Smitten

By Seema Jha

Rosys island of dark and despondent existence is lit by her platonic love for Shiv. The gloom and sadness brought about by a rich, philanderer husband is a constant prick in her quest for a peaceful and harmonious wedding life. What ensues is confusion

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491890790

Seema Jha

Seema Jha is a prolific novelist who lives in Boston, Lincolnshire, UK with her husband and their son.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

S he was not very fair complexioned. That shouldn’t have been a problem but it was. She was an Indian and quite a few Indians happened to be what could perhaps be termed racist, worshipping the colour white. Her birth had not given her parents a lot of joy for they had wanted a son. But as she had begun to grow up, her parents had started loving her, adoring her to the extent that she had become the apple of their eye. Her face had expressive eyes, a straight nose and full lips.

The year she had turned eighteen, she had become beautiful, but only to those who saw beauty in a not very fair skin. She possessed delicacy and her shy expression and narrow waist served to enhance her appeal.

Rosy, for that was her name, was hardworking but in the kitchen rather than in the classroom. It had surprised everyone when a bridegroom had been found for her at eighteen and not just any man, but one who was from a royal family, in fact, he was a prince, or would have been if the titles hadn’t been taken much before his time. One of the buildings of the palace more or less belonged to him. He was good-looking and Rosy’s mother Sushila couldn’t believe her luck. Her friends were secretly jealous, although they were careful enough not to show it.

As Sushila arranged Rosy’s long hair in a single plait and adorned it with a gajra, she felt good. She must have done some good deeds in her past life for this reward to have been given her. She had always thought that Rosy would be unable to get a partner in their own caste, and even if she eventually did, it would have to be someone with a very modest income. Rosy had fallen in love with a football player of a different caste and Sushila had been seriously afraid that her daughter would elope with him bringing shame to the family. The football player, Shiv, had been not bad to look at and Sushila had been surprised that he fancied Rosy for she herself considered Rosy ordinary. She had also been furious at the fact that Rosy had had the gall to declare her love to her. Shiv had written a long letter to Rosy expressing his passion and his desire to make her his. Sushila strongly suspected that her cousin sister, Dolly, had had a hand in this entire matter for it was she who had introduced Shiv to Rosy. Dolly had always been jealous of the fact that Sushila had had an untarnished reputation. Dolly’s own past had been tainted by the discovery of a love-letter she had written to a man just before her marriage and perhaps she wanted to mar the good name Sushila had made for herself.

Rosy looked at her reflection in the mirror. It was her father-in-law who had selected her, though perhaps selected was not the right word. Her husband or to be precise her would be husband had not seen her in person. All he had seen was a photograph of hers and had given her a clean chit as her father-in-law had put it. It was true that her nature was to all outward appearances, perhaps docile and meek and maybe that had appealed to her father-in-law. She could not deny that she was sans glamour and homely and maybe those were the things her father-in-law had been seeking in his future daughter-in-law. She had been attired in a simple light blue cotton sari, her hair in a single plait and one blue bangle on each wrist. She had answered his questions gently and he had given his consent, offering them a packet of sweets instead of any jewellery. Her mother had been overjoyed scarcely believing her luck and for days had been almost in a daze smiling serenely at anyone and everyone unable to conceal the happiness she felt.

Rosy herself had felt sad and happy at the same time. Sad because she had loved Shiv, still did. Happy because her parents were delighted. She had become wary of the constant rejections from men who had wanted a wife with an extremely fair complexion. Shiv’s interest in her had made her feel desirable. The fact that he was good-looking had made her feel that she must be good-looking too, for a man such as he was, to fancy her. He had had no dearth of admirers, girls bent over backwards just to catch a glimpse of him but it was she he had chosen to bestow his love upon. How wonderful Shiv was, Rosy thought as Mom put a gold necklace around her neck. Next came the earrings. A jewel was put in the middle parting of her hair and the round base of it glittered gently on her forehead. She was already wearing lots of bangles but two gold bangles were added one to each wrist. A nose ring was added to the list of jewellery. Jewellery was put on the back of her hands and fingers apart from the gold rings that adorned her fingers. Around her waist another gold ornament. A silver anklet and silver toe-rings followed. Her palms had been decorated with a design in henna and Rosy couldn’t help feeling more or less like a jewellery shop. She was secretly pleased as well for this was the first time in her life she was wearing so much gold. And although a part of her brain thought of Shiv and of the love she had lost, another part was excited by all the attention.

Rosy’s eyes, which had had the recent benefit of mascara, eye-shadow and kohl stared back at her revealing none of the emotions she was feeling. They gave nothing away, the passion of a teenager for the man of her dreams, the slight anxiety of being perhaps on the threshold of life about to take a step into matrimony, the reluctantly accepted, yet undeniable relief at having been considered marriage material. Coupled with all this was the awe she felt at soon to be married into such a good family. She was aware that the jewellery that her Dad had bought for her had taken care of his last savings leaving not much else besides. The wedding ceremony was expensive enough as it was and being of modest means, Rosy’s Dad was struggling financially but managing somehow, telling himself that once it was all done, he could relax, the responsibility he considered Rosy, off his tired shoulders once and for all.

Have you all had cold drinks? she asked her friends, half sitting and half lying on the red silk bed sheet. She put a pillow behind her back. All her pals had dressed in their finest attire and not one of them was married. They seemed terribly excited even though it was she who was being married. But that made sense in a way. She had enjoyed all her cousins’ weddings but at her own, she felt slightly nervous although when the only French lady in the neighbourhood married to an Indian man, asked if she was, she had replied in the negative, unwilling to accept her fears or rather to admit that she was anxious.

She couldn’t help thinking of the two lovely nighties that had been bought for her apart from other things. One was a lovely pale green with a frilly sort of design and the other was similar but in a light pink. They were the sort that could make any girl look gorgeous. Ordinarily she was bought sleeping suits which had no beauty in them whatsoever. They served a purpose, provided comfort but beyond that, they did nothing. Not too thrilled about the numerous sparkling saris she was being given by Mom and Dad, she found herself thinking about the three lovely plain chiffon saris, one in dark green, one in pink and the third in a dark blue.

"I can’t alter my opinion that you should have married for love. I would never do what you have done, accepted your parent’s demands rather than opt for what you want. Don’t get me wrong, I wish you happiness, a great