"Do you love me?"
Why did I ask him that? I don't know.
It's going to be a year since our contract started. Tomorrow, when the month of Chaitra (March) begins, I would have spent a significant portion of my life with him.
We got engaged tomorrow last year, and it will be the day when everything is going to be decided.
A lot has changed since that day last year.
I came to Mumbai, the city of dreams, met many people—both good and bad—and started writing this diary.
All because of his strange conditions for marriage.
I lived in my small, isolated village in Uttarakhand, still bound by traditional values.
My father was looking for someone to marry his daughter, who was considered an eyesore to most of the villagers simply because she had dull brown skin.
It's funny, isn't it? In a land where even the gods are depicted as dark, people still consider dark skin inferior.
My father had trouble finding someone who would accept a girl with brown skin.
I was always at the centre of constant jibes from my mother and the other women. A grim child, over 20, still not married, sitting at home and being a burden.
Girls are considered a burden to their parents to begin with. Those thoughts from back then seem so foolish now.
Every day, I used to blame myself for everything—my skin, my gender, my existence—thinking I was troubling my father. I hated everything about this girl named Usha.
At that time, my family felt like my worst enemy, but nowadays, I understand that my father is a good man. He never said anything about my skin colour, but he never had the courage to stand against society, even for his own daughter.
His eyes always had a look of disappointment. I always thought it was directed at me, but I think it wasn't just about me.
"We'll probably need to find someone older so he'll marry Usha, even with the dowry. If only she were fair like me, and not like you,"
That's what my mother thought. I never had any expectations for my future husband, considering how I thought of myself back then. And then the day arrived when everything changed.
One day, my father came with news:
"I spoke to my captain from the army, and he's ready to discuss marriage between his grandson and Usha."
He had an expression of relief, as though a burden had been lifted, as he showed me photos of the grandson of his old friend. My mother was shocked.
"His name is Anirudh. He has a well-off job in Mumbai, doesn't drink or smoke, and, most importantly, he has no problem marrying any girl."
He handed me another photo. It was of a handsome, well-built man with fair, bright skin and smooth, jet-black hair, with bangs covering his forehead.
He would be adored by the girls in the village, but to me, he was just someone who would probably reject me.
"Prepare yourself. Make sure you don't look as gloomy as you do. If this opportunity slips away…"
It was a threat from my mother, and I understood it. So I prepared for the day, following everything she told me to do, no matter how much I hated it—just to lighten my skin tone.
The day we reached the town where Anirudh's family lived, I felt a strange sense of relief. It was a calm, small town, nothing special, but it wasn't as suffocating as my village.
We were greeted by a young woman who introduced herself as Anirudh's younger sister. She was smiling all the way home.
The family had an air of nobility. They didn't seem that different from my own family, except that everyone in their household held their head high, regardless of age or gender—unlike mine.
The discussions between the families didn't concern me, as I had no objection to the marriage.
My mother probably mentioned my ability to do housework, while looking at me, as if searching for any other qualities.
Anirudh was looking at me the whole time, while also listening to my parents. His eyes had a look of disappointment. Was it directed at me?
"I would like to talk to Usha in private about something,"
He looked at me with a smile, strangely enough, waiting for my reply.
I glanced at my parents, who just nodded.
"Say, do you not want to marry me?"
Anirudh asked as we entered the balcony, looking over the river, and he closed the door behind him.
I was too surprised to answer, just looking at his face, thinking, *Why does my opinion matter?*
"You see, back there, you seemed uninterested in everything. So I thought maybe you didn't want to marry and had someone you loved."
"No, I don't have anyone like that."
I blurted out loudly. He looked at me with doubt as I contemplated what to say next.
"You see, I was never allowed to go outside much, and even if I was allowed, which guy would want a girl like me?"
"Why wouldn't they?"
What?
Anirudh looked at me, straight in the eye, with surprise—as if I'd said something ridiculous.
"You're beautiful, your voice is calming, and you look well-behaved. Isn't that ideal for most boys around here?"
"That's not true. Plus, I'm not as fair and bright as you."
I didn't meet his eyes, but I could feel that he didn't like what I had said.
"Usha (dawn) is beautiful, even if it isn't bright."
What? Why?
This was the first time in my life that someone not only *didn't* insult me for my dark skin, but also called me beautiful despite it.
"Say, Usha, did you ever want to become something? Like, say, a doctor or a lawyer?"
"No, I was never allowed to pursue higher studies. I only completed my 12th. After all, a girl is supposed to stay in the house."
"I see."
He gazed at the river for some time, his face showing that he was deep in thought.
"I've decided."
What happened next was the weirdest thing ever. He stood in front of my father, looking him in the eye with confidence, and smiled.
"I'll accept the engagement with Usha, but I want her to live with me in Mumbai for a year. After that, if she still wants to marry me, I'll happily marry her."
Everyone there was shocked by this sudden condition he imposed.
"If you don't agree to my condition, I'm afraid this marriage can't happen."
My father was at a loss for words, but his eyes showed he wanted this marriage to happen.
"I don't have any problem," Anirudh's grandfather said, looking proudly at him, as if he knew exactly what was going on.
"Me neither," his mother chimed in, with a confident tone, clearly showing her trust in her son.
"If these two have no problem, neither do I," said his father, looking at me and my father, waiting for an answer.
It was clear that my father was under pressure, but he was relieved that the whole marriage depended on me saying yes. So, he gave in.
And so, Anirudh and I got engaged and soon left for Mumbai, the Mayanagari, the city of dreams.
At first, I was always afraid and unsure of everything. The city was so different from my small village. I felt like a fish out of water. It was as if I didn't fit into this land, surrounded by so many shining gems of people that a lump of coal like me would stick out like a sore thumb.
But with time, I learned a lot—how people lived, no matter who they were, how to enjoy festivals I'd celebrated countless times before, why I'm inferior to none because of who I am, how to be proud, how to speak up.
But most importantly, I learned about love and friendship. Many people I've met are special to me, but one person has become the most special of all.
The one who showed me what lies beyond my small village, showed me what I could achieve, introduced me to people I could call friends, showed me the mirror, taught me how to love, supported me, spoiled me, treated me as an equal, and relied on me.
Tomorrow will be the day when the year ends, the day when I can have everything I want—the only thing I want: just one person. All I have to do is say yes.
But I can't just say yes.
After all, he helped me become the person I am today, and he is the reason I've met so many wonderful people.
So it's only fair that he has a say in this.
And I hope he says he loves me. Because I've learned one more thing here: to be selfish.
So, whatever answer he gives me, I will respect his wishes. Please wait for me tomorrow.