‘Jaishree…Jaishree Bose. How does that sound?’ asked Souvik, teasing.
‘Boss!You’ve already made her a Bose!’ Vyas said, chiming in with a laugh. The boys were lounging in Souvik’sroom.
‘So where will you both stay?’ asked Ankur trying to sound casual. The idea of a secret wedding with no parents involved somehow still freaked him out.
‘We will be renting a paying guest accommodation.’ Souvik said taking a deep breath. It seemed like he was preparing for the next volley of questions. And sure enough he was not disappointed.
‘But why not tell at least your side of the family?’ asked Vyas concerned. Ever since his own tragic love story,Vyas was cautious of arrangements that were carried out clandestinely.
‘Ma will approve of Jaishree, I know it,’ Souvik asserted, as if more to himself. ‘And as for rest of the family, I don’t give a shit,’ he added slightly agitated. Souvik rarely used swear words, so when he did, he was serious. But looking at the still uncertain faces around him Souvik explained. ‘I’ve worked really hard this year, so I know I’ll get a job. Same goes for Jaishree. Once we start earning and can support ourselves, it hardly matters what the interfering relatives have to say,’ Souvik completed, his sense of reasoning working overtime.
‘But what about your plans of going abroad?’ Ankur asked gently.
‘I’ll go. Someday. If I go abroad now, I’ll return to find Jaishree married with kids who’ll call me uncle!’ Souvik said in a hopeless tone without the least intention of sounding funny. But Pavan still giggled.
‘But that’s silly!’ Vyas declared, ‘Jaishree doesn’t have to get married immediately. Why can’t she stand up to her family?’
‘Why don’t I stand up to mine?’ Souvik asked quite logically. For a change Ankur agreed with him. It was indeed a bold step. And though it was not particularly practical, Ankur suddenly wanted to congratulate Souvik. For being so clear of what he wanted from life and for standing by the woman he loved.
‘Enough guys!’ Souvik finally stated. ‘I’ve weighed the pros and the cons very carefully. Besides,’ he added in a rather solemn voice, ‘Ma is not keeping too well again…I want her to see her daughter-in-law before her health starts failing again…’
Forty-Four
A house is not one’s home, only one’s wife is one’s home
.
The line from the
Shanti Parva
an ancient Hindu text, pervaded the place.
Ankur, like the others, sat in solemn silence as they watched Souvik and Jaishree take the seven holy rounds around the sacred fire. Arya Samaj wedding or court marriage? The debate that had been raging for a week had finally been settled.
Souvik and Jaishree were having a simple temple wedding at four in the morning. More specifically 3:55 am; auspicious Brahma mahurat after all. Ankur turned to look at Sonali who intently followed every ritual during the wedding. At least she was sitting quietly.
For the past one week Sonali Shah had been in a tizzy. Her emotions ranged from plain horror to orgasmic delight. And a never ending conspiratory giggle. Each time Ankur spoke to her, Sonali would keep gushing of how she still couldn’t believe the news. Jaishree Subramaniam was getting married! Jaishree, her bench mate and closest friend. Sonali could only keep clapping and giggling alternately. Even when she accompanied Ankur to a government run registration office, or went sari shopping with Jaishree.
‘Chilka what?’ asked Ankur both puzzled and amused.
‘
Chilkalabellum
,’ Sonali repeated. ‘It’s a Telugu word.’
Ankur’s vernacular vocabulary was rather limited so he waited to be enlightened further.
‘
Chilkalabellum
,’ Sonali repeated the tongue twister, ‘is a mixture or rather a small flattened ball of jaggery and turmeric that the bride has stuck on her head. It’s a Telugu custom.’
‘But I thought Jaishree was a Tamilian,’ Ankur enquired a little confused.
‘Yeah, but the priest is a Telugu!’ Sonali corrected.
‘Wow!And all along I thought Jaishree was getting married to Souvik!’ Ankur stated grinning, tongue in cheek.
Sonali simply flashed him one of her semi-amused expressions. The wedding ceremony had been going on for almost two hours now. Ankur was getting fidgety.
The early morning sun was yet to rise, but Pavan’s vocal chords were already up and awake. He kept giving a steady running commentary as he sat next to Vyas who was desperately controlling the urge to spread out and yawn.
Vyas had to, at all cost, prevent any such catastrophe from occurring as he sat just outside the mandap watching the chanting priest. Hence he decided to keep himself busy with science defying antics like attempting to stare at the priest’s balding head for the longest period, without blinking. Pavan, who under normal circumstances anyway defied science, decided to keep himself busy with very productive activities like counting the number of flowers on the pandal directly above the bride and groom’s head. After all Vyas, Ankur and he had spent the evening decorating it.
It was one of the maddest evenings Pavan had witnessed in his already mad life. The whole gang had left college in the afternoon itself to move in with an elderly relative of Ankur’s. Ankur’s very old aunt with an even older pair of hearing aids, didn’t particularly look the kind who was bursting to listen to the plans the youngsters had made for the evening.
Instead she seemed quite pleased to have so many visitors, especially polite and helpful guests like Souvik who rather instantly took to the kitchen and settled down to cutting vegetables for his own pre-wedding dinner. Pavan, of course, kept laughing so hard, that he was packed off to buy chocolate cake from an upmarket bakery, as Vyas placed the order for pizza.
Ankur and Sonali meanwhile had visited the registration office where a suspicious grey haired clerk presumed they were getting married. Ankur strangely, quite liked the thought. Even having a runaway wedding with Sonali would be fun, he concluded. Especially after he had seen Souvik and Jaishree confide and trust each other more. Secrecy, it seemed brought people closer.
The trickiest, however, had been arranging for a priest. After much cajoling and bribing they had finally managed to secure the services of a middle aged cell phone wielding priest with a balding pate. He had arrived at the temple grumbling, knowing fully well that the youngsters weren’t about to give him the pampering and privileges due to a Brahmin.
Infact he continued sulking, till Vyas went up to himand spoke Telugu and the priest then instantly smiled and became as sweet as honey. Speaking in one’s mother tongue instantly bridges the gap between people. The priest kept chatting with Vyas like they were old school friends. The wedding, it seemed, was only incidental. The paan chewing priest confirmed this suspicion when his cell phone rang just before the ceremony began.
Jaishree looked resplendent with flowers decorating her hair, beginning at the back of her head till the end of her thick braid. She looked, in every sense, a traditional Indian bride. There was no time to apply mehendi of course, and Souvik was thankful for it. He never quite liked the slightly foul smelling henna that transformed a girl’s dainty hands to a depressing dark brown colour. But even that would not have bothered him today.
Souvik had chosen the tiny, obscure temple that lay on the outskirts of the city, close to a lake. Water had played a major role in Souvik and Jaishree’s relationship and here they were getting married facing a lake. In just the same way he had proposed to her. Of course there was this other little proposal he had not told anyone of. On the third day of Souvik’s mother’s stay in the hospital, Jaishree had come visiting for the fourth consecutive time. While they sat in a relatively un-visited outpatient’s ward for an obligatory blood test result, Souvik had got down on his bended knee. Again.
Of course, this was regardless of a one member audience they had in the form of an elderly man who had undergone a cataract surgery. Quite naturally his eyes were bandaged.
A deeply embarrassed Jaishree had turned a shade red. She hurriedly nodded her approval smiling lest anyone came in. For the first time since his mother was admitted, Souvik grinned. Jaishree was truly the sunshine of his life.
Forty-Five
‘A Bengali and a Tamilian being married by a Telugu priest chanting Sanskrit slokas. Talk about a national wedding!’ said Ankur playfully as the ceremony was drawing to a close.
The Brahma mahurat was long since over and instead the early morning rays had beckoned some sincere punctual joggers.
Jogging around the lake was apparently a routine for some who parked their cars at some distance just so that they could enjoy a morning walk around the calm waters . Afew had actually slowed down so that they could have a better look at the goings-on in the usually deserted temple.
There were a total of eight people at the wedding. This including the priest and an old female sweeper who sat with a broom in hand, her head resting on one of the temple pillars. It was her job to clean up after the youngsters left. Ankur almost felt guilty. It hardly felt like a wedding.
There was no food, no dance and the only music around emanated from an old tape recorder that played the same
nadaswaram
music over and over again.
When Ankur looked at the half asleep sweeper by the temple stairs, he imagined the thoughts that may have run through her head. The little group, including the bride and the groom, looked like they had come for a fancy dress competition. The boys had a tough time making Souvik wear a dhoti who had a tougher time keeping it on and the bride was single-handedly dressed by Sonali.
Using eye shadow and lipstick alternately, Sonali had set to work with the seriousness of an artist painting a canvas. Of course she used other make up items but the trouble was in helping Jaishree make up her mind whether she wanted to be so gaudily dressed. More importantly, did she want to get married in the first place? But now with make up on her face and Souvik waiting just outside her door, the decision seemed to have already been made. Jaishree would go ahead with the wedding. She would do all the making up with her family later.
Under normal circumstances, a groom is not allowed to see his bride until the wedding ceremony. Yet that didn’t prevent Souvik from being very much a part of the brides’s chambers, giving his expert comments on how to dress her up. The bridal pair kept giving happy smiles as they gave each other tips on finishing touches. Seeing them help dress each other, the male brains visualised just the opposite, and quite naturally they were seen exchanging naughty smiles.
‘Once you are a married man, there are a lot of questions we’ll be asking you!’ Ankur had said as Pavan grinned and Vyas smirked.
‘In fact there are a lot of questions I need to ask myself!’ Souvik replied with a mischievous glint in his eye just as the would-be Mrs Bose called him from upstairs.
The auspicious time was slipping away and they had to be at the venue soon. The hired white Zen, that drove them to the temple at two in the morning was a pleasant change from the horrid Ambassador ride. Vyas and Pavan came together on a bike so there was ample place in the car. Sonali sat at the back with the bride whom the guys had already begun calling
bhabhi
, and Ankur drove the nervous groom to his final destination.
By the time the ceremony was over, it was six in the morning. And the collective stomachs that had digested the pizzas the previous day began to grumble. Alocal South Indian restaurant that opened early witnessed the fine sight of a fully dressed bride along with her groom walking in for breakfast. The owner, in a generous mood, gave a heavy discount on the sumptuous sambar and Mysore vada and idli-dosa breakfast, the first meal shared by Jaishree and Souvik as a married couple. The idea of a runaway wedding didn’t seem so bad to Ankur, after all!
Forty-Six
‘Kaavya and Karthik,’ Souvik said.
‘What?’ Jaishree sleepily enquired
‘The names of our kids,’ Souvik clarified as if he was giving the latest news update.
Jaishree blushed.
It had been a few days since the wedding and most of the class was already scattered. The bridal pair themselves were quite collected though.
“‘Kaavya”, because it means poetry and that brought us together…and “Karthik” because…that’s the only Tamil Brahmin male name I could think of,’ Souvik explained. Jaishree almost laughed.
‘How come you didn’t think of Srinath?’ Jaishree playfully enquired.