She stared at the reflection of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, black eyes, flamboyant attire, dull face.
She always stared at the arabesque design on the border of her mirror, finding it more stare-worthy than herself.
Today she stared at herself. Not comptemtuous, not sad. Just numb. She knew this was to happen any day now and it had. She had prepared herself enough to not shed any tears now. As much as her eyes brimmed full , she trapped her emotions inside, holding herself together.
She half expected her marriage to be fixed with some another rich Indian. Atleast then she wouldn't have had to leave her country, but yesterday when she heard Italians' forthcoming, she had nothing to say.
The mere idea of settling in a new place with complete strangers haunted her.
She was to leave her entire life to settle somewhere else, in a new country, in the soffocating house dwelling in the carefree country.
Her father hadn't told her a word about whom she was to marry. It was as if she was just a good to be transported in exchange of good relations.
Not that she ever expected him to convey whereabouts of what decisions he had made for her, she still felt betrayed. Her heart had sunk at the news. Of all she had at least wished to be in the same country she brought up in, the culture she had gotten used to.
All that her father had pushed down her senses was to do as he said and speak only when told to. Her duty was to make no eye contacts and slide ring into whoever's finger her father pointed at.
She would do just as he wished, finally relieving him off her responsibilities.
It were the moments like these when she remembered her mother. The same mother who had died too soon, unable to become the part of suffering that Tara had endured alone.
She slowly stood up from the wooden stool and adjusted her elegant green saari she was given to wear. She blinked back her tears uncertain of her future, reminiscing the ghostly open eyes of her mother when she had died in a gruesome murder.
Even in her lifelessness she had watched her little daughter with warmth, smiling as she took her last breathe, leaving the ten year old girl screaming and weeping.
She sharply inhaled, forcing the memories out of her system. Looking at herself for the last time, she left the sight of mirror.
With her head held high she walked out the room. Two maids waiting for her outside ushered their mistress to the stellar living room of their mansion.
As she heard the murmur of voices from the hallway her confidence crumbled, she wanted nothing but to get this all over with.
The fact that today was the day she'd meet her new prisoner was knocking her mind. She hoped with all her non-existent faith in god for him to be kind. She had to assume the worst ways he could impose on her to actually be practical with her upcoming future.
With each step nearer to hall, her hands started shaking, she tightly fisted her sweaty plams to constrain her visible shiver. And just like that she stood at the frame of their majestic living room. The conversations in room immediately ceased. She could feel dozens of stares looking at her traditional but simple attire. She didn't dare look up to meet the eyes of powerful men in the room.
"Aah come here darling" her father's voice penetrated the silence.
She hesitantly took steps in his direction, slightly adjusting her saari to make sure she walked acceptably right
With a quick motion to his left he gestured her to sit next to him.
"Meet my daughter, the only one I have" her father mused delightfully. She hated how he mentioned her as his property. He was looking forward to rather use her to gain alliance than-
"Name" a powerful voice reverberated in the tense silence.
She felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice on her head. She knew who spoke, his authoritative tone had confirmed that.
His single word had managed to shook her to the core. She knew she had to speak before the voice asked again. She already wished for him to be mute. She realised the voice alone could swirl her whole body like a cow in the tornado. She tried to speak, attempting to hide thr obvious stutter of her tone.