On that fateful day, the day that was supposed to mark the beginning of a new chapter in the life of Mahraaz, a day eagerly anticipated by both families, the bridegroom was nowhere to be found. The absence of the bridegroom on this momentous occasion was not only shocking, but also unexpected, unusual, and shrouded in mystery. It was an act that revealed the bridegroom's brazen display of indecency, callousness, and insensitivity towards the honor, reputation, and emotional well-being of the girl he was supposed to marry. The very foundations of trust and commitment were shattered, leaving everyone bewildered and questioning the true nature of this man.

Oh, the anticipation that had built up over months, the dreams of a joyous union, were now replaced with a sense of betrayal and abandonment. The bride, adorned in her exquisite bridal attire, stood there, her heart heavy with disappointment and confusion. Her delicate features, usually radiant with happiness, were now clouded with a veil of sorrow. The vibrant colors of her bridal ensemble, carefully chosen to symbolize love and prosperity, seemed to mock her in their vibrancy, as if taunting her with the stark contrast between the joyous celebration that was supposed to take place and the underlying sorrow that now enveloped her.
In the wake of this unfortunate turn of events, a journalist, known for his extensive following of hundreds of thousands of subscribers, made his way to the bride's house. With his microphone held high, he raised his voice to capture the attention of all those present. His presence was like a whirlwind, stirring up emotions and creating a chaotic atmosphere. The journalist, a man of great stature in the world of media, meticulously filmed the preparations for the "vurih" and the wazwan, ensuring that every detail was captured on camera. The vibrant colors of the decorations, the fragrant flowers adorning every corner, and the mouthwatering delicacies being prepared in the kitchen were all showcased to the world, as if to emphasize the stark contrast between the joyous celebration that was supposed to take place and the underlying sorrow that now enveloped the bride's home.
The henna-adorned hands of the Dulhan were not spared from his prying lens, as he exposed her face to the public eye. The intricate patterns, symbolizing love and prosperity, were now on display for the world to see. The journalist's reporting, though intended to shock and captivate, left me feeling equally shocked and suffocated. It was as if the sanctity of this sacred ceremony had been violated, and the bride's privacy had been stripped away without her consent.
While the bridegroom had displayed a harsh and insensitive demeanor towards the girl, the journalist sahib proved to be no different. In the name of journalism and empathy for the girl, he callously denied her the right to privacy and honor. He may have screamed in empathy, but little did he realize that his screams only served to amplify his unprofessionalism, journalistic incapability, and foolishness. The true essence of journalism lies in the pursuit of truth, but it should never come at the cost of someone's dignity and emotional well-being.
As I reflect upon these events, I am reminded of the words spoken by Hamlet in Shakespeare's renowned play: "something is rotten in the state of Denmark." However, in the context of this situation, I am compelled to say that "everything is rotten in the city of Kashmir." The actions of both the bridegroom and the journalist have left a bitter taste in my mouth, as I witness the erosion of decency, empathy, and respect in our society. It is a stark reminder that even in the most joyous of occasions, darkness can cast its shadow, revealing the true nature of individuals and the fragility of our social fabric.

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