Not a Stranger

I shouldn’t have come.

The moment I stepped into the wedding venue, I knew it. The crowd moved like a tide, pulling people into conversations, laughter, inside jokes I didn’t understand. It was warm—too warm. The mix of perfume, incense, and wedding food thickened the air. Everywhere, clusters of people stood in tight circles, talking, leaning into each other with familiarity. But none of them were mine.

A lone guy at an Indian wedding stands out. Not in an obvious way, not like people stare or point—but they notice. A glance from an uncle, a fleeting look from an auntie, a whispered something followed by a quick laugh. Who is he with? Bride’s side or groom’s? Whose friend?

I reached for my phone. Nothing. No notifications. No messages. No escape.

Maybe it was the bhang. The prashad from Shivratri, the one I had taken before coming here, had settled into my body, making my head feel light, my thoughts slightly out of sync. Not dizzy, not exactly lost—just… floating.

I needed something to hold on to.

And then I saw her.

It wasn’t sudden, not a dramatic entrance, no slow-motion turn. It was quieter than that. My body just knew before my eyes did. The moment she entered my line of sight, my heartbeat, which had been racing all evening, slowed down. My shoulders eased. The fire in my chest, the twisting in my stomach—all of it settled.

She wasn’t looking at me. She was moving through the crowd, adjusting the bangles on her wrist, brushing strands of hair away from her face. She belonged here. This was her world—her family, her friends, her night.

I wanted to go to her, but before I could take a step, someone called her name. She turned, laughing, disappearing into a group of cousins. Then another voice pulled her away. A friend, a relative, another familiar face.

Of course. It was her brother’s wedding. She was everywhere, but never in one place for too long.

And me? I was still standing there, a guest with no real reason to be here except for the fact that I knew the groom's sister.

I shook off the hesitation and did the only thing I could—I became a part of the wedding. Not completely, not seamlessly, but enough. I introduced myself to her mother, to her brother. Not with full introductions, no formalities, just my name and the fact that I was her friend. They nodded, smiled, moved on. It was a small thing, but it helped. I wasn’t a stranger anymore.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

Then, just as I started convincing myself that I should step aside, let the wedding carry on without me in the way, she turned—and this time, she saw me.

Her smile didn’t fade. She didn’t rush over, didn’t call out my name. She just held my gaze for a second, and that was enough. That was all it took.

I exhaled.

The tension that had been sitting in my chest all evening melted away. The noise, the strangers, the weight of being here alone—none of it mattered anymore.

She walked toward me, slow, unhurried. "You actually came."

"You thought I wouldn’t?"

"You don’t like weddings," she said, tilting her head slightly.

"I don’t like being alone at weddings."

Her lips twitched, like she wanted to say something but held back. Instead, she glanced at the drink in my hand. "That’s not alcohol, is it?"

"No." I paused. "But I did have some bhang before coming here."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Wait. What?"

"The prashad," I clarified. "From Shivratri."

She blinked. Then, after a moment, she laughed. "Oh my God. You’re high?"

"Not high," I corrected. "Just… temporarily disconnected from my physical form."

Her laughter deepened, eyes crinkling at the corners. "How much did you take?"

"Enough to feel like my soul left my body and just came back now."

She shook her head, still smiling. "Come on. Let’s get you something to eat before you start levitating."

I followed her, the crowd still there, the noise still loud, the world still spinning—but none of it touched me anymore.

Coming here was the right decision.