In the blink of a memory

Rain splashed against the windshield of my metallic green car, making it even harder to navigate the winding road ahead. The fog was already thick, obscuring my view, but I pressed on, driving the serpentine route toward the venue deep in the countryside, about 45 minutes from home.

Despite my initial reluctance to attend the wedding, here I was, decked out in an embroidered jumpsuit for my friend Girisha’s sister’s reception. As the windshield wipers swept violently from side to side, I began rethinking my decision. I barely knew anyone at the wedding, except for a few high school friends I hadn’t seen in nearly five years. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I found myself gnawing at my bottom lip. What would I even talk to them about?

My life is so different from what I had imagined and planned—and very different from my friends’. The big dreams we once shared didn’t materialize, and though I’m happy with where I am professionally, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve fallen short of the expectations my friends might have had for me. How do I even begin to explain my failure in pursuing any romantic relationships at the age of 28?

Personal growth has been my major focus over the past few years. Hiking, painting, gardening—I’ve engaged in a plethora of hobbies to mask the loneliness. Yet tonight, it seems like I’m about to receive the reality check I’ve been hiding from. Most of my friends are either happily married, in committed relationships, or actively pursuing one, while I feel insecure about being single. It’s been over five years since my last relationship ended, and the loneliness has only grown, along with my hyper independence.

“In 200 meters, at the roundabout, take the first exit,” the navigation app on my phone startled me, breaking me out of my thoughts. As my eyes tried to adjust to the surroundings, the blinding lights of an oncoming vehicle made me realize that the sun had already set. I was now driving without my headlights on, down a dark road devoid of street lights, with trees aligned ominously on each side. There wasn’t a soul on the road, aside from the vehicle that had just passed me. My stomach rumbled loudly—was it from hunger or from the fear of being left behind while my friends thrived? After the roundabout, the roads were desolate, and all I could see was black. I slowed the car to 40 km/h and started to feel an eerie chill, even with the AC turned off.

Within ten minutes, the rain became sparse, and soon I saw a warm glow of lights in the distance. Relief washed over me as the navigation app confirmed that I was approaching the venue. A few moments later, I found the entrance on my right, beautifully decorated with yellow lights that twinkled in the dark. The building, perched gracefully on an elevated plain, sparkled with a welcoming shimmer. Although the parking lot was nearly full, I was relieved to find a few open spaces. Thankfully, the stream of arriving cars was sparse, so I managed to park with ease. As I turned off the ignition, I slipped off my slippers and carefully put on the black stilettos I had chosen for the evening. Excitement and anticipation began to replace my earlier anxiety.

I draped my cozy shawl around my shoulders for warmth and grabbed the mauve-colored clutch with sequins that perfectly complemented my jumpsuit. Stepping out of the car, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the rain had stopped and the cold wasn’t as biting as I’d feared. I walked carefully over the gravel, taking my time to avoid slipping, and felt my initial anxiety begin to fade.

A wooden path stretched from the parking area to a stunning fountain, which led to the entrance of the venue. I paused at the beginning of the path, mesmerized by the fountain’s beauty. Just as I took my first step toward it, a voice cut through the quiet night. “Everyone, the bride and groom are arriving. Kindly step aside and make way for them, please.”

I instinctively stepped back, only to realize too late that I was at the edge of the path. My right foot met only air as I teetered dangerously close to falling. “Hey, careful!” a voice called out, and an arm reached out to steady me. I grasped it firmly, like Rose clutching Jack in Titanic.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, fuck,” I gasped, gripping the stranger’s arm tightly.

“Whew, thank you so much,” I managed, looking up at him.

“No worries. Are you alright?” he asked, a concerned frown creasing his forehead.

He was striking—about 5 feet 8 inches tall, with glasses and a strong build, clad in a dark navy suit that fit him perfectly. It took me a moment to process his question. “Yes, yes, thank you so much,” I said, still a bit shaken.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a reassuring smile.

Before I could respond further, a woman in a stunning fuchsia sari joined him. “Hey Aarav, shall we go?”

With a trail of musky perfume, Aarav walked toward the bride and groom, who were now making their grand entrance. I watched, captivated by his presence. As the wedding party took their places, I took my time, snapping photos and soaking in the atmosphere.

At the entrance, I greeted Girisha’s parents warmly and dropped my gift into the box provided. Girisha’s mom, whom I affectionately call Aunty Sheela, greeted me with a broad smile and a heartfelt hug. I was touched that she remembered me from our high school days. Back then, I used to walk home with Girisha, and Aunty Sheela would often give me homemade snacks—bhajias, French crepes, and milkshakes that filled me with comfort and nostalgia.

As I reminisced about those fond memories, Aunty Sheela guided me to one of the round tables where I was assigned to sit. I smiled politely at the four people seated at the ten-seater and left a seat empty between me and the other guests. As I swept my gaze around the room, I could identify a few of my friends with their spouses and children, seated at different tables. The bride, looking divine, sat on a red, regal, throne-like chair next to her husband in a similar chair on the platform. The platform was decorated with flowers and fairy lights. Around the room, all the tables were round, except for the newlyweds' table, which was rectangular, with seats for the bride and groom and their close ones. I almost felt dizzy. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt chilly. When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly at some friends I recognised at nearby tables. Some smiled politely, others waved and mouthed, “Hello, how are you? All good?” I responded by mouthing an answer back.

Girisha spotted me from one of the tables, and the relief I felt was indescribable. She waved me over, and I hurried to her. She engulfed me in a warm hug, and I screamed with joy internally, grinning from ear to ear.

“Kreeti, I’m so happy you came! How are you? Did you meet my mom? We were just talking about you the other day. Remember our long walks from school, and the day we were scared by the stray dogs?” Girisha babbled, as was her usual self.

Her joy was infectious, and as I started talking to her, all my worries from the drive disappeared.

“Yes, I met her. I could not believe she remembered me, and it was so nostalgic. By the way, your sister looks beautiful, as do you.”

Girisha and I continued talking, and soon we were joined by some of our high school friends.

Seeing Anna, one of my closest friends from high school, reminded me of the plans we had made back then.

“Hey Anna, it looks like your plan worked out—career by 25 and married by 28?” I said.

“It’s not as perfect as it sounds,” she replied. “It just seems perfect. It’s a lot of hard work. The ideal image is only 5% of the time; the rest is just ongoing effort. I almost envy you. Look at you—single, beautiful, and successful.”

“Wow, that’s quite a compliment,” I said. “But honestly, I was dreading coming here today because of my single status. It’s not by choice. Dating is so difficult these days.”

I had forgotten how kind and empathetic Anna was. It was refreshing to see things from a different perspective. As we continued talking, I began to feel more at ease.

“Girisha, have you met Natasha?” asked a familiar voice behind me.

As I turned around to see who it was, I collided with the person.

“You again! How many times do I have to save you in one night?” Aarav said in a teasing voice.

“Oops, sorry. It seems we are destined to meet like this,” I laughed.

“Have you guys met before?” Girisha asked curiously.

“Long story,” I said, trying not to relive the embarrassment, while Aarav simultaneously began recounting my earlier mishap. A mix of horror and amusement reverberated through Girisha and our friends as they all laughed at my near-fall.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat.

“Aarav, won’t you introduce me?” The elegant lady in the fuchsia sari spoke softly but with an edge of demand.

Natasha was Aarav’s friend and a friend of the groom as well. Natasha seemed a bit annoyed at the way Aarav introduced her, as if she were more than just a friend.

“I am a very close friend of Raj. His parents and mine are very close friends. It seems an odd choice to hold the reception here when they can afford so much better”, Natash told on acerbically.

“Dear Guests, please take your seats as we start with the entertainment for tonight,” the emcee’s message resonated from the speakers.

“Oh God, I need to go prepare. Take your seats and have fun. There will be plenty of food and drinks, so do enjoy,” Girisha said as she distanced herself from us.

With all the seats at my friends' tables taken, I returned to my assigned spot, surprised when Natasha and Aarav joined me. As with any Indian wedding reception, the evening kicked off with performances from both the bride's and groom's sides. Aunties, uncles, and kids took turns dancing, filling the room with lively energy.

Waiters brought out appetizers and drinks as the performances continued. Since I was driving, I limited myself to one beer, but even that, along with the festive atmosphere, brought out my extroverted side. I found myself humming and swaying to the Bollywood songs. As I sang along to both the latest hits like "Saami Saami" and classic tunes like "Lag Jaa Gale," I could feel Aarav’s gaze on me.

At first, I avoided looking at him, but after a while, the drink gave me the courage to meet his eyes. There was admiration, curiosity, and something else I couldn't quite place. "Wow, you really know your songs, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Bollywood girl," he said, flirting. I responded with a cheesy line, and he seemed captivated, though Natasha looked irritated.

When the entertainment concluded, we were invited to the buffet. Aarav and I kept talking as we lined up for food, but Natasha continued to complain about everything—the noise, the oily food, and the songs that she deemed "not classy enough."

As the bride and groom took the floor for their first dance to Ed Sheeran's "Perfect," I was so absorbed in the moment that I nearly missed Aarav and Natasha arguing beside me.

“I thought Anu would have a classy reception. After all, she’s marrying a reputable lawyer.”

“Natasha, can you please stop? You’ve done nothing but complain since we arrived.”

Their voices faded as the DJ switched to a more upbeat track, inviting everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor. The room seemed to spin around me, the once-vivid disco lights now blurring into a dizzying whirl. A strange beeping sound echoed in the background, growing louder and more insistent. I blinked, trying to shake off the disorientation, but the sensation remained, leaving me uneasy.

Aarav and Natasha seemed to have stopped arguing. Natasha still looked upset, and though I was tempted to ask what was going on, I held back.

“Hey Aarav, Natasha, come dance!” I called out.

“No, thanks. Dancing to this music is overrated. I expected a more sophisticated wedding,” Natasha replied.

“I’ll be at the bar. Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“I’m staying until the party ends. I can arrange for you to leave early if you want.”

“Never mind. I’ll book a taxi.”

“As you wish,” Aarav said, turning back to me as Natasha walked away. I pretended not to have heard their conversation, even though I’d been listening closely.

“Shall we dance?” Aarav asked.

“Yes!” I replied enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor. To my surprise, he was an incredible dancer. We moved in perfect sync, and his competitive spirit made it all the more fun. We danced until our feet were sore, the night ending with a slow dance. As we finally slowed down, I rested my forehead against his chest, my right hand on his heart, listening to his steady breathing.

He murmured, “Would you like to take a stroll outside?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his, seeing something in his brown eyes that I couldn’t quite decipher. Nodding in agreement, I took his warm hand in mine, and we discreetly left the dance floor.

Outside, we walked slowly, enveloped in silence, with only the soft hum of music and the gentle swish of water from the fountain accompanying us. As I looked up at him, a flickering lamp caught my eye, and suddenly, everything blurred. My head grew heavy, and nausea swept over me. I tried to reach out to Aarav, but my arms wouldn’t respond. The last thing I heard was a loud buzzing and distant voices before everything went black.

When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself in a cold room that smelled of antiseptic, surrounded by machines. I tried to lift myself up but felt sharp pain throughout my body. I heard a hoarse cry and soon realized it was me. I attempted to clear my throat, but my voice sounded unfamiliar. “Help! Where am I?” I desperately cried out, trying to free myself from whatever was constraining me, but the pain only intensified.

I forced myself to fall asleep, hoping it was just a nightmare. Unfortunately, a door opened, and a nurse entered the room.

I had been in a coma for two days. A lorry, speeding at 100 km/h, had lost control and crashed into my car. The driver was unscathed, but I was severely injured, requiring hours of surgery.

It took a couple of days to piece together what had happened—and what had never happened. I never reached the wedding. I never met Aarav. I never had that special connection. It was all just a dream.

It would take me more than two months to recover physically, and even longer to heal emotionally.