2 States: The Story of My Marriage Read online

  Rajji mama gloated after everyone complimented him on the masterstroke gift.

  ‘Uncle, start the DJ,’ Nikki said to Rajji mama.

  Rajji mama nodded towards the dance floor. DJ Pussycats from Rajouri Garden comprised of two fat surds who had waited hours for that signal. They started with dhol beats. All the younger cousins hit the dance floor. The uncles needed a few more pegs and the aunties needed a few more elbow pulls from the younger kids to come and groove.

  ‘They gave a car?’ Ananya said in a shocked voice even as Nikki dragged her towards the dance floor.

  ‘Yeah, a silver Santro,’ Nikki said, ‘come no, didi.’

  Ananya went with the girls. Her years of Bharatnatyam training made her the best performer on the floor. She picked up the Punjabi steps fast and even taught my cousins a few improvised moves. She looked beautiful in her dark green Kanjeevaram. Like an idiot, I fell in love with her all over again.

  ‘Have you eaten dinner?’ my mother came up next to me.

  ‘Er . . . no,’ I said, peeling my eyes away from the floor.

  ‘Then eat fast, we won’t get an auto home,’ my mother said.

  ‘We will buy a car soon,’ I said.

  ‘Like your father will let us have one. Anyway, why should we take? Kamla said we shouldn’t buy anything major until you get married. We don’t want duplicate items.’

  ‘Mom,’ I protested.

  ‘Go fast, the paneer will get over. And tell your friend to eat.’

  I waved at Ananya to come eat with me. She panted as she walked with me to the buffet. I put black daal, shahi paneer and rotis on my plate. Ananya took yellow daal and rice.

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s all I like,’ she said.

  There was a commotion at the bar. Duke and his friends were fighting with the bartender.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘They are not making the pegs large enough. Duke’s friends are upset,’ an onlooker said.

  Rajji mama intervened. The hotel staff had foreseen that the whisky may run out and so had started doling out smaller quantities. There were no extra bottles of that brand even in the hotel. Rajji mama took out a wad of notes and gave it to the hotel staff. A waiter was sent to the Delhi border to fetch the whisky. Like always, money soothed nerves and everyone became cheerful again.

  ‘This is a wedding?’ Ananya said.

  ‘Of course, that’s how all weddings are. Why, your side has it different?’ I said.

  ‘You bet,’ Ananya said.

  We bade goodbyes to Rajji mama and Kamla aunty. As I walked out with my mother and Ananya, Shipra masi called me.

  ‘Yes, aunty,’ I said.

  ‘Listen, you are our family’s pride. Don’t do anything stupid. These Madrasis have laid a trap for you.’

  ‘Good night, aunty,’ I said.

  ‘See, I am saying it for your benefit. Your mother has suffered, make her happy. You can get girls who will fill your house with gifts.’

  I bent down. If all else fails with kin, touch feet.

  ‘What did Shipra masi say?’ Ananya asked me.

  ‘She said to make sure Ananya is dropped home safe,’ I said as I stopped an auto.

  46

  I met Ananya at Punjabi by Nature in Vasant Vihar. I should have thought of a better-named venue, given her current mental state. However, the location was convenient and the food excellent.

  ‘What is the point of me attending these family events, I feel so awkward,’ Ananya began.

  ‘It’s one more ceremony – the actual wedding. Don’t worry, tomorrow my aunts will be more used to you. Once my mother sees them accepting you, she is more likely to say yes.’

  ‘I think she wants a set of car keys more than anyone’s approval,’ Ananya said.

  ‘No, my mother is not like that. She doesn’t want the car, but she wants her siblings to appreciate she managed a car. Get it?’

  ‘Not really,’ Ananya shook her head.

  The waiter came to take the order. We ordered one parantha, which came with enough butter to stop your heart instantly. We ate dinner as we contemplated our next move.

  ‘Sir, would you like to try our golgappas with vodka?’ the waiter said.

  ‘What?’ Ananya said.

  ‘No thanks,’ I told the waiter and turned to Ananya. ‘It is a gimmick. Trust me, Punjabis don’t do that on a regular basis.’

  ‘I am going back to Chennai in two days,’ Ananya said.

  ‘I know. But I will speak to mom, maybe even my uncles, after the wedding. I want to lock this in,’ I said.

  ‘What about your dad?’ Ananya said.

  ‘He won’t agree. We’ll have the wedding without him. Aren’t mom’s side relatives enough?’

  ‘They are more than enough. Each talks more than ten of my relatives. Still.’

  ‘Ananya, you can’t get everything in life. Your parents, my mom, relatives—we have enough blessings. My father is not required.’

  ‘You should talk to him though. He’s your father,’ Ananya said.

  ‘Isn’t the food great?’ I said as I rubbed butter on my parantha.

  47

  Minti’s final wedding ceremony gave new meaning to the expression over the top. Real elephants and ice sculpture fairies greeted us at the entrance. The boy’s side had not yet arrived. Patient ushers waited with trays of flower petals. We shuffled through landscaped gardens with two dozen dolphin-shaped fountains to reach the main party area. The caterer had chosen a world theme. Food stalls served eight cuisines—Punjabi, Chinese, home-style Indian, Thai, Italian, Mexican, Goan and Lebanese—with at least five items in each genre. Apart from these, there were two chaat stalls – one for regular eaters and the other for health-conscious guests. The regular counter served samosas and tikkis, while the health counter had sprouts-stuffed golgappas. My aunts took both, one for taste and another for health.

  There were two bars. The first bar had a giant Johnny Walker Black Label magnum cask. All uncles congregated here and waiters kept bringing in a regular supply of paneer tikkas and hara bhara kababs. The second bar was the mocktail bar, nicknamed the ladies bar. It had a large display shelf with two dozen glasses of different shapes and filled with psychedelic fruit drinks.

  ‘Beautiful, Rajji, you have held the family name high,’ my mother said, admiring the flower arrangements on the bridal stage.

  ‘These orchids have come from Thailand. Just landed two hours ago from Bangkok,’ Rajji mama said.

  ‘Fifty thousand is just the flowers bill,’ Shipra masi said. We raised our eyebrows to express suitable awe.

  My cousin Rohan came running in to tell us that the baraat had arrived. We went outside and stood next to the elephants to receive them. Rohan gave me a pink turban, something all brothers and close male relatives wore to receive the groom.

  ‘You look cute,’ Ananya grinned.

  All turbaned men posed for pictures with their equivalent counterparts from Duke’s side. I had a picture clicked with Prince, Duke’s cousin. Minti’s father grinned as he hugged Duke’s father for a picture. Duke’s father frowned.

  ‘Why is the boy’s father so serious?’ Ananya said.

  ‘Maybe he is hungry,’ I said. We soon found out I was wrong. Duke’s family did come inside and sat on the sofas. However, they refused to touch anything to eat.

  ‘One cold drink-ji,’ Kamla mami begged Duke’s mother, who shook her head.

  ‘We are not hungry,’ Duke’s father said. Duke, his parents and a dozen close relatives sat on the sofas next to the stage. Half a dozen waiters stood by with trays but the boy’s side ate nothing.

  ‘The snacks are not hot, go get fresh ones,’ Minti’s father screamed at the waiters. His anger was misplaced. The boy’s family had not refused food because of its temperature.

  ‘Ask what’s the matter. Something is wrong,’ Shipra masi said.

  ‘Who will ask?’ Rajji mama said, ‘They are not saying anything.’

  Kaml