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Midnight's silence, Abhi's thoughts unfold,
Malini's gentle form, a treasure to hold.
A young heart, forced into marriage's bind,
A world that's harsh, where girls' dreams are left behind.
The society's chains, that bind and confine,
Abhi's heart aches, with a love so divine.
He vows to protect, to be her guiding light,
To shield her from harm, and make her life a delight.
In the darkness, he makes a promise true,
To be her canopy, her shelter, her haven anew.
To respect her dreams, to let her soar so high,
To be the safe haven, where she can live and thrive.
The world may chop her wings, but he'll give her flight,
Abhi's love, a beacon, in the dark of night.
For Malini, his love, his heart beats so true,
A vow to cherish, and see her dreams come through.
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14th April, 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK POV~
I watch as she slides toward me, hesitating, the folds of her cotton saree whispering softly against the bedsheet.
A faint smirk tugs at my lips, unbidden.
I knew she was small.
But seeing her this close.... this small, so fragile, so delicate... it unsettles me more than I expected.
Her head barely reaches my shoulder.
The crown of her hair, dark and unruly, carries the faint scent of jasmine oil, drifting up to me in soft waves.
She's eleven years younger than me.
Eleven years... not a blink, but a chasm.
A gap wide enough for different dreams, different scars, different ways of seeing the world.
And yet here she is, trembling slightly, yet bravely pressing forward.
She's fierce.
Oh, she is.
But beneath that spark, I see the rawness of youth, the soft corners she tries to hide.
Naive, stubborn, yet heartbreakingly genuine.
I exhale slowly, my chest rising against the top of her head, feeling the delicate brush of her breath over the coarse weave of my cotton kurta.
Her head grows heavier on my arm, the tension in her small body ebbing away.
I know then— she's fallen asleep.
And for a fleeting moment, I wonder…
How can someone so young, so full of unspoken stories, be bound to me?
I don't know why, but when I saw her— her fragile figure shaking, clutching her books to her chest before our marriage vows— something had twisted painfully inside me.
Her tears fell in silence, each drop heavy with more than just sadness.
It's as if those drops carry every unspoken fear, every unshared longing, every suppressed dream she was forced to bury in that moment.
I was able to feel my heart breaking in places I didn't know existed.
I know society better than she does.
I know its hunger, it's cold cruelty.
I know the vultures that circle the lives of girls like her... innocent, bright, full of promises that never get to bloom.
They wait for her to fall into the suffocating cage of marriage, ready to devour whatever hope remains of her.
A living corpse.
That's what they'll make of her.
I don't understand how these people have forgotten their own religion.
Their own culture.
Their own story.
I've read the Vedas.
I know their wisdom, their teachings, their truths.
There are no restrictions placed on women in those sacred words.
No laws that chain their spirit, no customs that bury their voice.
So how did it get to this?
What happened three thousand years ago that warped people's hearts, twisted their minds into cruelty and hatred?
What happened to make the world so dark for women like her?
But I know my truth.
I know my essence, my principles... the ones that don't bend under the weight of tradition or society.
I understand what the true rights of women are... what they should always have been.
And if I must, I will become a falcon, fierce and unyielding, to protect her innocence, her naivety.
No one will ever take away the rights given to her by the gods themselves.
Not while I'm breathing.
Not even when I'm not in this world.
Not now.
Not ever.
I gaze at her face, soft and peaceful, unaware of the battle raging in my mind.
The curve of her cheeks, the way her hair falls like a silk curtain across her face— I see it all.
A rush of warmth sweeps over me, a strange mixture of tenderness and protectiveness.
My hand trembles as I reach for her, brushing a few stray locks of hair from her forehead.
Leaning down, I press my lips gently against the delicate skin of her forehead.
The warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath— everything about her is an enigma I long to understand, to cherish.
"I vow on my name... my faith... my origin... my religion... my very existence, until death consumes me, I will nourish, respect, care, protect, love, and worship you. You are welcome in my life, my wife... my other half... my faith... my religion. MALINI ABHISHEK MUKHERJEE."
My voice is barely a whisper, but it's a promise so firm, it reverberates deep within me, echoing in the quiet night.
Her forehead is warm beneath my lips.
The air is still, the world outside forgotten.
I don't need anything else but this moment— her and I, the silence of the room, and the weight of a vow that will bind me to her forever.
~ When he's a man in a world of vultures.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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