22nd May 2025 - Raviteja Gullapalli

It’s All My Fault… But There’s Something I Can Do

A story of love, sacrifice, and the healing that comes with understanding.

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Chapter 1: Threads of Two Worlds

Arjun was born into a traditional Telugu Brahmin family in Vijayawada — a home built on discipline, rituals, and quiet reverence. His mother, Padmavathi, was deeply religious, waking at 4 AM every day, reciting scriptures while making strong filter coffee. His father, Srinivasa Rao, was a retired Sanskrit professor who held pride in values, caste, and legacy.

Sana came from Delhi. A half-Punjabi, half-Muslim woman, raised in a home of shared festivals, noisy dinners, and open windows. She was bold, warm, and carried the scent of Delhi winters with her — strong, sharp, yet comforting.

They met during their MBA in Pune. What started as a group project bloomed into late-night study sessions, long train rides, and finally, love. But they both knew — the real test would not be between them. It would be with the world around them.

Chapter 2: The First No

When Arjun told his parents about Sana, silence fell like a stone.

“She’s not Brahmin,” his father said quietly.
“She’s not Telugu,” his mother added, her voice trembling.
“She eats meat.”
“She won't know our ways.”

They didn’t yell. That wasn’t their style. But their disappointment was louder than anger.

Arjun stayed back a few days to talk. To explain that Sana was willing to learn. That she respected their values. But Padmavathi, usually so composed, cried silently one night and clutched her chest.

Her blood pressure had spiked. She was hospitalized for two days.

“See what you’ve done?” his father said.

Arjun stood by her bed, eyes red. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered to himself, again and again.

Chapter 3: Distance

Back in Hyderabad, Sana noticed his growing silence. He smiled less, held her hand less often, and stared at his phone too long after every call.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he confessed one night. “She’s not just my mother. She raised me when Appa was busy at work for months. She had compromised on everything for us. I can’t be the reason she suffers now.”

Sana nodded, quietly. Her heart broke, but she didn’t fight. She stopped sending wedding decor ideas. She started taking evening walks alone.

One day, she packed a small bag. “I’m going to stay with a friend for a while. You need to be with your family now.”

Chapter 4: The Wait

Weeks passed. Padmavathi recovered physically, but emotionally, she could sense something inside Arjun was… lost. He was at home, but distant. She noticed how he no longer smiled at his favorite rasam. How he stared blankly when she played his childhood songs.

One afternoon, she found a note tucked into the Bhagavad Gita he had once gifted her.

“Amma, I didn’t choose between you and her. I chose you… hoping you would one day choose me — all of me. Including the woman who makes me whole.”

That evening, she turned to Srinivasa Rao and said, “We are holding his body, but his soul… it’s elsewhere.”

Chapter 5: The Return

Sana was back in Delhi, working quietly. She had stopped replying to Arjun’s messages. She didn’t want to make it harder for him.

Until one morning, her doorbell rang. And there stood Padmavathi, with folded hands and tearful eyes.

“I came alone. Not as his mother… but as a woman who once gave up everything for love. I see now… you’re not taking our son away. You’re giving him back to us.”

Sana broke down. That night, Padmavathi stayed with her, and they talked — about rituals, about compromise, about boundaries.

Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Wedding

They didn’t have a lavish wedding. There was no band, no paparazzi, no endless rituals. Instead, it was held at a small venue in Vijayawada. A limited guest list. Simple attire.

Sana had spent months learning Telugu. She kept her promise, and she celebrated every festival with Padmavathi, even learning how to light the lamp just right.

Arjun, in turn, visited Delhi every few months. He learned to cook chole for her father.

They had both let go of something — parts of their habits, their timelines, their pride — but in return, they got something stronger: belonging.

Final Note

Love didn’t win through rebellion. It won through empathy. Through slow healing, awkward first steps, honest apologies, and everyday patience.

Sana and Arjun didn’t just marry. They taught two families to unlearn fear.

And in the quiet corners of their small Hyderabad apartment, where the tulsi plant sways next to fairy lights, where ghee sizzles next to Delhi spices… they found peace.

“It’s all my fault... that I loved her. But there was something I could do. I waited. I understood. And I chose her, every single day.”

– The End –