2 States The Story Of My Marriage (39 page)

I can’t really call the party Rajji mama organized for me as a bachelor’s party,
especially since all my aunts were present. However, the makeshift arrangements

gave it a single-guy-bash feel. Rajji mama had come back with two bottles of

whisky, one bottle of vodka and a crate of beer. Kamla aunty also brought chips

and juice for the ladies.

‘Let the ladies also have a drink tonight,’ Rajji mama proclaimed as many

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aunties feigned horror. My cousins had already booked the vodka bottle.

‘Ice,’ Rajji mama told a waiter at the hotel and gave him hundred bucks. He

returned with a bucketful.

‘You have a music system?’ Rajji mama asked the waiter. The waiter agreed to

borrow one from his friend for another hundred bucks. The choice of music was a

challenge though, and we had to limit ourselves to the soundtracks of the movies

Roja and Gentleman. The lyrics were Tamil but at least the tunes were familiar.

‘After two drinks, you will be able to understand the Tamil words also,’ Rajji

mama said.

The men took Room 301, my room. The women went to 302, while the teenage

and young cousins were in 303. The under-thirteens stayed in 304, watching

cartoon channels on cableTV. The under-fives and over seventy-fives were

cooped up in 305, the latter babysitting the former.

Rajji mama kept shuttling from 301 to 302, to gossip with the ladies and

discuss stocks and real estate with the men in 301.

‘It’s eleven,’ I reminded my relatives, ‘We should sleep,’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Rajji mama said and hugged me happily. ‘If we sleep now, we

won’t wake up at all. Let’s keep going until morning.’

The party continued and rooms 301,302 and 303 turned into discos. The Indian

soundtrack was played five times. I realized if my relatives didn’t sleep, we may

never make it to the wedding. I went down to the lobby at half past midnight.

‘Call the cops,’ I told the front desk.

‘What?’ the manager said, ‘You are the groom.’

‘Yes, and I have a six-thirty muhurtham. I need to be there at five with all of
them. There are in no mood to rest.’

The manager laughed. Rajji mama had bribed him well. ‘Don’t worry, sir, I will

stop them in half an hour.’

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A car stopped outside the hotel just then and a person stepped out. Even in

the darkness I could tell who it was. I immediately sprinted up the stairs, my heart
beating fast. Rajji mama was close-dancing with Kamla aunty in 302 to a sad song

from Roja.

‘My dad’s here,’ I announced.

In two minutes flat, our nightclubs shut down as if there was a police raid.

Everyone went into their rooms to sleep. The corridor was stark silent as my dad

climbed up to the third floor.

‘Dad,’ I said.

We looked at each other for a few seconds. He had decided to come, after all. I
couldn’t think beyond that fact. I didn’t push him for a reason either. He was like

me; we Indian men don’t do emotions too well.

‘You haven’t slept? Aren’t you getting married in a few hours?’ he asked mildly.

I didn’t respond. He walked towards 301. I stopped him. The last thing I wanted
him to see was the debauchery of my maternal uncles.

‘There are more rooms upstairs. This one needs repairs,’ I said and took him to
the next floor. I left him there to change. My mother was in 301, trying to clean it
as fast as possible.

‘It’s fine, he is upstairs,’ I said.

‘What’s he doing here?’ my mother said, ‘He’s come to create trouble?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘He’s fine. He came to attend my wedding.’

‘Now? He has come now?’

‘It’s OK, mom, you go to bed. I’ll tell him you are asleep,’ I said I kissed my
mother on the cheek and went up.

My father had changed into a white kurta pajama.

‘Thank you, dad,’ I said.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘Where’s your mother?’

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‘Everyone slept early. We have to wake up at four,’ I said.

‘Oh, I’m keeping you up. Are you sleeping here?’

I nodded and switched off the lights. I lay down next to only him, probably for
the first time in twenty years.

‘I love you, son,’ he said, his eyes closed.

I choked up. The words meant as much as to me as when Ananya had said

them the first time.

‘I love you too,’ I said, and wondered which love story I was really chasing

anyway.

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62

I had to pour mugfuls of water over their face to wake up my relatives. Rajji mama

had a severe hangover. I had slept only three hours and had a splitting headache.

We asked room service for triple strength coffee.

‘This is inhuman, how can they get married at this time?’ my mother said. She

opened her suitcase to take out her new sari for the occasion.

Ananya’s father had sent a bus to our hotel for the two-hundred-metre journey.

I waited outside while every female in my clan blow-dried hair and applied

lipstick. Panic calls started at five-fifteen.

‘The priests had lit the fire. Chants have begun,’ Ananya’s father said.

‘Two more old ladies, coming real soon,’ I said and hung up the phone.

We reached the mandapam at five-thirty. Ananya’s relatives had already taken

the best seats. I waded through them to sit in front of the priests.

‘The mother sits here,’ the priest said,’ and if the father is not there then a
senior male relative…’

‘My father is here,’ I said.

Ananya’s parents sprang up from their seats. ‘Welcome,’ Ananya’s father said,

‘How is your fever?’

‘What fever?’ my father said as he took his place.

The priests continued their fervent chants. Rajji mama passed on Saridon

strips as everyone with a hangover took a pill. Ananya’s uncles passed copies of

The Hindu to each other as they continued to gather knowledge through the

wedding.

‘Come, Krish,’ Ananya’s father said after five minutes of prayers.

‘What?’

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‘You have to change. I am supposed to help you’ he said matter-of-factly.

I had worn a new rust-colored silk kurta pajama my mother had bought for me.

‘This doesn’t work?’ I said.

Ananya giggled. Ananya’s father shook his head and stood up. I followed him

to the room next to the main hall. He ominously bolted the door. ‘Take off your

clothes,’ he said.

‘What?’ I said as he fingered my kurta’s hem to help me take it off.

‘I will do it myself,’ I said hastily. I removed my kurta.

‘Pajama also,’ he said, reminding me of my college ragging days.

‘Is this necessary?’ I snapped, wondering if my strip-tease would make the

mantras more effective.

He didn’t respond. His hands were about to reach my pajama cord when I

decided to get rid of my modesty myself. I had worn a white underwear with

Mickey Mouses prancing all over it.

‘Why are you wearing… this?”

I had brought a pack of six Disney-themed underwear. Considering I was going

to get married and Ananya like cartoon characters, I had thought she’d find it

cute. Of course, I couldn’t give this reason to my future father-in-law.

‘How was I to know it will be on display?’ I said.

Ananya’s dad had worried expression.

‘Why, what’s wrong?’ I said.

‘You have to wear this veshti,’ Ananya’s dad said and gave to me a translucent

cream-colored lungi. It resembled the bathing dress worn by Mandakini in Ram

Teri Ganga Maili.

‘I have to wear this? How?’ I held it up. The early morning rays came right

through it.

‘Come, I’ll show you,’ Ananya’s dad said, and horror of horrors, tucked half his
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hand into my underwear. I wondered if a groom can sue his father-in-law for

molestation.

‘Please, let me try first,’ I said. Of course, out of nervousness I couldn’t focus. The
veshti kept slipping and I stood there in my Mickey Mouse underwear, almost in

tears.

‘Allow me, it will take only a minute,’ Ananya’s father said gently, like a doctor

convincing a kid for an injection.

I closed my eyes. This is the absolute last, last humiliation I will go through to get the
love of my life, I thought. A few hours more and this will be over. Uncle’s hand

came close for comfort as he tried to ensure a snug fit. Some say this ceremony

is designed to ensure that the groom has his equipment in place. Well, he surely

did a good job finding out.

‘Are we done?’ I said as uncle adjusted the final pleats.

I saw myself in the mirror. My first topless meeting with the world was about to
take place. Little Mickey Mouses were grinning through my Translucent veshti.

OK, it is only for a little while more, I told myself.

‘See, now all your wedding pictures will have Mickey Mouse,’ uncle said,

confirming that my humiliation would continue for the rest of my life.

‘Do you want to change your underwear? You can wear mine. Should we

exchange? He asked.

I looked at him, wondering if he actually said what he just said. ‘Let’s go. I
have to get married.’

We came outside and my cousins burst into laughter when they saw me.

‘Mickey Mouse,’ my five-year-old cousin screamed, ensuring that all guests

would now freely spot it.

Ananya sat in a gorgeous nine-yard dark silk sari. She wore diamond and gold

necklaces. She looked like an accessible goddess.

‘What’s with the underwear?’ she whispered to me.

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‘I bought it for you …. I mean us,’ I said.

‘Excuse me?’ she said as the priest scolded us for talking and asked to focus

on the prayers. Someone tied a scarf over my eyes so I couldn’t see anything for

ten minutes as prayers continued. It could be the punishment for talking to the

bride during the wedding, but no one explained why. Prayers continued even after

the scarf was removed.

‘OK, now you go for Kashi Yatra,’ the priest said after an hour. He gave me an

umbrella and a copy of the Gita.

‘What’s that?’ I said.

Ananya’s father gave me the details. I had to stand up and announce I wasn’t

interested in the wedding and was going to Kashi, or Varanasi, to become a

sadhu. I didn’t know why they gave me an umbrella, but I had to open it and place

it over my head as I walked out. Ananya’s father would come after me and

convince me that I should marry his daughter instead.

I decided to do an extra good job with this ceremony, especially as I had

messed up with the veshti. I stood up, gave Ananya’s parents a disgusted look

and sprinted out of the hall. Ananya’s father followed me but I walked way faster

than him. I came to the main road outside the hall. I walked on to the street. An

auti saw me and came near me.

‘Where, where? He said, his engine still sputtering in first gear.

‘Kashi,’ I said.

‘Kashi where?’ he said.

‘Varanasi, in U.P.,’ I said.

‘Central Station? Seventy rupees, sir,’ he said.

I turned over and saw Ananya’s dad twenty metres behind me. Well, you only

get married once, so I decided to do the best Kashi Yatra ceremony ever.

I sat inside the auto. The auto sped off.

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‘Hey,’ Ananya’s dad screamed at full volume.

‘Who’s that?’ the auto driver said.

‘Nothing,’ I said, ‘stop.’

I came out of the auto, Ananya’s father came running to me.

‘What are you doing?’ he said, panting after the jog.

‘Going to Kashi,’ I said and smiled, ‘you didn’t tell me when to stop.’

He grabbed my arm tight. ‘Come inside,’ he said, dragging me towards the

mandapam.

‘Hey, aren’t you supposed to convince me?’ I said.

We had some more Tamil ceremonies. We had Maalai Maatral, which involved

an exchange of garlands like the Punjabi jaimala. However, Ananya’s relatives

lifted her high, making it difficult for me to reach her head. My own relatives took
a while to realise that it was only a game and almost got into a fight with one of

Ananya’s uncles. After that, we had Oonjal where Ananya and I sat on a swing as

her relatives fed us small pieces of banana soaked in milk. Finally, we came back

to sit around the fire. Ananya sat on her father’s lap for the final kanyadaan.

‘Yes,’ I whispered to myself, ‘it’s almost over.’