My daughter was getting married. While shopping for a couple of nail polishes to match the clothes I was going to wear, I came across a new kind of hairspray. It squirted colorful stars into the hair. Though it was costly, but was a must have, so I bought it.
Marriage functions are a three days affair — Mehndi, marriage ceremony that is Shadi and Walima. The first two functions are held by the girl’s parents, and Walima is by the boy’s parents.
I never got to use my hairspray. We had guests staying at our home, who had come to attend the marriage ceremony. Who tried my hairspray? I found it empty on my dressing table. Someone tried it, and left it oozing out. Must have pressed it too much.
I remember those three days being extremely tired by the festivities. I missed my daughter, realizing that her days with us were over, and she belonged to someone else now. After the marriage ceremony, when we came back I started sobbing the minute we entered our home. My sis in law Z tried to console me, and told me not to cry, but to pray to God for my daughter’s happiness in her new life.
The first few months without my daughter were difficult to bear. She had been my constant companion, since her birth, and never been away from me for a single day. When she was home she would be dogging my footsteps. She was my baby. My late husband being wise cautioned me not to divulge my grief to her, so that she won’t feel burdened. Gradually I became used to living without her with us.
In her marriage video when her in laws are taking her away, my head dips down, and I start crying. It’s really strange but when that part is replayed I always get tears in my eyes even after so many years.
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