Sunday, February 13, 2011


The roads were terrible. It was a bumpy ride. The first thing she saw when she woke up were her hands. She had almost forgotten she was wearing these. So pretty. Framing her delicate wrists and matching her platinum wedding band perfectly. She smiled, thinking of the man she had just married. Their 2 year courtship. The actual wedding, only last week.

Aman was perfect. Always so caring, so attentive. Putting up with her family when they opposed the engagement. Finally convincing them to accept him, as she knew he would. He was a charmer, that one. After being the rule abiding daughter to her parents all her life, Aman made her feel like she had finally exhaled after 26 years of holding her breath.

She felt groggy. She wondered when they would get there. She hated long car drives. Just like Aman.

They had had a typical Tamil wedding, because her parents had been adamant. A brief honeymoon in Kerala. All that trekking, the photography, the shopping. It was perfect. She had always wanted to have sex on a houseboat.

The streetlight glinted off her ring and momentarily blinded her. She had a feeling she was forgetting something important.

She had really enjoyed that Ayurvedic massage Aman had insisted she take. He had been right, it was blissful. It didn't take as long as she thought it would. Feeling relaxed and mildly turned on, she went back to their room, hoping Aman would be there. He was. With the attractive French woman who had offered to take a picture of them the previous day.

The car drove over a pothole, making her feel slightly sick. She glanced down at her wrists again. It occurred to her that this would make a brilliant photo. The dim light, the handcuffs and her bloodstained hands with her wedding ring. "I wish I had my camera."