Chandra's vision was filled with bokeh in the soft neon lights at Luna. No, not the flower kind of bokeh but the technical-term-in-photography kind. She downed her drink and waved to the bartender. "One more whiskey neat." The bartender looked amusedly at all the glistening ice she had picked out from her drinks that night and carefully arranged on the bar counter. He turned away without questioning. Chandra looked at her impressive collection of ice - neatly arranged into an astral chart but slowly melting away into ugly, worthless pools. She saw her reflection scattered and broken up into little puddles. The burnt maroon lipstick, the smoky eye, the deep V in her glittery blue dress - oh she wanted to be a whore tonight. Yes, the kind Amma and Appa warned her against, the kind her temple would gossip about hushedly. "Chandran had 27 wives, but the loveliest of them was Rohini (one of the 27 Vedic moon signs). She was his favorite consort. You've got yourself a Rohini," the astrologer had told Chandra's parents some 24 years ago. So began the goddess rituals - 8pm curfews, a considerate wardrobe ban on shorts or skirts, and a strong discouragement of polluting career ambitions. Her phone buzzed with a text from Amma. "Don't forget, be there at 12am." Chandra scoffed. She had half a mind to bail on it and stay at Luna drinking away. But she couldn't be a whore forever, right? It was just for these few hours. Once this moonless night was over, she had to play goddess again. And so she walked in darkness, barely being able to put one foot infront of another, to the temple at Brink Road. 

 

So TLDR, this was Chandra's 47th prospective arranged match according to her match-logging excel sheet. But 47th time was definitely the charm, she was sure. Her match and she were already so perfect together. 9 out of 10 horoscope compatibility points was truly off the astral charts. Her family had rejoiced in mantras upon hearing the astrologer's diagnosis. But there was a catch. The guy was a Kettai moon sign and so the proposal had to be really hush-hush. Like meeting at a closed temple on a moonless Amavasai night kinda hush-hush. She had wanted to burst into laughter about this but only managed a few tears. For someone with the ‘perfectest' horoscope, why was her marriage an affair only second to witchcraft? Stupid rules had to be followed or else her next marital window will be at the age of 40 (Oh the horror! Could anyone imagine?) So Chandra, a staunch feminist, a self-made, leading icon in the media scene, trudged on tipsily into the poorly lit altar of the temple. Her vision was still adjusting when Kettai came into view like a photographic negative. She could make out his 6'4 medium-built silhouette and his effortlessly curly hair that made him look more profesh than boyish. She had scrunched her hair that morning, so it looked like they were styled together. He wordlessly stretched out a hand with a faint smile. Chandra felt the insuppressible urge to see his eyes. Like really stare into them and know for sure that they were not depths of darkness. She took his hand and stepped closer to him, until they were sharing hot, slowed breath. What an impressive muse, she thought. But no, not so soon she could bet on Kettai only for it to crumple up before the knot was tied. She was drunk, but clearly remembered that the Kettai was not supposed to speak first. "Say something. Rebel against it. Show me what you're worth." Chandra silently communicated with pleading eyes that were almost brimming with anticipatory tears. She wasn't comfortable with this silence. It wasn't quite like the silence when Appa had murmured the Tamil-word-for-whore to her face a week ago. The word just awkwardly hung in the air until Appa drifted into a post-anesthesia sleep. Stage 3 cancer was no joke. With about half a death date looming over him, it was in Chandra's hands to bless him with the sight of her marriage. She was literally about to, just a year ago. She had met the most photogenic guy, a model from work. Yes, she had to edit out his thick nosehairs but it was excused given his chiseled jawline and feminist inclinations. But leave it to the moon to screw things up. He ended up being a rare, wretched Moolam moon, someone unthinkable for her family because "marrying a Moolam would sit her in the Moolai" (a corner in Tamil). Would sitting in a corner be so bad? Anyway, she broke up with Moolam over text, not having the balls to fight for freedoms at such a time. Compartmentalising came easy to Chandra. And so Moolam was tucked away in a dump with an assortment of knick-knacks like purple hair and a septum piercing. 

 

Chandra eventually grew curious about her family's obsession with moon signs. She quickly got carried away, cataloguing every prospective groom, documenting their quirks, behaviors, and fatal flaws, moon sign by moon sign. Forget compatibility scores; Chandra was writing the ultimate guide to what each man under the stars was really like. She went out with Hasthams, Magams, Ayilyams and before she knew it, 26 of the signs were ticked off. All of them didn't work out of course, but Chandra knew exactly why. For example, Hasthams were too introverted, Magams were too loud and Ayilyams were just ‘meh'. But everything changed when Amma and Appa chanced upon the excel. Chandra may have been a Rohini goddess, but definitely not after that. 

 

"Am I your princess? Am I a whore? What am I? Would you love me if I was a rock? Flirt with me." Chandra's soft eyes turned to steel, becoming more demanding and sharp. She shifted to deepen the V of her dress. Yet, Kettai didn't break eye contact. Chandra instinctively thought "Wow, he must be the real deal," then chided herself for settling for the bare minimum. She was better than that. As a child, Appa always told her that goddesses held their chins high, and walked the ground as if they owned it. So, as Chandra tipped her chin higher, Kettai handlessly kissed her. It was soft but burning. Both of them opened their eyes at the same time, and Chandra could see his depthless pools for eyes rather clearly now. They were the most sultry shade of brown with a tinge of grey. They were like two huge orbs - very moonlike. To top it off, they had the thickest layer of eyeliner. Chandra immediately stumbled back in shock. She was staring back at a spitting image of herself, wide-mouthed and wide-eyed. Her eyes darted to the thick maroon lipstick mark on the full-length mirror. She looked around, seeing if anyone saw her embarrass herself while she was daydreaming about Kettai. The clock showed 12:01am. Luna was pretty much empty, leaving her with the cynical bartender from before. Bartender? Wait no, that was Chandran himself, adorned in majestic silver jewellery from head to toe and glowing with the almighty power of a thousand moons. The Chandran! Whose favorite consort was Rohini. Who had 27 wives. That was who she was meant to be with, not some Kettai or Moolam. This was what Appa was talking about. This was who she was meant to be - the top princess goddess married to the top god. Her family would be so proud. "Chandran, marry me?" Chandra asked him, full of heart-crushing hope. It was finally happening. The bokeh around her materialized into lots of tiny little moons - all blue, of course. Amidst the dazzling blue moons, Chandran scoffed at her. "You'd be a Chandra Chandran, that's gross." "Hell yeah," Chandra thought. "That is so gross."