She was wearing the blue and silver frock gifted from her father, the one that made her feel like a Princess. She sat crossed legged in front of the long length mirror in her room, cradling a small pouch on her lap. She looked up at her reflection and traced her finger down her chest, admiring each sequin and embroidered swirl. Her toy tiger sat closely to her. She opened the pouch and reaching inside she felt the familiar silver sweet wrapper and gently twirled it in her fingers to release the lingering scent of chocolate. Again she reached in and pulled out a penny she had found under a rug a long time ago. She held it up to her eye to see the roaring tiger watch her. Once again she reached in and rummaged through her treasures, her fingers felt an unfamiliar object and she frowned puzzlingly. Pulling it out she discovered a single pearl earring, she gasped, it dropped through her little fingers and her mind went back to when she had first met her.
She had arrived to the tower on a night tasting of jasmine, hidden behind the Chuni her face was a mystery. Blood red rubies and golden strings adorned her bridal Lenga, mehndi patterns painted on her palms peered through her glass Chura, resting gently on her wrists. Her veil was lifted to reveal a beautiful face, with milky skin and charcoal hair cascading down her back like an endless waterfall. She had nut brown eyes painted with Kajal so sharp it could cut. The child was mesmerised unable to tear away her gaze. Her beauty and aura surrounded her and drew her in.
The bride had married the girl’s uncle less than a month ago and on the child’s first meeting she had fallen in love with the bride. For what reason the child did not know. It was, only her face, only her kindness, not a name, not a voice. When the bride smiled down at her, the child felt happy. The bride would tease the child, taking her tiger cub holding it far above her reach, the child would laugh and hug her slender waist till the meowing cub was released. Echoing words of harsh bluntness would escape the bride’s mouth to her uncle; arrows would shoot back.
Every morning before school the child would wonder into the bride’s bedroom. Orange garlands hung round the marriage bed where the bride laid across the maroon sheets and golden pillows. She turned her head and her pearls glistened, smiling fondly at the child. The child grinned back and climbed onto the bed holding a small brown pouch. The bride wrapped her arm round the girl’s tiny waist bringing her close and peered over at the pouch with a quizzical look. The child crossed her legs and pulled out a penny she had found under a rug that morning, she held it up to her eye and examined its pattern; a roaring bronze tiger. She smiled. She passed it up to the Bride who took it carefully pondering over it. The child giggled and reached into her pouch again, this time pulling out a silver sweet wrapper, she enjoyed its crackle and remembered the taste of the chocolate. She reached up placing it under the bride’s nose and asked her to smell it. The bride gasped and lightly sniffed, laughing when she smelt the chocolate too. The world felt obliged to stop for their moments, moments it felt they would never end until one day the Bride disappeared.
Garlands were gone, the tiger cub sat alone on the bed, it did not purr. The child touched the cub, its fur was cotton and his eyes were plastic. The child searched for the bride, she was nowhere to be found. The child did not ask, her uncle did not tell, but the child did not cry, she did not pry. The bride had gone for reasons unknown and no one remembered her. Her mother and father made mention of a name, the name the child would never recognise. The child understood times had gone sour, the bride had left the tower without saying goodbye and the child never asked why.
The memory was found once again in the pearl earring. Hesitantly the child held it in her hand, closed her eyes and wondered why, before placing it back in the pouch.