as he began kissing her, “Rain for a more romantic night together.”

          She sighed, “Yes,” and leaned over to receive his kiss.  Then she bolted upright, “Oh, no!”

          “What?!”

          “The kids are afraid of thunder!”

          Malar groaned as he heard the children running towards their room.  Pretty soon, they heard them knocking frantically, “Let us in, Mommy!  Let us in, Daddy!”

          Damayanti sighed once more as she looked at her husband.  They both laughed as they opened the door to receive the frightened kids.

Jenani can still remember the day she met Appasami.  The memory is so vivid in her mind, it’s as if it just happened yesterday.  Has it really been 13 years since they said goodbye?  Appasami was Jenani’s first love, and she never got over him.

Oh yes, she had other relationships, but Appasami was always on her mind and maybe even in her heart.  She now realizes that she never stopped loving him all these years; that’s why none of her relationships lasted long.  Thirteen long years and she still loves the same man.

She doesn’t even know where he is now.  Is he married?  Does he have children?  Since they broke up, they haven’t been in touch.  It was better that way anyway.  Out of sight, out of mind.  But lately, she’s been having dreams about him again.  They were together and happy.

Imagine her surprise when they bumped into each other one afternoon.  It was him who actually saw her first.  She was standing on the sidewalk waiting for her turn to cross the street when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Jenani?  Is it really you?! I can’t believe it!”  Appasami enthusiastically said as he gave her a warm bear hug.

“Appasami?! Good heavens!  How are you?” Jenani uttered, hugging him back.

“I’m good.  Listen, do you have time for coffee now?” Appasami inquired.

“I’m actually on my way to the art gallery.  They offered me an exhibit.”  Jenani replied.

As they said their goodbyes, they promised to meet up later to catch up over dinner.  With a quick kiss on the cheek from him, they went their separate ways.

All afternoon, Jenani felt as if she was walking on Cloud 9.  She couldn’t believe she saw him again.  On her way out the gallery, she saw Appasami waiting for her outside the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re having an exhibit here?  That’s so great!”  Appasami said with much gusto.

He said he couldn’t wait for dinner anymore.  He wanted to be with her so much, and he had a lot to tell her.  Over dinner, Appasami monopolized the conversation saying how much he missed her and that it’s still her he loves after all these years.

All Jenani could think of was that Fate brought them together once more and gave them a second chance at love.  This time, she knows it’s forever.

“These are hard times, Kamya.”  Her parents would often say.

She knows the underlying meaning of that statement.  These are hard times, and therefore, everyone must pitch in to help out in the family’s financial burdens.  She knows that their parents are not forcing her or her younger siblings to take care of their household finances, but in her heart, she understands her obligations as the eldest child.

Kamya has always been the one to give up anything for the sake of her younger siblings.  She put herself through schools, working part time while earning a degree in business.  Now that she’s found a good job, she can help out even more in paying their bills and sending her siblings to school.  After all, education is very important so she doesn’t mind scrimping to have money for her siblings’ tuition.

Through it all, Anbumadhi was always there to support her.  They have been together for four years now.  They met way back in college.  He was a study buddy in the beginning, but love soon blossomed between them.

Her parents approve of Anbumadhi.  They like him because they can see that he takes good care of Kalai, and they can see how much he respects her.  He was almost like a part of her family already.

Lately, however, Anbumadhi has been giving hints of wanting to settle down and starting a family of their own.  Kalai knew that she still had responsibilities towards her family, and Anbumadhi knows that her family always comes first.  But Kalai also knew that it was selfish of her to ask Anbumadhi to understand her all the time.  He has been very patient all these years.

Sometimes late at night, Kalai would ask the heavens to help her in her dilemma.  She didn’t know what to do.  She loves Anbumadhi, but she also loves her family.

“Help me, please!”  She pleaded.  “Show me what to do.”

Painfully and regretfully, Kalai realized what she must do the next morning.  Her family comes first.  No matter how much she loves Anbumadhi and how painful it will be to let him go, she knows that the only solution to her problem is to give one up for the other, and she cannot give up her family.

Anbumadhi deserves to have the family he longs for, and at this time, that’s something she cannot give him.  Once again, Kalai was ready to sacrifice for the sake of her family.

Just as soon as he rose to a crouch, however, a volley of bullets erupted and the ground around him exploded in dust and soot.  Machine guns.  The enemy had located him.

Oh no, not now.  Please.  Not now.  He would’ve prayed to his God had he not given up on religion months ago.  No, there couldn’t be a God.  The world wouldn’t have fallen this low if there was.

He couldn’t understand.  He had covered his tracks perfectly.  They were -

“Mohan, hurry, come on, brother.  You can’t give up now.  Here!  We’ll hide - aah!”

Manas found himself face to face with a boy who didn’t look to be older than eith years old. The boy’s face was dirty, smeared with grime and blood.  But that wasn’t what Manas found interesting.  No, what he noticed was the Machine gun that the boy was holding.

He was about to say something – a threat, a warning, anything to get the upper hand – when another boy, who looked to be about a few years older, limped into the site.  It was obvious that, of the two, this new one was worse for wear.  He was clutching a broken leg, and there was an eggplant-colored bruise covering half of his face.

Manas stared as the first boy broke their little staring contest, focusing on his brother instead, propping the injured boy against the rock.

“Muni! Muni!  G-go, save yourself!”, the older one said weakly.

“No, Mohan, I - no!  I won’t leave you here!”

“Go!!” the older one barked before dissolving into a fit of coughing.  It was obvious to Manas that the boy didn’t have long to live.  He was even going into delirium, his pupils rising until only the white in his eyes could be seen while his body trembled in a weak spasm.

“Wa…ter…”, the older one muttered, the shadow of death clouding his mind.  The younger boy leaned into his brother, straining to hear what the boy was saying.

“Water!  Right, yes, Mohan, I’ll find some for you…just don’t…please don’t leave me…”  the boy was crying now, looking around frantically for something that he probably wouldn’t have found – and then his eyes found Manas’ canteen.  The boy stopped and stared, as if verifying if what he’s seeing is real.  And then his eyes trailed up and met Manas’ own wide eyes.  Muni looked up at him pleadingly, and Manas clutched his canteen tighter instinctively.

They kept on staring at each other then, until another volley of shots erupted around them.  Manas sighed and closed his eyes, recalling memories of the old watering hole, his friends, his family, their smiles…his life, before undoing the strap that held the canteen of water to his body.

Just as soon as he rose to a crouch, however, a volley of bullets erupted and the ground around him exploded in dust and soot.  Machine guns.  The enemy had located him.

Oh no, not now.  Please.  Not now.  He would’ve prayed to his God had he not given up on religion months ago.  No, there couldn’t be a God.  The world wouldn’t have fallen this low if there was.

He couldn’t understand.  He had covered his tracks perfectly.  They were -

“Mohan, hurry, come on, brother.  You can’t give up now.  Here!  We’ll hide - aah!”

Manas found himself face to face with a boy who didn’t look to be older than eith years old. The boy’s face was dirty, smeared with grime and blood.  But that wasn’t what Manas found interesting.  No, what he noticed was the Machine gun that the boy was holding.

He was about to say something – a threat, a warning, anything to get the upper hand – when another boy, who looked to be about a few years older, limped into the site.  It was obvious that, of the two, this new one was worse for wear.  He was clutching a broken leg, and there was an eggplant-colored bruise covering half of his face.

Manas stared as the first boy broke their little staring contest, focusing on his brother instead, propping the injured boy against the rock.

“Muni! Muni!  G-go, save yourself!”, the older one said weakly.

“No, Mohan, I - no!  I won’t leave you here!”

“Go!!” the older one barked before dissolving into a fit of coughing.  It was obvious to Manas that the boy didn’t have long to live.  He was even going into delirium, his pupils rising until only the white in his eyes could be seen while his body trembled in a weak spasm.

“Wa…ter…”, the older one muttered, the shadow of death clouding his mind.  The younger boy leaned into his brother, straining to hear what the boy was saying.

“Water!  Right, yes, Mohan, I’ll find some for you…just don’t…please don’t leave me…”  the boy was crying now, looking around frantically for something that he probably wouldn’t have found – and then his eyes found Manas’ canteen.  The boy stopped and stared, as if verifying if what he’s seeing is real.  And then his eyes trailed up and met Manas’ own wide eyes.  Muni looked up at him pleadingly, and Manas clutched his canteen tighter instinctively.

They kept on staring at each other then, until another volley of shots erupted around them.  Manas sighed and closed his eyes, recalling memories of the old watering hole, his friends, his family, their smiles…his life, before undoing the strap that held the canteen of water to his body.

In a small beautiful village lived a girl name Shruthi. She was a beautiful girl with stunning features. Her eyes were the shape of a fish, her fair skin and her beautiful long thick black hair shined in the sun.

            She was born in a poor family, her mum died when she was young, her father was a tailor and she had 2 younger brothers. So Shuruthi had to cook, clean and take her brothers to school. Her father wanted shruthi’s little brothers to study hard and become a doctors, but he did not have any hopes for Shuruthi as he felt she was just a common girl who should learn to be a good wife and mother as all girls should do.

          However Shuruthi had always dreamt of becoming a writer and when she finished her duties and sent her brothers to school, she goes to the river near her house and sits there, writing stories. Her brothers had taught her to read and write and when they are at school she uses their book to develop her writing.

          One day, she was at the river writing stories and lost track of time.

When she finally went home, her father was waiting for her. Her dad shouted at her and accused her of many things a father should not say to his daughter. Shruthi was hurt and went sleep crying.

          Next day her father announced that she will be marrying a rich young man. She begged her father not to do this. She told him that she had dreams to accomplish and there no room for a husband in her life right now. Her father just mocked her and said that a girl’s dream is to be a good wife and a mother and they are not good for anything else.

          What shruthi did not know is that this young rich man who she was supposed to marry had followed her for months to the river so he can listen to her stories. He had fallen in love with her stories and her beauty.

          Shruthi wanted to run away but she couldn’t leave her brothers and also she was worried about what the society will say about her if they heard she ran away. She had no choice but to marry him.

          She got married in misery. The only thought that was on her mind when she was getting married is that her dreams are crushed in to million pieces.

          After marriage, her husband told her that he fell in love with her stories and her beauty. When she heard that he had fallen in love with her stories, thousands of butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, her face beamed with happiness.

 He helped her develop her stories and publish them so the whole world could fall in love with her stories like he did. Few years later she was one the famous writers in the world. Shruthi had fulfilled her dreams!

Suja is a rich girl who grew up abroad.  Her family left for America when she was just five years old.  They lived a privileged life in the United States.  Although she grew up with Western influences, her parents also imbued in her traditional Indian values.

Aravin, on the other hand, grew up in his native India, and he has never been abroad.  He has never been anywhere actually.  He just stayed in the city he grew up in and never went away on trips.  He can only speak his native tongue, and his values and views on life are all typical of any young man living in his country.

When Suja finished school, she volunteered in social work.  She loved helping people, especially children who are lost, who have been abused, homeless and those that have lost all interest in living.  She was good at it, too.

Her social work brought her back to India – a place she can hardly remember.  She was saddened by the plight of the young children she saw on the streets.  During her social mission, she met Aravin.  At first, they couldn’t get along because he didn’t welcome her Western ideas, and she, likewise, didn’t like his old-school ways.

But their love for children and their volunteer work soon brought them closer.  He saw that her ideas were workable, and she understood that he only wanted the children to feel comfortable around them, hence, his refusal to include ways that are foreign to them.

During their free time, he would take her to the local café’s and restaurants and introduced her to exotic dishes she only heard of back in America.  She started falling for him, and he started loving her secretly.

One night, after having dinner in her apartment, he kissed her.  They were sitting together in front of the television, having coffee, when she turned her head to look at him, and he just kissed her softly on the lips.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that.”  He softly apologized.  “I must go.”

“Adhavan,” she said touching his arm to stop him from leaving.  “Don’t go.”

Still standing, his back turned from her, he told her that he has fallen in love with her.  He knows it’s impossible because they are from two different worlds.  Reaching out to hold his hand, she told him that she felt the same way.  That night, he stayed.  That night, they are not from different worlds.  That same night, they bridged the gap and simply let love in, traditional it may be or not.

“Sumathi!  It’s time to wash the dishes!”

Little Sumathi gave a start as her mother’s impatient voice rang through their house.  Grudgingly, she discarded her rag doll and proceeded to the kitchen where her mother was tapping the table with her ladle.

“Yes mama…”

She hated doing the dishes.  It was tiring, boring, and too mundane.  She would much rather be outside, playing with her friends.  But no, her father had forbidden it.  ‘Times are difficult, and it’s dangerous for a little girl to be outside,” he told her with an edge in his voice.

She didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.  But she could see that her mother was really worried.  And her father seemed worried, too, as he always answered questions about the ‘revolution’ with a hushed voice.  Now that she thought about it, she realized that her mother had talked in hushed tones as well.

Her parents had to huddle together each time they talked about this “revolution.”  It made Sumathi feel like she was being left in the dark about a really, really juicy secret.  She really didn’t like it.

Oh well, if they didn’t want to tell her, then she’d find out herself!

She slowed her pace in washing the dishes, straining to hear little tidbits from her parents’ conversation.  What she heard, however, were words her seven year old brain could barely comprehend.  They said something about a “Mr. Churchill,” and they mentioned something about “It” happening soon.  What piqued her curiosity, though, was when they said something about a guy named Gandhi who was, she heard, not eating – had not eaten for days, actually.

“The poor guy,” she thought.  One time, she missed dinner, and she became so hungry that she almost cried.  She couldn’t take it – that insistent churning in her tummy.  It was so…so uncomfortable.

She was down to the last few dishes, so she dallied even more.  There was still a lot she didn’t know.  However, it seemed that her parents had heard her as they had stopped their serious conversation abruptly and changed the topic to something more mundane – Aunt Ahila’s new baby.

How boring, she thought, finishing up the rest of the dishes with a huff.

Sumathi woke up the next day to her mother’s frantic screaming.  She was shouting about freedom and independence and a lot of other things which her young brain could still not grasp.

‘What changed?’  She wondered.  The whole day, she kept on trying to find out what it was.  But the grownups were much too busy to take notice of her.  They were hustling about, talking animatedly with each other, giving each other an excited pat on the shoulder.  But nobody – not even her mama – had cared to tell her the secret.

“Sumathi!  It’s time to wash the dishes!”

This time, though, there was a happy lilt in her mother’s voice.  And Sumathi thinks that whatever it is that changed… it must have been good.

And for her, that was enough.

Santhi was a typical girl from the province when Adhavan met her.  He had to go to her town to do a little background check for a possible expansion for his company.  At 25, he was already showing great promise as a Civil Engineer, and this project is his first big break.

Although he comes from a rich family, he never let this stop him from pursuing his own dreams.  His family wanted him to take over the business once he graduates from college, but he had other plans.

Much to his family’s disappointment, Adhavan decided to carve his own path.  Thankfully, after years of being in conflict with his parents, they are finally slowly accepting his decision, and now, they are starting to see that he made the right choice.

Santhi was walking home from the market when she saw a sleek black car stop just inches away from her.  She had a good day today, selling all her vegetables in the market.  She stopped in her tracks when she saw a handsome young man get off the car and walk towards her.

“Good day to you.  Is the town plaza still far from here?”  Adhavan inquired.  This girl is possibly the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on.

“No, you’re just a few meters away now.  Just make a right turn at the corner store and go straight.  You won’t miss it.”

“Thank you.  I am Adhavan, by the way.”  He said, extending his hand.

“My name is Santhi.”  She shyly answered, taking his hand to shake it.

She hurriedly said her excuses and walked away from this man who is starting to send goosebumps all over her.  She felt something when he took her hand.  It was as if an electric current ran down her spine all the way to her legs and she felt weak.

Adhavan went on to work on his project for at least a year in her home town, and everyday, he would pay her a visit and give her gifts.  He never failed to show her how much he loves her.

Finally, after a year of courtship, Santhi accepted his proposal.  She had never had a relationship before.  She didn’t know that the love of a man could consume her whole being and render her helpless and yet happy at the same time.  So this is what they call love.  She’ll never forget the day she met him.  It was the day she fell in love with him.