A wedding and a funeral

He looked once more at the calendar that whipped with the wind. Numbers scattered around his head. What was the day today? He tried to remember through the haze. What was he doing now? He shook his head, trying to clear it and came up with nothing. Nothing made sense. This should not have happened. Destiny is a bitch. He smiled to himself. He must actually be happy. Today was the day. 

She couldn't do this. Looking at the scattered sarees, neatly arranged jewellery, she moved away to the window. A cool breeze was blowing and she stepped out on the balcony. He must be happy now, she thought. He would now be doing his Sunday chores. If she had been a little more brave, she would have held his hands by now. Destiny is a bitch. She smiled to herself. She must actually be happy. Today was the day. In a few hours from now, she would be marrying someone. The man whom she knew nothing about.

The road ahead glistened with mist as he tread on the solitary road. He loved it here. The chirping of birds, the gurgling brooks by the road side, the mist, sudden rains and crisp mountain air. She loved it here. She had always been his love. The nimble fingers, trembling lips, locks of jet black hair in waves around her ever-smiling heart shaped face. She was a temptress. He yearned to hold her. To pull her into his embrace. God! He loved her. With all his heart and his soul. His poor battered soul. He wanted to listen to her voice.

A last dash of blush, she was ready. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Tall, slender and languid, with her favorite maroon silk saree draped around her, she looked angelic. She traced her fingers on the mirror, along the contours of her face, trying to remember his features. They were more angular, weren't they? His dimples were the best. The way he reached out to her. His gentle perfume. Memories burst like a dam, flooding her with sensations that she could not comprehend. Would she love to hear his voice once? One last time? Her mother was skeptical when she begged her to see him once before the wedding. It was stuck down with a stern look. Incredulous. Her mother may hate him, very well, for reasons unknown to her. Yet, she couldn't ever forsake him. Could she? She couldn't even see him once? She gulped down her sorrow as always and walked away, tears brimming in her eyes.

She punched in his number on her mobile, her eyes darting towards the lock of her door. The shrill ringing of his phone filled her ears, as a lone tear started its way from the corner of her eye. 

He heard it. The ringing of his mobile. At last! His head seemed to clear as he skittered to his room. He had not received any call for a long time from her. He was yearning to listen to her sing song voice for a long long time. Was it her? She had promised to call him before the big day. Palms sweaty, he flicked the phone open and breathed out a Hello. "Papa!" was all he heard before falling down on the floor motionless. Somewhere, he heard the tinkling laugh of his angel. Her wavy hair around her angelic face bounced as she held him, rocked him to sleep. His daughter.