The Weight of an Arrangement
The lecture hall smells of old paper and monsoon damp, ceiling fans churning the humid air into something almost breathable. Meera sits in her usual spot, third row from the front, notebook open to a page half-filled with looping handwriting that trails off somewhere around the phrase *marriage as economic transaction disguised as romance.* Professor Iyer paces at the front of the room, his voice rising and falling with the practiced cadence of a man who has taught this same material for two decades.
"In *Pride and Prejudice*," he says, tapping his copy against his palm, "Mrs. Bennet's entire existence revolves around securing advantageous matches for her daughters. Austen presents this with irony, yes, but underneath the wit lies a brutal truth—for women of that era, marriage wasn't a choice born of love. It was survival."
A few students nod. Someone near the back yawns without covering her mouth. Meera writes *survival* in the margin of her notes and underlines it twice, though her mind has already begun to wander toward the stack of readings she still needs to finish before Thursday, and whether she has enough time to visit her father at the clinic after her last class.
Her…
