Chapter 9
Wedding Scenes
My reflection was gazing back at me quizzically as I blinked at myself in the mirror and was slightly astounded. Okay, very.
After some wheedling, I'd relaxed into this nice, cushiony sofa for a few minutes while the attendant of Rasika beauty parlour had dusted and dabbed with brushes and sponges, which I might add, was very soothing.
I didn't even have a dime worthy experience with makeup except with my sister's rose lip gloss that I squiggled onto my sketchbook for some aesthetic art and then earned an earful from her.
But even I could recognize that I looked like a mime artist. I didn't know what was with this beauty industry that was always trying to bleach all of us milky white.
I tilted my chin up to my self-pleased attendant, "Isn't this foundation too light for me?"
"Please, it's beautiful! And I didn't even apply that much for you," She placed her perfectly manicured hands on my shoulder to reassure me.
Okay, let me rephrase this.
"Don't you have a shade for wheatish skin?"
"This is your shade."
"Oh,okay cool," I reclined back in my seat and waited for her to turn away before I seized a few wipes and escaped to the washroom which was already too crowded with aunties fixing their sarees.The basin accommodated assortments of safety pins, banana clips and colourful sticker bindi sets.I squeezed myself inside for a square inch of the mirror, while fiddling with the skirts of my wine lehenga. I scrubbed every nook and corner of my visage until the white paint had dissipated.
My mother's bottle of moisturiser seemed like a better alternative. I let the magenta lipstick stay.
If my friends tease me too much, I'll wipe it off with my hanky.
I took a few steps to wander to the other rooms, almost tripping over my skirt.
The parlour attendants were probably amusing themselves by observing me fiddling with my dupatta.
My parents disappeared and all I could see was Siya who was standing like a mannequin while the three attendants were buzzing around her to drape a long sari over her slim frame.
From the French window, I could see the hints of a new day, the sky melting into a lighter sea blue. The lawn was covered in clay lamps arranged together so as to form a pretty pattern.
I stifled a yawn. Despite the hot shower I took to awaken my senses, waking up at 4:00 am made me slightly groggy.
I trudged out of the room and some strings of flowers obstructed my view. Pushing them aside, my eyes wandered to look for my parents. Instead, I faced rows of empty chairs, it was a little early for the guests to file in. Only my close relatives were chattering happily on the stage while the workers moved the life-size heart made of paper flowers backstage to bring out later with a flourish.
I looked admiringly at the long strings of yellow and orange flowers that dangled from the pillars. Hmm.
I shouldn't probably be fooling around at my sister's wedding, but there was nothing much I could do now except assembling behind my parents and greeting the groom's collection of relations with bright artificial smiles and then shake a leg then and there in the road along with some semi-strangers. No sweat.
I felt like Harish was asleep on the horse as it is, looking oblivious to his brother flailing his arms like a chicken to the music of the dhol.
I simply folded my hands and waited for the traditional welcome of the groom who finally alighted from the horse with a big excited smile as if he was on a bouncy castle in Disney Land.
The oldest lady in my family was nominated to circle the aarthi plate and apply red tilak on his forehead. She had a satisfied smile on her face that everything was going according to tradition.
Another bizarre so-called tradition that I could recollect from my endless string of marriage visitations as a child was carrying the bride in a huge wicker basket into the wedding canopy which they recently snipped off from the rituals recently because it objectified women by just delivering her like a courier parcel good to the boy. And I'm glad they did.
Fisting my long skirt, I attempted to take two steps before I bumped into someone. This was irritating now.
I glanced up, pushing my hair off my forehead. David glanced at me and let out a low whistle.
"You clean up pretty well, missy."
"Thanks.I wish I could say the same of you," I bit back and he chuckled. I wouldn't have been surprised if he turned up in his weird neon Chicago Bulls jersey. I was slightly impressed that he had combed his hairs back and was sporting a bluish blazer, "I like your outfit though."
He shrugged, "Thanks, it was lying around in my closet for a long time and my mom forced me into it."
That's when I noticed my friends standing near the entrance, waving at me with a cheeky grin.
I excused myself from David before navigating to my friends with my uncooperative lehenga skirt.
"Guys, I'm so glad you came! I would have been bored to death!" I told and Sanya grabbed a welcome drink from the table.
"No problem. By the way, I saw him!" She said with a sparkle in her eyes. I gazed into the direction of her glance where I could see a silhouette with a camera in hand, clicking away at Saloni.
"Saw whom?" Kayal asked confused.
"No one. I mean, Harish. My brother in law," I said and gave a nudge into Sanya's side.
"Oof! Got it!" She held up a thumbs-up signal and massaged her ribs.
I looked back hesitantly at the entrance where I was supposed to stand and sprinkle rose water on every unassuming passerby.
Obviously my friends were obliged to sit with me and comment on every guest passing by our noses.
"One young guy at last. I was starting to think that your relatives comprised mostly of potbellied uncles, "Kayal mumbled under her breath and I glanced at the person who was sauntering lazily from the drinks table.
I felt a little pinch in my chest, just watching him walk towards me. (I think I might need some Gelusil.)
"Hi," I spoke a little breathlessly. I've never seen Kabir wear anything ethnic. What can I say, just like me, he followed the Comfort-is-style mantra but for the first time he looked straight out of those Royal Amar Chitra Katha comics.
He gave me a slow once over, looking as if he was legit surprised that I could play dress-up once in a while.
We both had nothing to say for a split moment, simply gazing at each other.
"Hmmm..." He mused, pretending to inspect my clothes and then offered me his boyish smile. He was hard to miss, looking strikingly charming in a brown kurta pyjama that somehow matched his mocha eyes.
He leaned over to pick up the candy from the plate but I heard him.
"Now I can't even tell you what I think because it won't be an appropriate comment for a friend...Oh, well..."
He leaned back and popped a candy into his mouth. "These lovely girls are...?"
"We're friends from school," Nishika said. "I didn't know Shyla had a cousin our age. Where do you live?"
Kabir looked at me expectantly and raised an eyebrow.
"No, he's her boyf--" Sanya began and I stamped her foot, not too hard but enough to shut her mouth.
"Our parents are good friends," I said hurriedly, "We live close by."
I recognised a shimmer of hurt in his eyes.
"I mean all of us are..."
"Right," Kabir said, nodding to himself, "Parents are friends, so we just have to tolerate each other once in a while, right Shyla?"
"I know how that feels," Nishika said, immune to the tension in the air, "I've put up with some pretty irritating toddlers who rummage through my stuff just because we are neighbours."
" Kabir!" I called out but he'd already disappeared into the crowd.
Sanya threw me an accusing stare and Kayal's hawk eyes seemed to have recognised something but she chose not to comment.
I sighed and methodically sprinkled some water onto the next guest who was looking at me quizzically.
I almost dropped the little sprinkler recognizing the buff built and the familiar spaghetti-like hair. My sister's ex-boyfriend was poised calmly before us, his burly figure shielding any possible ray of light. My heart skipped several beats.
"I've seen you somewhere." He breathed and I realised that he reeked a little of alcohol. Though I was slightly relieved that he didn't recognize me, I couldn't say the same of Siya.
Was he going to stop the marriage dramatically like in those old Tollywood films?
"Er, no I don't think--"
"Whaadever," He muttered and scanned the hall.
"Are you looking for someone?" I quaked.
"Anusha. She told me to meet her here. You know her?"
My jaw almost dropped. "You're Aslam?"
Was there some kind of supply crisis for the male species that I wasn't aware of? How could both friends pick the same douche?
His brows furrowed. "How do you know that?"
I recovered quickly and swept my gaze quickly on the stage focusing on a lone pleased-as-punch Harish Chaturvedi. I looked back on the man before me with a polite smile:"Because she was searching for you! She's in charge of serving tiffin for the guests so..."
Just to keep the rogue as far away from Siya as possible.
"And where on earth is that?"
"Oh, that's downstairs!" I replied readily as rehearsed in my head. "Would you want me to show you out there?"
He made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "I can go by myself, I'm not some illish--illic--illeeterate bastard, okay?"
"Of course sir."
I watched him drag his feet outside and I turned to the trio who were fussing with the flowers.
"Girls, can you please take charge until I lead this gentleman to his destination?"
Without waiting for a reply, I dashed to the back staircase and followed him down, almost tripping against my skirt once, and then again.
I watched him enter the dining and saunter slowly inside.
His drunkenness didn't mean that he was not in his senses. His sharp eyes were trying their best to focus on each and everything we were passing by.
He muttered something to himself and opened and closed doors.
He tripped on the mat into the pantry and I heard him mutter a few curses.
Before he could react, I instinctively swung the door shut and latched it firmly.
"Hey, what are you doing outside? Is this some silly prank?"He pounded so hard on the door that I thought it would break and he'd come out and strangle me in one of his large hands like a chicken.
But the pantry's steel doors stood rigidly in its place.
Hail steel doors!
If I let this guy out, he'd come out and cause a ruckus if he sees Siya.
But how long could I keep him here?
I locked up a dangerous weirdo in the pantry! I'm officially insane!
While I paced back and forth, I heard him dialling what I hopefully assumed not to be Anusha. "Where the fuck are you, I'm...stuck here in some stupid warehouse!"
Warehouse? Wow, bro was brainier than I'd imagined.
His voice rose a few octaves and then simmered down into a low menacing growl. I heard footsteps fading, probably stepping away from the door, looking for any loopholes for escape.
I sighed and leaned on the door when I noticed a short man in a dhoti and a sweaty vest staring at me.
"Can you please move?" He asked with a lilting smile.
I moved closer to the door, giving him room to go past me.
"No, no here," He smiled again pointing at the pantry.
My eyes narrowed defensively. "Why...? You want something?" I sputtered and he looked a little surprised.
Then, slowly his expression melted into another blissful smile, probably reminding himself to be polite with customers.
"Ji, I will take that one ghee bottle from the cabinet, sir asked for extra ghee on his dosa."
"He'll live," I mumbled.
"What?" Then he chuckled as if he was talking to a child.
"No, ji, that one ghee bottle, I'll take fastly. Then you can be here, I'll not disturb you. You see, the customer is aski--"
"Ya, ya extra ghee on his dosa. I heard. But there's no ghee in here actually."
He blinked.
Okay, lying to the caterer about the contents of his pantry is probably not a good idea.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Our arguing probably perked up Aslam now.
The short man looked surprised but still managed to remain polite. "Is some person inside? Are you children playing hide and seek?"
"Er, no, my brother was walking this way and his gold ring rolled into the pantry. So he told me to lock him outside and let him look for it."
"AYE, I'LL COME OUT AND KILL Y'ALL SUCKERS!" Aslam hollered.
I offered a sad smile to my companion who just jerked in his place, "He's really upset. He had such an emotional connection with that ring. It was my amamma's.I hope you understand."
He hesitated and then told that he'd come back in a few minutes and even later ask his workers to help find the ring.
One polite pest left and another one was coming my way in a blood-red ghagra and glittery makeup.
So he did call Anusha.
I noiselessly pulled the door latch to it's original position while Aslam continued to bang the door and disappeared into the back staircase.
"What the... You locked me in?" He growled when his girlfriend curiously swung it open.
"Where was it locked you fool? If you get drunk early in the morning this is how you'll behave."
I took a few quick breaths in the landing of the staircase after watching the duo argue in hushed voices.
Kayal whistled from inside the window. "What are you up to?"
"Kayal!" I exclaimed like she was the only oasis in the desert.
"You guys can actually have your breakfast and come."
"I did have some cornflakes at home but no problem with that, " Nishika shrugged.
I pulled Kayal aside. "When you go to the dining, you'll see this girl in a red ghagra with the guy who just came to the reception. Tell them..." I took a breath and then sighed.
"Okay, ask her politely if she's Anusha and tell her that.....That um, her family is here and they're looking for her, go, go, go!"
"Okayy, I guess," Kayal replied, confused. "Who was that drunk anyway?"
"My sister's ex."
Not acknowledging her shocked Pikachu face, I pushed her down the stairs.
I tottered back to the stage and positioned myself between my parents. Siya had already debuted into the mandap and I held one end of the thin silk veil between her fiancé and herself.
Siya was elegantly dressed in a royal blue brocade saree and managed to lower her eyes with a false sense of demure femininity. And the heavy chunky jewellery on her neck ensured that she wouldn't lift her head up to the sky for the next decade.
The priest began to chant mantras while I shifted to my right foot impatiently.
When the final leg of the ceremony was done, I sprinkled my handful of rice grains before getting off the stage.
I accidentally bumped into a few relatives on my way, my mother's relatives from the States.
They'd come a little later than they should and everyone looked too well-groomed and polished for me to imagine them eating sambar vada on a banana leaf downstairs. My cousins had cool, distant looks on their faces and headphone wires leading down to God knows where. They had snide smiles on their faces when they greeted me and I gave a stiff nod, observing their high and mighty attitude. Why, NRIs were much nicer in Mr.Johar's films.
"Mumma is in the dressing room," I quipped and smoothly untangled myself from the conversation.
I noticed a flash of shimmery brown.
Aha, there he was slithering away...With Saloni.
"Hi, Saloni!" I chirped with a sunny optimistic smile all over my face, alarming the two siblings a little.
Kabir glanced at me and his smiling face morphed into an almost morose blank mask and he stalked away leaving both of us to ourselves.
"Hi, you look soooo pretty, " Saloni squealed.
"Thanks," I replied drily, inconspicuously glancing after my victim.
"So....."
"So?"
"You will never guess what happened in college! Ohmigod it was so funny, I've been wanting to tell you! Shirin was cracking jokes in class and I was laughing and laug--You know Shirin right? I mean, Shirin, my twin sister? I told you, no? We're sooo alike, we do everything together that people thought we were twins or something and then we both became thick besties. People were jealous and all, but whatever. Anyways, she's so funny that day, the prof turned away to the board and she was commenting about stuff--I don't remember actually but I was laughing and laughing--Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you one more thing before that! You know this one girl I was talking about who kind of knows Hrithik Roshan and all. I don't really know what she means by 'kind of knows' but she just told me that day that they met, you know their family met him. He was wearing a red shirt it seems. Redshirt and jeans I think. I mean I don't think that Hrithik is the type who wears red and all, she's probably just bluffing but it's okay. I mean, why do we need to bother? So I just didn't say anything. But then, afterwards, she actually came up to me in the afternoon, I was sitting in this one plastic bench and she just came and asked me why I didn't say anything. You know I'm very reserved, right? I mean, I don't like to talk much when I don't have to, so I just told her that I didn't feel like commenting. And then she goes on and tells me that I sound fake! I really don't know why I--That time I even got my Physics paper and I passed, and she gave one weird comment about me passing after a long time. I mean, you yourself tell me; is that what friendship is?"
"Oh," I answered, "Yes, yes."