‘How can someone make a bride get up at four in the morning? Dude, I am supposed to look my life’s best tonight. How will I survive?’ I whispered to Raj who stood next to me, waiting for Guru ji' s instructions.
‘Of course, you will. I will be there holding your hand and ensuring that smile.’
He nudged me with his shoulder and held my hand. It brought both warmth and a smile to me in this cold morning.
‘Shh…’ his Daadi reprimanded and then instructed with her quick eyes.
He walked away to sit with his family and I sat down on the low stool covered with a red-and-gold table cloth for the ceremony, in front of the sacred fire. The fact that I was performing the ceremony exclusively, while all were watching me, should have made me feel special. But I did not know why a slight uneasiness was lurking inside me. I was told that this was some special puja only for the bride.
From my family, no one was here. I was alone. My parents were still in the hotel. Though they wanted to come for this puja, especially my mother, but Raj’s Daadi insisted that they should not unnecessarily exert themselves as it required only the bride to be in attendance, that is me, and will be finished in a jiffy. My parents had travelled down to Bangalore yesterday morning, for my wedding.
My mother felt troubled ever since then. When I came back from the puja, she enquired about the details of the ceremony. Baba did not seem to be bothered much. He was busy preparing the cash envelopes to be handed over to the groom’s side during the ‘Sagan’ ceremony which was to begin in another two hours. He had already been to the ATM twice. I recounted to my mother whatever little I could recall, as once the puja had begun, I had gotten busy exchanging glances with Raj. After all, it was the most important day of our lives. We were getting married.
‘Did something happen, Ma?’ I asked.
‘No’.
‘Why is your forehead wrinkled then?’ I mocked a frown at her while folding the yellow kanjivaram I had worn that morning. I was back to wearing my track pants. Dashing from one kanjivaram sari to another straightaway, would have been a task. I needed the breather; even if it was for just half an hour.
‘Chill. They are such nice people. And you know Raj well. We have been together since the last three years. I will be happy, I swear. Don’t worry at all. And even if something fails, you know the strong soul you have made me to be. Nothing can bother or hurt me,’ I rattled off breezily, to Ma.
‘I know.’ She cuddled my chin with her right hand and pulled me into a hug with a tear in her eye. I think I was supposed to cry at that moment but unlike other brides, I did not feel like doing so. After all, my life would not change a bit. Raj and I would continue to be in Mumbai, away from our families, together, in the same house as we had been since the last two years. Nothing was going to change.
In fact, this wedding was more for our parents’ satisfaction, as Raj had surmised, when we were boarding the flight together - we should be treating this as a little family get together-cum-a cousin’s destination wedding, all rolled into one. It should be all about having fun.
‘Yeah’, I had chimed in chorus. ‘But what about these pujas that are planned to be performed after every two hours?’ I remember teasing him.
‘Even I was sure of that, till Raj asked’. Ma interjected my chain of thoughts.
‘He never asked Ma. He only conveyed’. I clarified.
It was the day Raj announced our decision to get married, to his parents. Though my parents were aware of the two of us being together since long, but Raj had not shared much with his family.
His father was a diplomat. All their lives, they had mostly lived abroad. Even at the time of the call they were in London. They spoke to me on video call. They, specially his Daadi, praised me, his choice. Daadi was really keen to get him married off before she left for the heavenly abode. She insisted. They took my parents’ number and coaxed us to decide on the earliest possible wedding date as they were planning to come for a month on their annual visit to their ancestral home in Bangalore.
But an hour later after that call, his phone rang again.
That was when he asked.
‘Hey Ragz, Mom is asking for your caste… or gotra …. I do not know what exactly. Guru ji wants to know. Can you just talk to her?’ He handed over the phone to me and got busy with his playstation.
I greeted her and excused myself saying I was not fully aware of such matters and would ask my parents to give the details. I gave the phone back to Raj. It was on speaker mode.
‘What a simple and a shareef girl. If she does not know, that means things must be all right. What a relief!’ I could overhear her. He disconnected the call after an indifferent, ‘Bye, Mom’, and was glued back to his game.
It’s not that I did not know the details that I was asked, by his mother, but I had been instructed by Ma, since my school days, not to share this with anyone. In fact, for this very reason that my father had sold off everything in his ancestral town and severed all links, and shifted to Delhi. He even got our surname changed to ‘Kumar’. He ensured that my upbringing, my education, my society and my job, nowhere was I subjected to this query, and its ramifications. It always seemed to be part of some forgotten world which I was supposed to stay away from. Even with Raj, working in Mumbai for a venture capital fund where everyone was on first name terms, rather on buddy name terms, these issues were never a part of the cosmos. I was called ‘Ragz’. Ma and Baba hated this name. In fact, only after this conversation did I realize his antecedents, which as per my mother, were way above ours.
‘But what about this puja which took place today morning?’ My mother continued. ‘I am really worried. Don’t you remember any other detail, the mantras, or the rituals? Why were we not allowed to attend it? Did you enquire again? I have never heard of any puja at the groom’s place prior to the wedding, and that too, exclusively for the bride-to-be. Never!’
‘Don’t get so paranoid Ma. Now just rush and drape that Banarasi I got for you. They should also know what refined tastes my beautiful mother has.’ I planted a peck on her cheek. It did ease out her frown, but only for the moment.
We reached the banquet hall ten minutes prior the scheduled time. Raj was yet to come. Oh god! I suddenly realized there was a separate and an already crowded stage up front, with an elaborate setting for another religious ceremony. Not again? Living in London, how did they end up being so religious?
Interestingly this stage was cordoned off by rows of marigold garlands fixed at knee length on bamboo sticks. On the left was an empty stage with two hideously golden sofas for the bride and the groom. Looking back at the puja stage I was left wondering how I would adjust my voluminous Indo-fusion gown on that low stool. They should have told me before. May be this time it is only Raj’s puja. But I could see two sets of stools. May be his Mom would be sitting there, for an alternative form of Kanyadaan! Let us see.
As we walked towards them, his family members folded their hands from the stage itself and gestured us to be seated around a row of round tables, on the extreme left side. My gang dutifully adjusted all our guests and the gifts for the ceremony, in the allocated area.
‘Where’s Raj? We will miss the muhurat. His Mom shouted in panic from the stage to the young cousins who were giggling amongst themselves. Nobody from Raj’s family, even those who were not on the puja stage, had come to welcome or greet us, including me, as yet.
‘I am coming, Ma.’
Raj rushed inside the hall dressed in a charming dhoti-kurta outfit. He asked of me how he looked. I noticed that he had matched the colour of his attire with mine. I answered with pride in my eyes.
‘Raj?’ His father interjected our conversation with a frown.
‘Oh, of course’. He responded to him.
Raj came near me and held my hand to escort me to the puja stage. I looked at Ma and exchanged a smile. The moment had arrived. My parents got up, took off their shoes and stepped forward to follow us. We had reached almost till the stage when his father again shot a glance at Raj. He stood frozen. His father fumbled a few syllables and then helplessly, looked first at me, and then Raj.
‘Please do not mind Mrs. Kumar, actually this is an exclusive ceremony only for family members. But immediately after this we will all bless them on the second stage together.’ His mother filled in, for both of them.
‘Of course, we understand.’
My parents silently cringed, but outwardly, walked back and began wearing their shoes, as all eyes in the hall were set on them.
I looked at Raj. All the blood from Raj’s beaming face had disappeared down the drain. He rushed towards them.
‘Arre, you please have a seat. We will be back in a minute. Why should you have to go through the torture of those mantras and the yagna heat?’
He pulled up chairs for them one by one, made them sit, asked the waiter to get cold drinks, hung around till they were served, and then grabbed my hand to go back, avoiding my eyes all this while.
But I was unable to let go of my mother’s eyes. I could see myself in them. All decked up, in a god-knows-what for puja, amidst a new set of people, all smiling. And she sat there, all alone, humiliated, handed over a Pepsi in compensation. I could see an invisible tear which was on the way, but not allowed to flow being dammed behind her self-respect and love for me.
There was a cloud of pretense hanging in the air. Pretense at everything appearing normal when exactly a moment before my family had been shown their place, physically debarred from the ongoing ceremony, a ceremony to manipulate and cleanse her daughter and her credentials, to make her let go of what she was. The worst was that my parents had gamely succumbed to this humiliation only for my happiness. As if even their eyes could sully the purity of the process.
A pretense so hard, that even an ignorant Raj could not miss it.
‘Arre, Mom, please finish this drama quickly. You had promised it would not take more than a minute. All our cousins are waiting to hit the dance floor. Please do not spoil our fun. And no more puja now. Just stop all this.’
Raj, all embarrassed, looked at me. His ears were red hot.
But my eyes could only look at Ma. I waited for the tear to well up. I wanted it to arrive if not as that transparent drop, but at least in those cheeks that would be red hot in anger and disgust. The mother in her did not allow them to surface, however. Instead, they found a way in me.
I could see a hustle in her eyes. I could hear a humiliation in her smile.
(‘Parvati, did not I tell you not to get these friends of yours at the wedding? Just shoo them out, before anyone gets to know.
'Baba, but she is my best friend. We are like sisters.'
'Fine, tell them to have a quick lunch and then leave. Make sure, they do not have it with everyone. Only on the stall outside.'
'But Baba, that is for servants and drivers.'
'If you want your sister’s wedding to go fine, do as I say')
I had not been a witness to the incident. I was never told about this letdown in front of almost the whole town. Their humble fault had been that they had attended my mother’s best friend, Parvati’s wedding.
But suddenly today, at this moment, I could hear loud and clear what had been rankling my parents all their lives. They had dug out everything that had belonged to them in that town and planted themselves in Delhi, never to go back again, never to mention it again. Something in me beckoned me to look at the lunch arrangements. May be separate cutlery is on the way even here, today.
‘Kanya ka gotra?’ I realised Raj was nudging me to pay attention.
‘Oh Pandit ji, we got it changed in the morning. Its ours now.’ His Mom took care of it.
‘Shaadi to shaam ko hai na?’ Pandit ji enquired.
‘Haan, actually Daadi wanted the change done before.’
My mother got up and walked out, hiding herself behind a non-existing phone call. I could hear a smothered sob.
The cloud of pretense had burst. The fog of fake pleasantries had been washed down by the outpourings of what had happened just now.
Hurriedly, we were asked to get up and touch everyone’ s feet. After touching Daadi and his parents’ feet, I ignored the rest of the relatives standing in line and turned towards the garlanded boundary of the stage, in order to go to my parents.
‘Beta, finish it here first. We will wind up the puja and then only you step down from here. Just wait.’ A voice requested.
‘This cannot wait.’ I was firm.
‘I know all this is nonsense. Even my heart does not agree. But can we not just treat it as part of a drama for Daadi ’s sake?’ Raj whispered.
‘Of course, we can, but I am sure after so many pujas I must be cleaner by their standards too. And the touch of my parents won’t be able to sully me further.’
I spoke in a volume loud enough for everyone to not miss it by any chance.
I grabbed Raj ’s hand and rushed to my parents. Much to the stares of the ones standing on the high up pedestal, he looked at his mother from below, while I looked for mine.
I held his face in my hands and asked-
‘You love me. No?’
Wow what a power packed story Ritu, oh God! The feelings were quite powerfully expressed and really loved it