It is the year 1975, when Charlotte Von Sledvin, a 19-year-old student of a Swedish royal family, travels to India to get a portrait made by a gifted artist. The artist was born into a some what poor Indian family of the lowest caste, also known as the “untouchables.” Despite the incredibly difficult circumstances, the artist named Pradyumna Kumar Mahanandia had gained an outstanding reputation for being a gifted and talented painter. His reputation led Charlotte Von Sledvin to travel all the way to India to get her portrait done by him...

By the time the portrait was finished, the two had fallen in love already. Pradyumna was fascinated with Charlotte’s beauty and splendor. Never before had he seen a more beautiful woman from the Western world. He gave his best to capture all her beauty in the portrait, yet never fully succeeded. Nonetheless, the portrait was magnificent and Charlotte fell for his simplicity and his beautiful character. Because of him, she spontaneously decided to stay longer in India. Out of a couple of days became weeks and then even a lot of months. The two had fallen so deeply in love that they decided to get married according to traditional Indian rituals.

Unfortunately, the time came when Charlotte had to leave again in order to complete her studies in London. Thousands of miles separated the two but their feelings for each other never changed. They stayed in contact through letters, which they exchanged almost weekly with each other. Naturally, the newlyweds terribly struggled with the great distance between each other. Charlotte offered her husband to buy him air tickets, which he refused. He had not only decided to complete his studies first, but he had also set his mind on reuniting with the love of his life on his own terms. He even made her the promise that he would do anything he can to see her again.

After Pradyumna had finished his studies, he took all his possessions and sold them. Unfortunately, the money he earned didn’t even come close to a flight ticket. All he could afford was a cheap and used bicycle. Many would have been greatly disappointed, some would have even given up. But not Pradyumna. Instead of allowing the difficult circumstances to stop him from seeing his beloved wife again, he met the decision to use what he had in order to see her again. Nothing could stop him from reuniting with his wife, even if that meant an exhausting bicycle ride half around the world.

His decision was the beginning of a bicycle journey from India to the Western world. Pradyumna took all his paintings and brushes along with him in order to financially support his endeavor. His voyage led him through eight countries and took more than four months. But eventually, he arrived at Charlotte’s hometown in Sweden and finally saw her again. From then on, the two did never leave each other’s side for too long.

I got married when i was 20 to a man that by all accounts wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t good for me. Long story short, I was married to a loser. He didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, he just didn’t do anything at all. Now, I am not a “typical woman” if there even is such a thing. I love myself. Sure, there are things I want to improve, but I don’t have a problem with my age, or intelligence, or what my body looks like, or my personality- those things that seem to stereotypically plague women just don’t bother me for whatever reason. I have a career where I make more than enough money on my own to live comfortably. I know how to use power tools, fix my own car, and google the shit out of anything else that needs to be done. I say what I mean, and expect others to do the same, none of this passive-aggressive nonsense. But I’m stubborn as a mule, and marriages are supposed to last, so even though I was the primary breadwinner, and did most of the things around the house, and raised my kids mostly on my own, I still spent 13 years in that worthless marriage. At the end of the day, my husband felt like I didn’t need him, because I am very capable. But he was wrong. I needed support. I needed a partner, a friend. Even someone who would see how hard I was working to just keep my head above water. I couldn’t manage EVERYTHING on my own; and I still can’t.

For some perspective at how emotionally isolated I was, I struggled with infertility for three years; I had to take tons of medications & shots that made me sick, tired, have hot flashes, body aches, and migraines for those years; not to mention the emotional drain of every month without fail seeing a single pink line on that damn stick. The emotion of going through a bulk pack of pregnancy tests, or taking photos of your cousin’s child’s first birthday (for the child they conceived after you started trying), is just… a lot to bear; I was very open with my struggles, because i think it helped other people too. Somehow, my husband wasn’t even aware this was a thing that i was needing support in. he had no idea. and it’s not because i didn’t tell him or directly ask him. he just was that thick and lost. he was a five year old trapped as an adult- lacking the ability to give support in that way.

And once I had kids, he was actually more of a burden than a help. I spent most of my time walking on eggshells, trying to balance being exhausted from a high-demand job, making dinner, and praying the kids (who are all-around good kids) didn’t do anything to “poke the bear” while my husband played games on his phone and mostly ignored them. I spent more time trying to keep them from upsetting him than anything else.

When i finally asked him to please leave, everything improved immediately. I could breathe again. I was free of so much dead weight. I was so, so happy to just not-have-him around. It was so much better, I never looked back, and I was ok on my own. Sure, I crawled in to bed every night, feeling ready to collapse at the end of the day. Kids are demanding, after all. But I was free. And I was happy.

But it wears on you.

This is a story about the first year of my relationship with the girl I loved a lot.

I suppose it actually starts back in the month of July ,year 2017.Obviously she was,of course, dating my best friend at the time, but sadly they were in a relationship only for a few weeks and it finally ended up on bad terms. While the time they were dating I had only seen her one time...one time! I didn’t really say or talk much to her as I am a very a shy and socially awkward person.Haha.

I think I managed to get a few hellos out of my zipped mouth but nothing more than that I suppose..

Comment on my memory lad,tihe next time I met her was on the 31st of October. To be honest I don’t really remember that night much since I was nearly black out drunk for the majority of it. By that time things seemed to be quite ok between her and my best friend and that’s how I started talking to her more than before...

In late the late part of November we were all talking in group chats,as in online community I am a lot less awkward and I am able to talk to other people freely, no awkwardness or shyness,so this was a great way for me to start talking to her,haha..

As I started to become more friendly with her I also started to realise that she’s not how my best friend made her out to be at all.She was different.

We started to hang out even more, and the more time I spent with her the closer I felt I was getting to her. There are quite a few people in our friends group, I couldn’t quite explain why.Silly me..But I felt like I had some sort of bond with her,a special bond,a strange one..like I could connect with her in a way that I couldn’t with the other people.Seriously...Usually I hate it when people hug me and all, but when she did it always felt warm,sweet and somewhat comforting

Where our relationship progressed was on the New Year's Eve, I had one of my most depressive episodes and ended up leaving all of the group chats I was in. At the time I just felt really really lonely, as if I’m destined to never be happy....

She ended up private messaging me, asking what was wrong and why I was feeling like that. There’s only a few people that know how much of a shit show my childhood was, I felt comfortable with talking about it with her. And she seemed to have the perfect response to everything. After a while I felt a little better about myself and I will never forget some of the things that she said to me that night.