Tara (8 years old) 

It was a day of joy. Everyone was busy with preparations—running around, decorating the house, cooking delicious food. Ma and Baba were also happy. And I? I was the happiest of them all.

I was wearing a brand-new dress, vibrant and colorful, adorned with intricate embroidery. Ma had even let me wear jewelry—small golden bangles that jingled with every movement and tiny earrings that made me feel like a princess. The best part? She had put a bindi on my forehead, something she never let me wear on normal days.

And she made my favorite kheer!

As I sat in front of the mirror, Ma and Maasi fussed over my hair, braiding it neatly. I watched them with curious eyes and finally asked, "Ma, aaj kya hai? Sab itni tayaari kyu kar rahe hain? Aur itne saare mehmaan bhi aaye hain. Koi utsav hai kya?" (Ma, what's happening today? Why is everyone making so many preparations? And why are there so many guests? Is there a festival?)

Hearing my innocent question, Ma and Maasi exchanged a small smile. Ma then kneeled to match my height, cupping my face in her hands lovingly.

"Ladoo, aaj ka din kisi utsav se kam thodi hai. Aaj tu apne ghar ki ho jaayegi." (Ladoo, today is no less than a festival. Today, you will become part of your home.)

Her words confused me. I frowned slightly. "Ma, main toh apne ghar par hi hoon." (But Ma, I am already at home.)

But Ma just smiled sadly and continued, "Nahi Ladoo, tera ghar yeh nahi hai. Aaj teri shaadi hai. Iske baad tere pati ka ghar hi tera ghar hoga." (No, Ladoo. This is not your home. Today is your wedding. After this, your husband's house will be your real home.)

At the mention of shaadi (wedding), my face lit up with excitement. I clapped my hands together. "Shaadi? Matlab mera dulha aayega? Jaise meri gudiya ka hai?" (A wedding? That means my groom will come? Just like my doll has a groom?)

Ma nodded gently. "Haan, jise teri gudiya ka dulha hota hai, waise hi tera bhi dulha hai. Aaj teri uske saath shaadi hai. Aur uske baad tu sach mein apne ghar ki ho jaayegi." (Yes, just like your doll has a groom, you have one too. Today, you will marry him, and after that, you will truly belong to your home.)

I noticed Ma's eyes glistening with unshed tears. I hugged her tightly and said, "Ma, tum ro kyun rahi ho? Dekho na, ab mera dulha hai! Matlab main roz uske saath kheli sakti hoon, hai na?" (Ma, why are you crying? Look, I have a groom now! That means I can play with him every day, right?)

Then, an important question popped into my head. "Par Ma, mera dulha kaun hai? Woh kahan hai? Kab aayega?" (But Ma, who is my groom? Where is he? When will he come?)

Ma softly answered, "Tera dulha Karan hai. Woh abhi thodi der mein baaraat lekar aayega." (Your groom is Karan. He will be here soon with the wedding procession.)

Hearing the name, I gasped. "Karan?!"

Before I could say anything more, Ma lightly tapped my forehead. "Chup pagli, naam nahi lete." (Silly girl, you must not say his name.)

I pouted. "Par kyun, Ma?" (But why, Ma?)

She simply smiled and said, "Kyunki woh tera hone wala pati hai. Patni apne pati ka naam nahi leti, samjhi?" (Because he is your future husband. A wife doesn't take her husband's name, understand?)

Karan was Siya's elder brother. He was two years older than me. I was eight, and he was ten. He was always kind and played with us whenever we asked him to. I liked him.

—

Time moved forward, and I now found myself sitting in the mandap (wedding altar), dressed in red, beside Karan. The rituals were happening around us. He placed a black chain around my neck—just like the one Ma wore—and then he was told to apply sindoor (vermillion) on my forehead. The priest chanted mantras, and soon we were asked to take seven rounds around the sacred fire.

With each round, I tried to understand what was happening, but all I knew was that after this, Ma said I would be going to my 'real' home.

Finally, the priest declared, "Vivah sampann hua." (The marriage is complete.)

I looked at Ma and Baba. Their eyes were filled with tears, but their faces were smiling. They were happy.

More rituals followed, and then it was time for my vidaai (farewell). I was placed inside a decorated baggi (horse-drawn carriage). That's when reality hit me. I was going away from my Ma and Baba. The thought terrified me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I knew it, I was crying uncontrollably.

Ma immediately came to my side and wiped my tears. "Ladoo, ro mat. Sirf aaj ke liye ja rahi hai. Parso tujhe wapas le aayenge tere roka ke liye." (Ladoo, don't cry. You are only going today. The day after tomorrow, we will bring you back for your roka.)

Through my sniffles, I asked, "Ma, roka kya hota hai?" (Ma, what is roka?)

She gently stroked my hair and said, "Abhi tu bahut chhoti hai na, isliye tu humare saath rahegi jab tak badi nahi ho jaati. Uske baad hamesha hamesha ke liye apne sasural chali jayegi. Samjhi?" (You are still very young, so you will stay with us until you grow up. After that, you will go to your in-laws' house forever. Understand?)

I didn't fully understand what she meant, but knowing that I would still get to live with my parents for now made me feel better. I wiped my tears and nodded.

As the baggi started moving, I looked back at Ma, Baba, and my home. My heart felt heavy.

Even though I didn't understand everything, I knew one thing—something had changed today. And it would never be the same again.