On the night before her wedding, She caught a timid knocking on her door. It was Anuradha's son. He asked her innocently "Where... are you ..going ?" She replied " I am just going to Worthington House. You can come to my House any time you like my tiddy-bitty. You will adore it. It's got thirty-six bedrooms, and I could easily find a place for you."
"But just why'd you want to live in a house with... with.. thirty-six bedrooms? Do you really like Percieval ?"
"Percieval ? What does he have to do with My marriage ? My dear baby, one thing I never told you is people tear. Did I ever tell you that ? We break and tear. Like cloth and furniture and everything in between." Her voice was a curious blend of reverie and disdain."Awful truth is, we are in this alone. And there is no help coming. Of course I dont have any answers. But getting someplace with thirty-six bedrooms to hide in is definitely the way to bet. Isn't it ?"
Next morning, She got up and announced "Ok, world - here I come!" . Soon it was time.
Guests were now waiting for her to step out of her bedroom door and walk down the stairs and to her place: alongside Percieval Worthington.
She threw open her door., picked up the ends of her sari, went out to the landing and down the stairwell. Instantly a conspicuous hush swept over the proceedings.She looked illuminating. The pallo of her rouge red sari was brought over her head, and its delicate gold tasselled hem fringed her forehead: you could only half see her face.While she was walking, some three hundred plus guests were gazing at her, and an unnamed part of herself begged for him. Not for either consolation or attention but an acre of their simple understanding in which she might throw back her head and laugh like a witch at the gall of her own affectations. Perhaps he was the ony one who understood her act enough to accept it. A shared code. His blue eyes, to swim in, to never rise out of.
When she sat next to Percieval and pandit asked for her hand. She looked at him. Why he looked so much like her father. She knew her father is here, the same Hand to knock her down.She frantically yanks back her hand with a gasp everyone hears.
Seconds later, a frothy faced, angry lipped, famished Fit of epilepsy sits up inside her and rattles her from her soles all the way up to her skull, causing her to foam at the mouth and howl like a rabid beast. She shudders violently, and understands this is the inexorable moment when Fate has chosen to fold in its wings and roost in her, to never leave, and to assure her that no matter what you do, how high you fly, how low you drop, what magic you pull off, the truth of the matter is: you are never safe.
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