The boy sitting across from Wasuki in the mandap was not a grown man; he was just a little boy, about her own age. He wore an oversized kurta and a loose sehra that kept slipping over his eyes. Much like Wasuki, he appeared scared and confused. They stared at each other the way two strange children meet on a school playground.
When the priest tied their clothes together in the sacred knot (Gathbandhan), Wasuki thought they were simply being taken somewhere together. The boy looked at Wasuki nervously, and she paused her sobbing for a moment to look at him closely. She sensed that this boy, too, was on the verge of tears just like her. In that humble mandap, devoid of glitter or noise, two innocent lives were tied with a thread whose significance neither understood. They watched each other silently, wondering when this 'game' would end and when they could return to play with their friends.
The time for departure (Vidai) arrived, yet Wasuki still believed it was all a temporary play. As she was seated in a small decorated vehicle, she gripped her mother's hand tightly and asked through her sobs, "Ma, are we only going for a little while? Will I be back by evening to play with my friends?" Her mother broke down in tears, unable to answer, simply stroking her head to comfort her.
Wasuki couldn't understand why people were looking at her as if she would never return. She noticed the little boy sitting beside her, struggling to manage his oversized turban. As the vehicle started moving, Wasuki looked out of the window at the neem tree in her yard where she had spent her childhood. She thought it was just a long trip, unaware that the home she was leaving behind would henceforth only welcome her back as a 'guest.'
A profound sense of relief filled the hearts of Wasuki's parents. They had chosen this household after much deliberation. Their reasoning was clear: "The boy is an only child, so our daughter will never have to fight for her share." No property disputes, no messy family politics. All the land, the gold, and the prestige of this house were to belong solely to Wasuki. They felt they had placed their daughter in a secure fortress where no one could infringe upon her rights.
As Wasuki stood at the threshold of her new home, her mother-in-law looked at her with pride. She thought to herself, "This is the girl who will stand by our only son and fill this quiet house with life." From beneath her heavy veil, Wasuki stared at the intricate carvings of the large house. She had been told that all of this belonged to her. In her simple mind, she only understood that she now had a massive courtyard to play in. She had no idea that her parents hadn't just sent her into a 'marriage,' but had appointed her the sole mistress of an 'empire.'
In the silence of the night, that massive house felt like a labyrinth to Wasuki. The heavy safe in the corner of the room and the glittering jewelry inside were of no consequence to her. She peered out of the window, where the moonlight danced over the sand dunes. She remembered her parents' words: "You will be the queen there." But Wasuki didn't want to be a queen; she just wanted to hear her mother's lullaby.
Slowly, she pulled out her old, tattered doll from under the pillow—the one she had hidden and brought along. The future mistress of that vast empire, wearing heavy gold bangles, fell asleep clutching her doll to her chest. She had no idea that her destiny had already been decided; she simply smiled in her sleep, dreaming another incomplete fragment of her 'Wasuki Dream Life.'