The Lake Palace glittered like a gem on the Pichola, looking like something from a dream, or rather something from an expensive advertisement in a glossy magazine. Vikram’s taxi lurched through Udaipur’s narrow lanes before depositing him at the jetty where a private boat waited to ferry wedding guests across the lake.

Three days, Vikram thought. He’d agreed to three days of this.

The boat ride took eight minutes. He counted. Each minute weighed heavily on him. He glanced around, soft December sunshine enveloped everything in a gentle, golden glow. Other guests were already in a celebratory mood, distant relatives laughing, a young British couple in colourful kurtas clicking selfies for Instagram. Probably Naina’s friends from London, where she worked.

“First time in Udaipur, sir?” the boatman grinned.

“No. But first time at this hotel.”

“Very fancy wedding, sir. Three days total. We are taking guests back and forth all weekend.”

Vikram mumbled something vague and looked across the lake as the hotel came into view. Three days of inquisitive old women in the family asking him why he still wasn’t married. Three days of watching couples drift effortlessly through the wedding together, chatting, drinking, posing for photos. Three days of being Naina’s beloved mama. Funny, affectionate, generous and uncomplicated. He could do three days, he’d done sixty-two years.

Vikram disembarked to a group of hotel staff in crisp uniforms greeting guests with bright orange marigold garlands and trays of pink bubbly topped with golden froth. An enthusiastic photographer circled arriving guests, clicking photos. Candid shots, they would later be called. Vikram accepted a garland, picked a glass off the tray, took a few sips, found it vile and set it aside before walking toward the reception.

“Mama!”

Vikram turned to see Naina pushing her way towards him through the throng in the reception area. She was dressed in a pale pink silk kurta, her loose curls tumbled down her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed, with excitement or nervousness Vikram wasn’t sure. She looked so much like his sister Sudha at that age his breath caught.

“You’re here!” she threw her arms around him despite him still carrying his suitcase.

“You’re late, I was getting worried”

“Delayed flight because of fog. You know how it is in Delhi.” He held her gently by her shoulders and looked at her. “You look beautiful, Naina beta.” He smiled.

“Ugh, I look miserable. My makeup artist got food poisoning and can’t come, the airline lost Kabir’s cousin’s luggage, dad is having a meltdown because bua’s son-in-law Dhruv is suddenly vegan, the hotel says the menu can’t be changed, and mummy’s losing her mind trying to hold us together. I’m so sorry, Mama, but this wedding is going to give me an ulcer. Anyway, come let me show you your room. Mehendi’s in an hour, then the welcome dinner at eight. The Sangeet is tomorrow, you’re at our table, then the wedding and reception on Sunday.” Naina guided him toward the elevator.

“Naina, I can find my own room.”

“No, I need ten minutes away from that crazy wedding planner or I will pull my hair out.” She pressed the elevator button “She’s been calling me “Naini” for two days now.” She rolled her eyes.

Vikram laughed despite how distraught Naina looked. This was why he had come, not for the wedding, but for her.

The elevator had a mirror, and Vikram caught a glimpse of himself. Reflected was a sixty-two-year-old man, with generous streaks of silver running through his hair, crow’s feet gathering around his eyes, and wearing an indigo blue kurta he’d bought especially for this occasion. Beside him stood his niece, full of youth and excitement.

“Mama” Naina looked at Vikram’s face with a concerned look, as the elevator doors slid shut “Are you okay? You look…I don’t know…stressed?”

“It’s been a long journey.” Vikram smiled

“No, what I meant is…are you happy? Being here at the wedding?

“Of course, it’s your wedding.”

“I know…but” the elevator came to a halt at the sixth floor. Naina walked down the hallway holding Vikram’s arm.

“I know how difficult it has been for you all along, especially at family gatherings like these. I’ve seen how these old aunties corner you at every wedding asking you why you still aren’t married, giving you pitying looks, and their husbands cracking jokes and making snide remarks they think are harmless. I know it’s not easy.”

“Naina, don’t worry, beta. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious, Mama’ she looked at him, her eyes searching, “Whatever they say, and they will say things, don’t listen.”
Before he could respond, her phone rang and she groaned “The wedding planner…the flowers for the…I have to go.” She squeezed his arm and hurried towards the elevator “Rest for a while” she called over her shoulder “I’ll see you at the mehendi. The lawns by the pool okay.”

She was gone and Vikram found himself alone in the hallway. He tapped his card and entered his room.

It was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake, a giant king size bed with far too many pillows than he needed, and a welcome basket with fruits and chocolates and a handwritten note:

“Welcome to Naina and Kabir’s Wedding Celebration”

Vikram set his bag down and sat at the edge of the bed. The room was quiet, except for a trace of the sound of celebrations drifting up from below. Music, laughter. The beginning of three days.

As he rose to get his suitcase, he glanced at the empty space beside him on the bed. It was too large for one person. They always were. Unlike that narrow bed in a small flat on the outskirts of Delhi, decades ago, where two people had fit perfectly.

Suddenly a memory surfaced, vivid, and uninvited. Sunlight pouring in through faded cotton curtains. A Saturday morning, two people in a narrow bed, their bodies nestled snugly against each other, close, closer than this king-size luxury would ever allow.

“We should get up.” a voice whispered against his neck

“Five more minutes”

“You said that an hour ago”

“And I’ll say it again in five minutes”
Warmth, laughter, both half asleep. Fingers grazing his beneath thin sheets. The weight of another person’s head on his chest, their breath rising and falling in harmony.

“What if we just stayed here.” Vikram whispered, “What if we never left this room?”

A pause. A sad voice, heavy with a lot unsaid “You know we can’t.”

“I know”

“But I wish we could”

“Me too”

For a few stolen hours they did. They stayed in that narrow bed, in that run down flat, pretending the world outside had ceased to exist, pretending they had forever.

Vikram’s phone dinged and the memory dissolved. He looked around the room, vast, empty and silent, except for the faint music drifting up from below.
He shook his head and glanced at his watch. Mehendi was in forty minutes.

Vikram changed into a golden yellow kurta Sudha insisted he buy for the occasion.

“Please bhaiya, you can’t wear those boring colours you usually wear,” she’d insisted while dragging him through South Extension. “This is Naina’s wedding.”
He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Older, greyer, and yet that same practiced smile he’d worn to hundreds of weddings before this one.

As he made his way downstairs, he could hear the celebrations getting louder. Music, dancing, laughter, and the usual high-pitched excitement that was part of any wedding. He paused at the edge of the lawns, taking in the scene. Bright pink and golden canopies, silk cushions scattered across on which women sat, their palms outstretched for the mehendi artists. Naina sat in the center surrounded by her friends, glowing.

“Mama!” she spotted him and waved. “Come sit.”

He smiled and stepped into the celebrations.

He’d barely sat down when it started.

“Vikram beta!” an elderly aunt hobbled towards him clutching a walking stick. “So good to see you! Still in Delhi? Still…unmarried?”

The pause before “unmarried” was deliberate. He had enough experience to recognize it.

“Still in Delhi, yes.” he said, smiling with practiced ease.

“Such a shame,” she sighed, lowering herself onto the chair beside him. “A nice man like you. My friend has a divorced sister, highly educated, runs her own business too.”

Bua ji, I think they’re calling for family photos.” He lied as he got up.

“We’ll talk later.” She patted his arm.

He made his way towards the bar, where the bartender was mixing drinks. He asked for a gin and tonic. The music switched to a Bollywood remix and Naina’s London friends started to dance.

Suddenly the music sounded too loud to Vikram. He moved away from the crowd, towards the edge of the lawn where there were fewer people. He needed to breathe. He needed some space. A few minutes away from this rehearsed performance.

That’s when Vikram saw him.

Across the courtyard talking to someone from the groom’s side. Older now, salt and pepper hair, a hint of a paunch, but that same smile that made Vikram’s heart twist.

It was unmistakably him. The glass in Vikram’s hand shook.

Time froze. Thirty-eight years collapsed around him in seconds.

Arvind was laughing at something the man next to him was saying, shaking his head as he laughed, the way he always had. Then, as if sensing the gravity of Vikram’s gaze, he turned.

Their eyes met.

The laughter on Arvind’s face stalled. For a moment neither moved. The wedding cacophony echoed around them, but they stood still in a moment suspended in time.

Then Arvind said something to his companion and began walking towards Vikram.

Vikram’s heart was pounding. His gaze was fixed on Arvind, he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except watch as the man he’d loved walk across thirty-eight years in thirty seconds.

“Vikram?” Arvind’s voice shook, unsure “Is that…is it really you?

“Hello, Arvind.”

They stood three feet apart, an awkward distance that felt both too close and yet not close enough.

“What are you doing here?” Arvind looked baffled and then shook his head “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how I meant it. I just…I never thought…”

“I’m Naina’s Mama. Her mother Sudha is my sister.”

“Naina is your niece?” Arvind went pale. “Kabir is my nephew. My wife’s sister’s son.”

The coincidence felt brutal. Of all the weddings, of all the families. This.

“I had no idea” Vikram said quietly

“Me neither” Arvind glanced back at the crowd, and then back at Vikram. “You look…you look well.”

“So do you”

The lie hung in the air

“I should…” Arvind gestured vaguely towards where his family was standing in a tight knot chatting. “My wife is here with my kids and grandchildren.”
Vikram felt his throat constrict. Of course, life had gone on for Arvind. Marriage, children, grandchildren. The way things usually progressed.

“Of course,” Vikram nodded “It was…good to see you.”

Both knew it was a lie.

Arvind halted for a bit, and then simply nodded and walked away, melting into the chaos.

And suddenly Vikram was twenty-four again, at a different wedding, watching Arvind walk towards a different bride.

Delhi, 1987
The mandap was festooned in bright red and gold, conventional and suffocating. Vikram stood at the back of the crowd behind a pillar watching Arvind circle the sacred fire with a woman dressed in an ornate brocade sari.

He’d come because Arvind had asked him to. “Please” he’d said, during their last meeting, tears streaming down his face “I need to know you’re there. Even if I can’t see you. I need to know. Please!”

So, Vikram stood there, watching the man he loved promising himself to another person. Watching everything he’d ever wanted dissolve with each circle around the fire.

Arvind glanced his way once. Their eyes met across the crowd for the briefest second, and Vikram had seen everything in that one glance, grief, apology, resignation, and love. And then Arvind had turned back to his bride and Vikram felt everything around him collapse into nothing.

Vikram blinked. Around him the mehendi ceremony continued, the music, the laughter, the festive enthusiasm carrying on as if the ground beneath Vikram’s feet hadn’t shifted.

Arvind had disappeared into the crowd.

Vikram needed a moment. He stumbled towards a flight of stairs leading to the terrace.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Sangeet performances he barely noticed, dinner he couldn’t eat. All the while Vikram was constantly aware of Arvind’s presence around him. His voice, glimpses across the room. There and yet not there.

By the time the reception began, Vikram had made a decision. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, only that something had significantly shifted. Almost four decades of practiced silence suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

The speeches began after dinner. Family members took turns. Kabir’s father, Sudha with tears in her eyes, Kabir’s brother with an embarrassing story.

Then the MC’s voice boomed “And now for the bride’s beloved Mama, Vikram uncle!”

Naina caught his eye from where she was seated and smiled encouragingly.

Vikram rose.

His legs trembled, but his mind was astonishingly clear. He’d had two whiskeys, just enough to hush the voice that had forced him into choosing silence for sixty-two years.

“Thank you” he began “Unlike my sister, I promise to keep this short.”

People laughed. He could still stay here if he wanted. In this safe space of uncle jokes.

“I’ve known Naina since the day she was born. She was this tiny, screaming, squirming little thing and I thought this is what people mean when they talk about unconditional love” His voice faltered. “The kind that doesn’t ask questions. The kind that loves fiercely. Loves forever.”

Naina’s eyes were already brimming with tears.

“I’ve been to many weddings. I’ve seen people I know stand where you, Naina and Kabir are standing today, promising each other their love” The room went silent. “And I’ve always wondered…what does it feel like to be chosen? To be seen the way you are and loved anyway.”

Sudha’s smile froze, confused.

“People have asked me for years…why I haven’t married and I’ve had many answers. Too busy, haven’t found the right person, the usual.”

His eyes met Arvind’s across the room.

“But the truth is I did find the right person. Once. Many years ago.” His voice broke. “And I lost them. Not because we didn’t love each other, but because the world didn’t have space for a love like ours.”

Murmurs rippled across the room.

“I have loved and I have lost. And I have spent all my life pretending it never happened.” He took a deep breath “I am a gay man. I have always been a gay man.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“And I am tired of living in the shadows. Living in silence. Tired of deflecting questions. Tired of watching people choose love, while I chose fear.”
Naina was sobbing, Kabir’s arm was around her.

“Naina, Kabir, you’re starting something beautiful. My wish for you is simple, never hide from each other. Never make yourselves invisible to make the other comfortable. Choose truth, even when it scares you. Especially when it scares you.”

He looked at Arvind one final time. Tears ran down Arvind’s face.

“Love is precious. Love is rare. A sob escaped him.

“I found mine, but I had to let it go. Don’t ever let go of yours.”

He set down the microphone.

Naina ran to his side, throwing her arms around him “Mama” she whispered fiercely “I’m so proud of you.”

The room was buzzing, some guests applauding, others looking at each other in shock and horror. Chairs were pushed back as some stood to leave. Vikram didn’t watch. He held Naina and allowed himself to cry.

When he looked up, Sudha was there. Brow creased, eyes wide.

“Bhaiya” her voice shook “How did I not know?”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“All these years” she whispered, “You’ve been carrying this all alone?” she pulled him into a tight embrace, “I’m so sorry. I should have seen. I should have made you feel safe. I failed.”

“You didn’t fail me, Sudha. I hid.”

An elderly uncle walked past without a word, his family following frowning towards the exit. Others remained. Naina’s London friends were wiping tears.

The wedding continued. Smaller now. But continued.

Then Arvind appeared through the now sparse crowd.

They stood facing each other. Two men who’d loved each other a lifetime ago.

“That was…” Arvind couldn’t finish. His hand trembled as he reached out to briefly touch Vikram’s arm. “You were so brave.”

“I wasn’t brave thirty-eight years ago.”

“Neither was I” Arvind’s voice caught “I’m glad you’re free, even if I can’t be.”

Then he turned and walked away. Back to his wife, his family, his chosen life.

This time, Vikram watched him go with no regret.

The wedding continued. Vikram stayed for one dance with Naina, stayed to accept Sudha’s tearful hug, and smile at a few relatives who approached him with awkward, but genuine kindness.

But eventually he found himself walking towards the jetty where boats were waiting to carry guests to the shore.

“Leaving already, sir?” the boatman asked.

“Yes” said Vikram “I think I am.”

As the boat pulled away from the palace, the lights and music gently faded. Somewhere behind him the celebrations continued. Somewhere behind him, Arvind remained trapped in a life others had chosen for him.

Vikram was leaving alone, but for the first time in all his life he was leaving as himself. Finally liberated.

The night air felt light. The stars shone brighter.

He had spent sixty-two years holding his breath. Tonight, finally, he exhaled.