..... •The marriage• The rain drops were splatter |

..... •The marriage• The rain drops were splattering against the window pane. The clouds played with pane with rain splashing colourfully just like the love playing inside the walls of her heart. As the love touched its wall she entered into another world. A heavenly world. An aquiver and lorn emotional blood alcove and gust out with a surging flow with a benthic bed where she found a paper not wet. But it had wetness of ink written with the quill of love and the paper was crumpled with the wrinkles of pain in love. She was a damsel with a less melanin on her face and with thousands of blonde hairs. And she left that paper inside the diary. The next day a man with a bowl of black dye in his hands went to her room. He opened the drawer and picked the brush to paint his grey hairs. His face was traced onto the silver paper but it was a different world. He washed the brush and went to her room to put it in its proper place. He found some papers with a paint of a boy and a letter wet with love. She returned home and a shrill noise pierced her heart with its print printing on her face with red hue. Now she was caged in the room with four walls which weren't four and a room which was for a showcase and not for the freshness to come in. And the same evening, some guest came at her home which didn't make her feel home. She scratched them when she meet them in her mere bad reverie. Without her sign on the paper of deal she was going to walk and run the life of knot tied with hers. The deal included the damsel and a car and some gold and nothing in return. A pure deal. But the dye which he used to paint his hairs remained as it is and hence damaged his hairs. And made them grey and wither quickly just like the flower.

..... •The marriage• The rain drops were splatter

Ashu