The Wedding Tamasha | PUBLISHED

Chapter 3

'Where are you, my dear? How many times I've tried to call you!' Keertana said, her tone anxious.

Shweta's heart dipped. 'Many times? When? What's wrong? What happened to Papa? Is everything ok?'

Her mother tsk-tsked. 'Nothing's wrong except you're talking faster than a jet. Slow down. Papa is absolutely fine.'

Shweta let out a sigh of relief. Her mother probably thought nothing about the scare she'd caused from thousands of miles away in India.

'Are you there?' her mother's voice cut into her thoughts.

'Yes, Ma. Why did you call?'

'There is good news! Didn't I tell you Kini told us that there would be good news?'

'What news?'

'Simbu and Lekha have decided to get married.'

'What? When?' Her brother was getting married?

Keertana continued, 'This December. Simbu called us just a little while ago. Your Papa and I haven't been off the phone since. You'd better plan your tickets in advance. Can you be here by early December and let Raj join us closer to the wedding date. I can't believe we're going to have another wedding this year—'

This was going to be a nightmare. 'Ma, how can you have two weddings in one year? That's crazy.'

'That's what Simbu wants. And why delay it now? Lekha and he have been together for two years. It's fair to give them the wedding they've been waiting for, right? Can't believe I'll see you again in December.'

Shweta scowled. 'You don't get it, Ma. I just got here a few months ago. It costs a lot to fly back and forth. Can't you ask Simbu to make it next year during the summer? That way, all the cousins and their kids too can join, during their school holidays.'

Keertana humphed. 'Don't be silly. And as if that's up to me. Simbu says Lekha's tired of waiting. And if your father says ok, it means ok.'

Shweta walked back to the dumpster not hearing any of the rest.

Her head spun with many terrible thoughts. Most of them being: December. December. December? The word struck a cacophonous gong in her brain. And it was impossible to shut it off. It was September already. And she wasn't prepared to return to India so soon.

'Can you come as early as you can?' Her mother asked again.

***

The next morning, in India, Prabhakaran Menon, or Prabhu as he was known, was sprawled on his easy chair, his legs propped on a foot stool, his glasses perched over his nose, and a pipe stuck between his lips, out of which a curl of smoke spiralled upwards.

He was peering into the Economic Times when Keertana brought in his customary tea at seven a.m. Abruptly, he put the paper down with a frown.

'What are you so unhappy about today?' she asked.

He pulled his pipe out and folded the newspaper. 'The market is still down. My equity is not doing well and I'm worried about the upcoming marriage expenses.'

Keertana's brow furrowed. 'Who knew we'd have two marriages in the same year? In any case, Simbu should be able to take on some of the wedding expenses himself. He's a boy after all and he's been working for a long time now.'

'What are you talking about?' Prabhu took his feet off the footstool and planted them on the ground. 'Ask my son to pay for his wedding?! Are you out of your mind? As long as I'm alive and doing well, that's never going to happen. First we let him marry a girl of his choice and then we make him pay for it! Impossible!' Prabhu yelled, glaring at Keertana.

She pulled a chair close to him. 'Think about it. You're not keeping so well these days. Expenses are mounting. The medicines and—'

'Nonsense,' Prabhu said, rising from his chair. 'My father made sure all of my six sisters were married off well, and with dowries, and my marriage was held in the grandest style, by the standards of those times. If my brothers-in-law heard of this, what would they think?'

'Oh, sit down,' Keertana said, tugging at his hand. 'The doctor has asked you not to take on too much stress. Why are we fighting over nothing? If you're not comfortable, do whatever you like. But I'm a little overwhelmed by the suddenness of everything. It seems like only yesterday that we got Shweta married. It's hardly been three months. Shweta was right. Simbu should have waited a little more.'

Prabhu settled back into his chair. 'He's waited enough,' he said, reaching for his pipe again. Seeing that the flame had died, he began to pinch and fill more tobacco from the pouch and then stretched to reach for the match. 'He's waited so long for Shweta to get married. You think his girl, Lekha, is going to wait forever?'

Keertana pulled the match from his hand, leaving him bewildered. 'How many times has the doctor told you to cut back on smoking? You're going to ruin your health. At least think of the wedding in a few months. Do you want to go back to the hospital?'

'One heart attack is not the end of the world. People I know have implanted six or seven stents and are still fine. I'm sixty-five, too old to be dying young.'

Keertana rose from her chair. 'I wish we'd talk about something other than death and bad finances. It makes such a terrible start to my day. I'm going for a walk, and after you're done with your papers, I think you should go for a walk too or do a bit of yoga. Neha's been asking me if you're practicing what she taught you.'

Prabhu grunted and buried his face in another newspaper. Keertana humphed and walked away.

***

By then, in the US, it was closing time at Julie's café. Shweta had been on her feet since morning and had had absolutely no time to think any more about her mother's call. The mad rush at the café wound down at closing time. Max, who was usually the last to leave, was however, nowhere to be seen.

Just then there was a commotion outside. Shweta and Julie ran out to see what it was.

In the parking lot, Max and a man were in a heated argument. Suddenly the man threw a punch on Max's face that landed on his nose.

'Argh!' Max screamed, clutching his bleeding nose. Before he could see it coming, another punch hurtled towards his jaw. Max turned around and socked the man's eye. 'It wasn't me,' he cried, locking arms with the man.

The man kicked his knees and Max collapsed on the floor. Before he could pick himself up, another hard blow landed on his ribs. Max doubled over and curled into a ball, groaning with pain.

The man was about to lift his leg to kick him again when Julie shouted, 'Stop it or I'll call the police.'

As Max writhed on the floor in agony, the man yelled, 'You deserve it!' He kicked him one last time in the stomach and bolted down the alleyway.

Julie and Shweta ran towards Max and lifted him up, grabbing him by the shoulders from both sides.

'We should take him to the hospital,' Julie said.

'Hold on, I'm good,' Max said, hobbling inside with their help. 'I'm not going anywhere. I'll be fine by tomorrow.'

'Get my keys, we're going to the hospital,' Julie said firmly.