I had met her at a wedding in Kashmir. She was a guest. I was a stranger taking photographs.
I noticed her because she was a live wire --I could feel her electricity from across the room.
We sat together on the floor, eating from the same dish. She told me she was a student, studying marketing. Marketing! I exclaimed. How interesting. What do you plan to with that? I asked. She looked at me. Then she looked away and said, After I finish my studies, I’ll do what's expected of me: I’ll get married. Then I will stay at home. I will wash clothes. And I will wash dishes. And I will wash children. And the days will pass like that. And I will look back on that time when I studied marketing. And I’ll try to remember what my professors taught me. But by then everything I learned at university will have slipped through my fingers and vanished into thin air. And I’ll pretend that it doesn't matter. That it doesn’t matter at all.
I’m very good at pretending, she said. And then she laughed.