Monsoon Clouds - 5. Sandhya
Chapter 5 - Sandhya's Wedding
5.1 A Sunday of Unspoken Hopes
It was 10 a.m. on a quiet Sunday morning. With my economics and commerce notes in hand, I stepped out in my orange home-wear churidar, calling out to Mom that I would be back in the evening from Sandhya’s house. It was nothing unusual—some Sundays I stayed over there, and on others she stayed with us. Yet this time, beneath the casual announcement, lived a silent wish—to see Rahul.
My steps were quicker than usual, far from my normal calm walk. Anticipation rushed through me, stirring emotions I couldn’t fully understand or control. As I reached Sandhya’s building, my eyes instinctively searched for Rahul’s bike. Not finding it, my face fell. Still, I held on to hope—I’d be there all day; maybe I’d get a chance to see him. With that thought, I climbed upstairs.
Aunty looked elegant in a brown Kancheepuram saree, paired with a long chain, while Uncle appeared equally charming in his cream safari suit. One glance was enough to tell they were headed to a wedding. After exchanging warm greetings, they left, promising to return by evening. Satish had gone for his IIT practice test, and Ravi too was out. They were glad I had come, happy that Sandhya wouldn’t be alone.
Sandhya soon walked into the hall, wearing an ash-colored nighty, gently drying her wet hair. Once Aunty and Uncle left, the two of us settled into her room with cups of hot tea, finally relaxed.
“Where were you yesterday?” I asked immediately. “I missed you so much—and the rain made everything worse.”
“Relax, Rekha,” she smiled. “I’ll tell you everything. But first, tell me about college and classes. My story is a long one.”
I updated her about lectures, assignments due on Monday, and the chaos caused by the rain. Eventually, I told her about Rahul dropping me home on his bike—and about the lie I had told my parents. Sandhya gently advised me to tell them the truth. A lie, she said, would only weigh on my heart. I agreed. This was what I loved about her—she always guided me toward the right path.
We cooked chicken together, which Uncle had brought earlier, and after lunch, I reminded her of her promise to tell her story.
* * *
5.2 Rain, Confessions, and a Friend’s Secret
Sandhya began by telling me about her visit to her aunt’s house—Rama Rao Uncle’s sister, who lived at the other end of the city. They had a special guest from the US—Vamshi, Uncle’s nephew. He had completed his MS at Oklahoma University, secured a job in California, and decided to visit India before joining work. Along with visiting family and attending a friend’s wedding in Bangalore, he had come to see Sandhya.
Their families had spoken of their marriage since childhood, and they had grown up with that unspoken understanding. Vamshi was tall, fair, and handsome; Sandhya, slightly shorter and tanned, carried a charm that lit up her face. Together, they looked perfectly matched.
Vamshi adored Sandhya—and she felt the same. He was the reason her phone had been busy on her birthday night. He had brought her many gifts from the US—some known to the family, others meant only for her. She handed me a packet of chocolates he had specially brought for her, asking me to take some home.
I teased her relentlessly, especially about the rainy evening. After much persuasion, she finally gave in.
They had planned a movie and dinner, but the rain ruined everything. Instead, they stayed home, spent time with family, and watched the rain from the balcony while Aunty prepared pakoras. Vamshi spoke about his university, job, and life in the US, and they lost track of time until Aunty called them for tea and snacks.
As Sandhya tried to leave, Vamshi held her hand, looking deep into her eyes. Despite Aunty calling out, he refused to let go. Finally, Sandhya bit his hand lightly, freeing herself and rushing to bring tea. When she returned, he pretended to sulk. After all her attempts failed, she used her final trick—standing on her toes and kissing his cheek.
That worked.
They made peace, sharing tea and pakoras, agreeing to exchange cups after every three sips. She laughed as she said the rain, the power cut, and even the electricity department deserved her gratitude—for giving them privacy and moments they would cherish. Out of respect for his parents, they eventually joined everyone in the hall.
As she finished, I noticed a glow on her face—she was hiding something. I pressed her.
After a pause, in a shy whisper, she confessed, “Vamshi returned the kiss… on my lips.”
“English kiss?” I shouted.
She quickly covered my mouth, nodded, and looked down, blushing.
“How was it?” I teased.
“You’ll know when your husband kisses you,” she said, escaping to answer the doorbell.
Satish returned from his test, cutting our conversation short. Soon after, I started my walk back home, chocolates in hand. On the way, my eyes once again searched for Rahul’s bike—but there was no sign of it.
With a quiet disappointment settling in my heart, I walked home slowly, wishing the day had ended differently.
* * *
5.3 The Truth Told in the Kitchen
After reaching home, I walked straight into the kitchen. Mom was busy preparing evening tea and snacks, and I pretended to help her, moving around casually. When she asked about what happened at Sandhya’s place, I began narrating everything like a rapid-fire news bulletin, carefully avoiding the one thing that truly mattered.
As she continued making tea, I leaned lightly on her shoulder. She immediately sensed something unusual.
“Do you need money?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“New dress? Picnic?” she guessed again, then finally gave up.
Gathering courage, I said softly, “I want to tell you something… but please don’t get angry.”
Her expression changed instantly. She stopped what she was doing and looked straight into my eyes. Unable to face her gaze, I rested my head on her shoulder and forced the words out, one by one.
“Yesterday… evening… I didn’t… come in an auto.”
Her eyes widened. She almost raised her voice, then remembered Dad was in the hall and controlled herself. Her face flushed red.
“Then how did you come?” she asked sharply, still holding back.
Seeing her like that made me uneasy, but I knew I had to continue. She calmed herself, pretending to be normal, wanting to hear everything clearly before reacting.
Rahul didn’t need much explanation. She had already seen him on Sandhya’s birthday, and with a few hints, she understood who he was. I explained the situation—no buses, no autos, no options left. Coming on his bike was the only choice.
She listened silently. Though somewhat convinced, her traditional instincts kicked in. She felt Dad needed to know and passed the matter to him, expecting him to decide.
I carried tea and snacks into the hall, where Dad was watching TV. Mom stood near the kitchen door, her usual spot, watching his reaction closely. I repeated the entire story to him. He was clearly displeased at first, but after thinking about the rain, the situation at the bus stop, and my helplessness, he softened.
Still, one question remained heavy in the air—why did I lie to them?
I explained that they were already tense and worried, and I didn’t want to add to their stress. Though they weren’t fully comfortable with my answer, they adjusted—because they were my parents. But I received a strict warning, delivered softly yet firmly: know your limits, and don’t let anything go beyond this.
That message hit hard.
Deep inside, I felt ashamed. I promised myself to be more careful, to focus on my studies, and to never do anything that would make my parents feel disappointed or hurt again.
* * *
5.4 A Year of Quiet Distance and Loud Triumphs
Days moved on steadily. I buried myself in my studies and consciously restricted my thoughts about Rahul. I did run into him a few times during visits to Sandhya’s house, but our conversations never went beyond a polite hello. There was no special response from his side either. Slowly, I began convincing myself that that rainy evening was nothing more than a coincidence—a casual moment, not something meant to be taken seriously. If he wasn’t affected, why should I be?
Academically, the year ended on a high note. I completed my second year of degree with distinction, while Sandhya secured a first class. Our parents were happy with our results, but the real excitement in both families revolved around Ravi. His achievement became the first topic of conversation wherever they went—Ravi had secured admission into IIT Mumbai, Computer Science, and Satish had made it to IIT Chennai.
It truly became a year of accomplishments. Both families were filled with pride and joy, hosting a couple of gatherings to celebrate the milestones. Yet, without doubt, Ravi and Satish stole the spotlight at every occasion.
Soon after, Dad and Uncle completed all the formalities and personally helped Ravi and Satish settle into their respective campuses, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their lives—and quietly, in ours as well.
* * *
5.5 An Announcement Wrapped in Smiles
One evening, Uncle, Aunty, and Sandhya visited our house. The purpose of their visit was evident even before a word was spoken—their smiling faces carried the warmth of good news. Sensing something special, I stayed back in the hall, unwilling to miss whatever was about to be shared.
Soon enough, Uncle announced Sandhya’s engagement to Vamshi. The house instantly filled with joy and excitement. Mom and Aunty moved into the kitchen, celebrating in their own happy way, while I teased Sandhya until she escaped into my room, with me close behind. In the hall, Dad and Uncle settled into discussions about arrangements and other practical matters.
Things progressed quickly. Dates were finalized, though Vamshi couldn’t attend the engagement due to project commitments. Traditionally, engagements in our culture revolve around the families, but these days the groom’s involvement has grown significant—sometimes making the ceremony feel almost like half a wedding.
Vamshi’s parents presented Sandhya with a diamond necklace, stone bangles, a Kanchivaram saree, and an array of sweets. Vamshi himself sent her a beautiful diamond ring. Sandhya missed him deeply, yet she understood his situation with remarkable maturity, knowing he missed her just as much. Together, they truly seemed made for each other.
The engagement was held as an intimate family affair with only close relatives and friends, as plans were already underway to celebrate the wedding on a grand scale.
As always, Rahul was actively involved—managing much of the work and earning appreciation from everyone. I consciously kept my distance, spending most of my time with Sandhya while Rahul handled the external responsibilities.
Both of us were praised for our involvement, and even before the excitement of the engagement settled, responsibilities for the wedding were already being assigned. The engagement concluded smoothly, leaving everyone eagerly looking forward to the wedding—most of all, Sandhya and Vamshi.
* * *
5.6 When Joy Turns into Goodbye
The wedding dates were finalized soon after, thoughtfully planned for after the final exams. This way, Sandhya could complete her degree without interruption, and Vamshi managed to get a full month’s leave approved during the same period. Added to that, Ravi and Satish would be home for holidays, making it the most suitable—and joyful—time for everyone.
At home, strict instructions were laid down: no wedding discussions or involvement until the exams were over. With no room for argument, we turned our full attention to studies. Sandhya, unlike me, was not overly anxious—her future felt secure and clearly mapped out. Her conversations with Vamshi continued, though carefully and under limits. Mobile phones were not easily accessible, and internet use meant trips to internet centers. Most conversations happened through landlines, always within the earshot of elders.
Though Aunty and Uncle were comparatively relaxed, Sandhya still had to be mindful of her words and actions. Letters were never an option with Vamshi being in the US—otherwise, handwritten letters might have carried emotions more freely than monitored calls ever could.
The exams passed smoothly. I felt confident about my performance, while Sandhya’s only wish was to clear all papers and carry the title of a graduate into her married life.
Once exams ended, wedding preparations took over everything. I spent most of my time at Sandhya’s house; even my parents were there until late nights, returning home only to sleep. Rahul visited frequently, though his conversations were mostly with Uncle, focused on arrangements. Still, I couldn’t resist finding small reasons to step into the hall just to catch a glimpse of him. He remained normal—offering polite greetings and occasionally asking about the progress of wedding preparations.
Sandhya, sharp as ever, sensed my emotions and teased me now and then. I brushed it off and cleverly diverted the topic each time. She suspected something, but she never knew the truth—that my feelings were one-sided. I stayed careful, knowing how easily she could read between lines.
The days flew by like a dream—shopping, rituals, relatives, laughter, minor misunderstandings, compromises, endless food, and celebrations. Vamshi had planned everything meticulously, even arranging Sandhya’s visa so she could travel with him immediately after the wedding. Their honeymoon was planned in the US, made even more special by a Hawaii holiday package gifted by his office.
As the thought of Sandhya leaving for the US settled in, the atmosphere slowly changed. It felt like losing a part of myself—as if my heart was being taken far away. Accepting it wasn’t easy for her either, knowing how distant communication would become. My parents felt the same pain; they had always treated Sandhya as their own daughter.
Then came the day of farewell.
All the joy of the past weeks vanished in moments. Heavy hearts tried their best to stay strong for Sandhya. Aunty packed everything she possibly could, limited only by airline luggage restrictions—still, extra luggage fees were unavoidable.
The airport scene was overwhelming. Looking back, it feels strange, but that day I wasn’t aware of my actions. I broke down completely. My parents, Uncle, and Aunty struggled to calm me as curious eyes watched. Security had to step in gently, asking us to maintain decorum. Finally, Mom and Dad took me home early, while Uncle and Aunty stayed back until the flight departed.
The season of goodbyes didn’t end there.
Soon after, Ravi and Satish left for their colleges. It felt like a cyclone had passed through our lives—leaving behind only empty spaces. The house felt unfamiliar: Sandhya gone, college over, Ravi away, Dad at office, Mom busy with chores.
Only then did I realize how deeply lonely I had become after Sandhya’s wedding.
* * *
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