Teatime for the Firefly (12 page)

“So peaceful,” Moon sighed. “I miss this. You have no idea what a big, dirty city Guahati is. It’s full of trucks and diesel smoke.”

“Are you happy, Moon? Married with children and all?” I asked, examining my palm. I had a small splinter lodged in my thumb from the log we were sitting on.

A small goat wandered on the opposite bank, bleating sadly. In the distance, I could see the thatched rooftops of the fishing village amidst clumps of trees and straight areca palms pointing up like arrows to the sky.

“Oh yes.” Moon sighed with contentment. “Ma was very upset when you could not come for my wedding because of your exams. We could not push back the date—the next auspicious date was six months down the road and Jojo’s parents feared he would go on another hunger strike if we waited too long. That man worships me! It’s embarrassing. My in-laws live with us, as you know. They are the sweetest people in the world.”

Moon hugged her knees and rocked, staring dreamily at the water. “Tell me, sister, do you plan to have children right away? Please don’t. That’s my one regret. Anik arrived on the dot, nine months to the day. Thank God, we planned it the second time around and Aesha came four years later.”

“Moon...”

“What?”

“There is something I want to talk to you about.” I faltered and stopped. Then I blurted it out. “I am so scared of...my wedding night.”

She jerked her head and looked at me squarely. “What’s there to be afraid about? You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what to expect. And living with Dadamoshai, you have no idea how little I know about...about these things.”

“You’ve kissed him, haven’t you?”

“The first time I fainted...”

“You
what
?”

“Well, I fainted when he tried to kiss me. It was ridiculous. So no, we did not kiss.”

“But didn’t he visit again?”

“He came twice. Both times it was very formal. Dadamoshai was there. Well, one evening he touched my cheek.”

“Touched your cheek!” Moon squealed with laughter and drummed her feet on the broken shells. “My God, Layla, I don’t even know what to say to you!”

“Did you kiss before you were married?”

“Yes, yes. We were engaged for a whole year, remember? Most of the time we could only meet formally and all—” she rolled her eyes “—but we sneaked out a lot together. And before Jojo, there was another fellow...”

I looked at her, shocked.
“Who?”

“Our neighbor’s son,” Moon said with a wink. “My God, Layla, you’ve known Manik Deb for two and a half years. What have you been doing all this time?”

“Writing letters, exchanging news. Next thing I know he wants to marry me, and I say yes.”

“I bet he can’t wait to do it.”

“I am really scared.”

“What’s there to be scared about? He has a bat, you have a ball. You both play. Simple.”

“Does it hurt?”

“What—
that
?”

I nodded, looking down. I pushed a coconut frond around with my toe in the dirt.

“It’s not like giving birth or anything. It’s more awkward than painful the first time.” She gave me a little prod and giggled. “Relax, will you? Try not to faint. Don’t yell and scream, for God’s sake.”

“I don’t think I can even bear to take my clothes off,” I said miserably.

“Don’t worry—he’ll do it for you, and everything will happen so fast, you won’t even know it. After a few practice rounds you will get the hang of the bat-ball thing and then you both will have a whole lot of fun, believe me.”

I sighed deeply. I hoped she was right.

CHAPTER 16

I awoke at 4:45 a.m. on my wedding day. A thin gray light filtered through the curtain in my bedroom. The house was stirring awake. There were soft voices on the veranda; somebody coughed. I lay in bed, my hand tucked under the pillow, thinking. From this day onward, everything would change. I would be unmoored from my familiar surroundings, set afloat in the world, my fate forever entwined with the life of another.

I thought of Manik Deb. How well did I really know the man I was about to marry? He had held out his hand, and I was ready to forsake the familiar and follow him into the unknown. But had he not done the same? Walked blindly into the unknown world of British tea plantations? There was something heady about taking chances, and I had signed up for the ride.

We would be getting married in Dadamoshai’s school. The wedding ceremony was scheduled for two in the afternoon. As per the plan, Manik would be arriving at eleven. After the wedding he would stay for one night before heading back to Aynakhal. He would come to get me a week later, bag, baggage and all.

Many thought it was strange that he would be arriving alone. There would be no
Borjatri
, the traditional groom’s entourage: a band of laughing men, friends and relatives who buoyed the groom along to his wedding, teasing, cajoling and making silly demands on the bride’s family. This was the custom. Manik’s family had disowned him and refused to come. Alasdair was in Scotland, and Manik’s Calcutta friends had not been able to get away at such short notice. Manik would arrive, not in a flower-bedecked car accompanied by the beating of drums, as was the tradition, but rather in his mud-splattered company jeep. Moon had been put in charge of him. She would take him to Dadamoshai’s school, where Manik’s wedding attire would be kept ready for him. He would freshen up and get changed in one of the classrooms, before meeting the rest of the wedding party in front of the school for the ceremony.

These paltry arrangements were not befitting the status of any groom, rich or poor. The bride’s family treated the bridegroom like royalty. But ours was not a traditional wedding, and Manik was no traditional groom. Everything was a little off-kilter and nothing was according to the norm.

I had another argument with Mima. This time it was over the bridal makeup. Mima insisted I look like a traditional bride, which meant putting on a pancake foundation, doing up my eyes with kohl and having curlicues painted on my forehead with sandalwood paste.

“Please, Mima, I don’t want to look like a clown,” I wailed.

Moon came to my support. “Leave her alone, Ma,” she said. “Layla does not need makeup. She is pretty enough.”

“Clown!
Clown!
” Mima’s voice rose to a crescendo. “Is marriage a laughing matter? You two STOP your foolish talk now. How will people know Layla is the bride if she does not have that finished look?”

To “finish” my look I was turned over to Spinster Aunt, a birdlike woman, with fluttering hands and a thin, reedy voice. She was the bridal-makeup expert in the family and a familiar face at all weddings. Spinster Aunt arrived armed with an arsenal of powder puffs, paint jars, pencils and brushes, and took great pride in transforming every bride into a clown.

“Don’t worry,” Moon whispered in my ear. “She made me look absolutely ghastly at my wedding.”

There was no escape. I sat in my blouse and petticoat, a towel wrapped around my shoulders, and tried not to look at the mirror while Spinster Aunt wreaked her havoc. The foundation made my skin itch.

Spinster Aunt got so carried away with her own artistry that she extended the sandalwood curlicues down my cheeks and even painted a little floral bouquet on my chin.

“Bah. Bah,”
said Spinster Aunt, tilting my chin to admire her handiwork. She clucked appreciatively. “You look deeeevine. Realllly deeevine.”

“Hopefully Manik Deb will recognize you,” Moon said, looking slightly concerned.

Moon was ready and dressed in a beautiful peach
Tanchoi
sari with a heavy gold border embroidered with peacocks. She hardly wore any makeup, just a little kohl in her eyes and a simple
bindi
. A fresh garland of jasmine was twisted casually around her bun. I envied how fresh and lovely she looked.

“I better go see if everything is ready at the school,” she said. “Your Manik Deb will be here in an hour.”

Then she turned and smacked Anik’s hand, snatching away the powder puff he was applying to his face. “SILLY BOY! What are you doing? You have gone and got powder all over your clothes.” Anik’s face was ghostly. He stared back at her balefully through white lashes. He was wearing his customary brown, now liberally dusted with powder. Earlier that morning the whole house had been entertained by the mother-son tirade over Anik’s attire. He had refused to wear the blue kurta-pajama suit Moon had got him for the wedding. Trying to force even one leg into the pajamas had been too much. She had given up in disgust. “Go away from here!” Moon had yelled, flinging his clothes on the floor, while Anik stood stoutly in his underwear, a small but immovable mountain. Soon he was back in his customary brown shirt and pants and buzzing happily around the house. Moon had given him the cold shoulder all morning.

“Come here,
babu-shuna
,” said Spinster Aunt in a sickly endearing voice, “let me at least smooth the powder on your face.
Eh maa, chee-chee
—look what you have done. Powder all over your clothes. No wonder your ma is angry.”

Moon sighed. “Somebody please give this child to the garbage man. I don’t want him.”

“Can I come with you, Ma?” Anik tugged the tail of Moon’s sari.

“You are NOT coming with me. You are NOT going anywhere dressed like a SILLY BOY! Besides, I am NOT talking to you. So BE QUIET!”

She stormed off, with Anik mewing behind her like a dusty kitten. I turned back to the mirror to study my fearful appearance. The face that stared back was not one I remotely recognized. I looked white and painted like a geisha. My hair had been stuffed into a bun of mammoth proportions and held together by a hundred pins that poked into my scalp. My grandmother’s heavy red-and-gold tissue sari had been laid out on the bed with a hideous pile of jewelry I was supposed to wear. It was all quite intolerable.

“My, my,” said Mima, bustling into my room. “Layla-ma, you are looking GOR-GEEE-OUS! Now she looks like a proper bride, don’t you think?” she said, turning to Spinster Aunt. “Shudha, you have not lost your magic touch. You are indeed the true artist in the family.”

Spinster Aunt gave a toothy smile and batted her eyes demurely. “I am rather pleased, if I may say so myself. The sandalwood designs have come out rather fine.”

Mima turned to me. “Layla, you must eat something. I have asked Chaya to make you some banana milk. You can drink it without spoiling your makeup. Remember, it will be a long time before you eat.”

“Thanks, Mima,” I said, giving her hand a little squeeze.
Better to be sensible
, I thought.
We don’t want Fainting Fatima passing out on her wedding day.

* * *

I sat on my bed weighted down by my two-ton sari and jewelry, feeling like a lonely chandelier in an empty mansion. I had only Spinster Aunt for company. Everybody had already gone to the school. Spinster Aunt regaled me with tedious accounts of all the weddings she had attended, what the brides had worn and all the nice things people had said about her artistry. Many relatives had urged her to become a professional beautician. She could charge a hefty fee and do the makeup of theater actresses, they said. Of course she had demurred, claiming she was nothing but an amateur. Her thin voice was beginning to grate on my nerves.

Meanwhile, time was ticking on. Something was wrong. I felt a knot in my stomach; my hives were beginning to act up. The whole house was deathly quiet. I looked at the alarm clock by my bed. It was already one o’clock. I was supposed to be at the school at twelve-thirty. Half an hour late. Why had not someone come to fetch me? The guests must have arrived. I was filled with panic. Did Manik get cold feet? Maybe he had had a terrible accident?

I told Spinster Aunt I needed some quiet time to pray. Being the holy sort, she nodded understandingly and left the room. I closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed, now engulfed by full-blown panic. It was nudging one-fifteen. The school was only a short distance away. I could have easily walked or taken a rickshaw. But I could do nothing dressed the way I was except wait for the car. Besides, the bride was supposed to make a grand entrance. I had been asked to stay put.

The car arrived at one-fifty. I saw Moon sprinting up the path, her sari hitched high, the garland in her hair coming undone.

“Layla! Layla!” she yelled. “Quick!”

“What happened—did he have an accident?”

“Who? Manik? Don’t be an idiot. Quick, hurry up. We are running horribly late.”

“Is he here?”

“Yes, yes, he’s here. Let’s go. Have you got everything? Where is Auntie?”

“What happened?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you later. Everything is fine, groom has arrived, priest has arrived, guests have arrived. Come on, come on. Auntie? AUNTIE! Where
is
that old bat?” Moon ran off to look for her.

I slipped my red
alta
-rimmed feet into my bridal slippers and jangled my way out to the veranda. It was hard to do anything with any semblance of mobility.

Auntie was nowhere to be found.

“I thought she was out on the veranda,” I said.

“We can’t wait for her. Come on, come on, let’s go,” said Moon, taking hold of my elbow. “Walk faster, will you? Hurry, Ma is throwing a fit.”

“Why is everything so late?” I asked, shuffling along, my stiff sari crackling like a wafer.

“Your Manik was late, that’s why.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes. Just as well you are not getting married at the exact auspicious hour. You would have missed your timing and the wedding would be canceled.” The car engine was running, and the driver held the passenger door open. “Here, let me help you get inside. I will lift your sari for you. Are you okay?” She ran and got in from the other side.

“Jaldi! Jaldi,”
she urged the driver in Hindi.
Drive fast!

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was going to get married after all.

Everything after that was a blur. My arrival was heralded with the blowing of conch horns, ululation and the ringing of bells. I dimly remembered the flower-bedecked school porch, strung with garlands of tuberoses and marigold. Somebody had painted
alpana
designs on the floor, and there were rows of guests seated in folded chairs. I caught a glimpse of some familiar faces: the District Commissioner, the Forest Officer and Amrat Singh, the Police Chief, wearing a bright red turban sitting next to his fair, plump wife. There were also other well-known poets, artists and dignitaries—Dadamoshai’s acquaintances, mostly.

I noticed Anik was actually wearing the blue pajama suit that had been picked out by his mother. He had obviously been bribed, evidenced by the brown smear of chocolate all over his face. Then I saw Manik. I hardly recognized him in his flowing silk shirt and pleated dhoti. Manik looked equally surprised to see me—even mildly suspicious, as if maybe the bride had been switched on him.

A small ceremonial area had been set up under the jacaranda tree. The path leading up to it was strewn with rose petals. I approached the small canopied platform accompanied by Moon. I could feel Manik looking at me. When I looked up and caught a glimpse of his face, I was taken aback to see there were several shaving nicks on his chin. What on earth had he shaved himself with on his wedding day? A dagger? I was also slightly disturbed to see his glasses were broken. They were held together with what looked like a piece of tape.

A small hush fell over the congregation as the minister, a Bhramo scholar, read out a Tagore poem, and a gust of wind sent a shower of purple blossoms from the jacaranda tree swirling at our feet. Manik and I exchanged garlands. Our hands were tied together with a string of jasmine. Ladies blew conch shells and threw puffed rice and rose petals.

The rather solemn and eloquent ceremony was momentarily interrupted when a ripple of laughter pulsed through the audience. Anik had got into a kicking fight with a small girl. When his mother shushed him, he pulled down his royal-blue pajamas and exposed himself brazenly to all the dignitaries in the front row. Mima clutched her heart and almost fainted. Anik was hauled off by Moon, kicking and screaming, undoubtedly to some dark dungeon to be spanked soundly. The ceremony then continued without further interruption.

I was constantly aware of Manik’s presence by my side. I felt the warmth of his hand over mine, the brush of his shirtsleeve against my arm. The resonance of his deep voice vibrated through my body as he said his vows.

Finally it was all over. We were led to the flower-bedecked chairs to receive our guests. We touched the feet of our elders, who blessed us with sandalwood, rice husk and
darba
grass. I went through the motions like a sleepwalker, completely devoid of emotions. The long day had begun to take its toll. I barely remembered the wedding lunch.

“Hello, wife,” Manik whispered conspiratorially, halfway through the first course. His breath was warm, and his lips buzzed against my ear. “I can’t wait to be alone with you.”

I felt a tremor of excitement followed by panic. The fatigue of the day was making my head swim.
Please, dear God
, I prayed,
please don’t let me faint—that’s all I ask.

* * *

Dadamoshai’s old bedroom was turned into the nuptial chamber. It had been cleared and aired, the double bed canopied with long tuberose and jasmine garlands that trailed down to the floor. The cream-colored bedspread was strewn with red rose petals. On a table there was an engraved brass bowl with white lotus flowers floating within it and a peacock-shaped incense burner in the middle. The air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood and flowers.