She Walked Miles for Marriage, But Came Back Empty-Handed

I knew a girl who chose silent sacrifices over a comfortable youth. Her name was Shanta, my roommate during our college days in Dhaka. While others enjoyed rickshaws and roadside fuchka, Shanta walked every morning from Green Road to Eden College, just to save ten taka. When asked why, she would smile and say, "I’m getting fat." But I knew the truth — she was saving for her wedding.

Shanta was in love with a boy from her village who studied at Dhaka University. He had come to the city before her, and two years later, Shanta joined him by enrolling in Eden. Despite having modest family support and some income from tutoring, she lived with constant scarcity.

Once a week, she cooked meat. But not for herself. She would carefully pack the best portions and take it to her lover. “He doesn’t eat the food at his hall,” she once said with a smile. “He waits all week for food from my hands.”

Shanta had dreams — not just of marriage, but of a grand celebration. She imagined lights, colors, laughter, and people whispering, "Look, Shanta is getting married." But when the day came, it was without music or guests. One morning, she gently woke me and whispered, "Today we are getting married."

She wore no wedding dress. The boy had found a small job and insisted they marry immediately. I saw joy in her eyes that day — the same sparkle a child gets from a new Eid dress. Still, I was shaken. Was this the man she had sacrificed so much for?

I teased her, "Has love made you blind?" She hugged me and whispered, "May such love find you too." That moment stayed with me.

Years passed. I met my own love — Asif. He heard me sing at a university event and followed me ever since. He wasn’t perfect, but he was constant. I used to smile thinking of Shanta and how love had changed her. I never contacted her again. Life, phones, and people drifted apart.

Eventually, I married Asif with my family’s blessing. But marriage wasn’t the golden dream I had once played out with dolls. Real life came with real expectations. Soon, I was told, "Everyone’s wife works. You just eat and get fat."

Crushed, I began searching for work. My chemistry degree felt useless. I started forgetting who I used to be. Then one day, after a failed interview, I heard a voice: "Are you crazy?"

It was Shanta.

Her face was older, worn. Yet she smiled, "Why do you look so aged? You were the one who always glowed."

I laughed, "As you said once, love did come. But it didn’t stay."

As she got off the bus, I called out, "Tell me about you. Your husband? Your life?"

She turned and said quietly, "I returned from that marriage empty-handed. I had saved for everything, but came back with just a worn scarf on my head."

And just like that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Fairy tales don't always end with weddings. Some end at bus stops, with broken smiles and unanswered questions.