With time, he agreed, and we introduced him to Rekha, a kind and thoughtful woman in her mid-forties. They spoke often, discovered shared interests, and gradually grew comfortable around each other. When they finally married, the ceremony followed traditional customs—a mandap draped in flowers, a warm gathering of relatives, and a gentle happiness on both their faces.
My father wore a sherwani that somehow made him look years younger. Rekha looked elegant in a cream-white sari. As they completed the rituals, tied the sacred thread, and exchanged blessings, it felt as though hope had re-entered our home.
