by Durjoy Datta
Trrrrinnnng. The bell rang.
They had arrived. Hugs, hugs, hugs. Nobody touches feet nowadays; it’s considered regressive. And middle class.
‘You are looking fabulous, Sonali,’ her mom-in-law-to-be said. She was a small dark-complexioned lady with curly hair and the all-pervasive kohl and a huge bindi.
‘Thank you!’ my sister said and faked a shy expression. That could have very much translated into Of course I am, I spent twenty minutes on it, and you would have disappointed me had you not said that.
Suitable pleasantries were exchanged and everybody sat down for the ceremony where the pundit asked everybody to repeat some incomprehensible Sanskrit words over and over again in a sickening tone. It was over in fifteen minutes, giving way to the official photography session in which Sonali and Abhishek posed as a couple who had just found love. As soon as the elders got out of sight to look after the eating arrangements, I pulled out my camera and Sonali brought out her antics, flashing peace signs and what not. Sonali and I loved the look of bewilderment on Abhishek’s face. Moushmi wasn’t there or she would have added tremendously to the overall craziness quotient. We missed her.
Food was served and it smelled heavenly. Mom was a great cook and eating anywhere else always seemed like an insult to my taste buds and my gastronomic faculties. We had on the table two kinds of paneer, three other vegetarian dishes, two kinds of dal, three kinds of fish and a dish each of chicken and mutton. I was born lucky and destined to be ‘healthy’.
Just as we were eating, Abhishek’s mother looked at Sonali’s hand and made a peculiar semi-angry, semi-shocked face. ‘Show me your hand,’ she said and almost politely grabbed my sister’s hand. ‘Isn’t that Asur?’ she asked, looking at her hand.
It turns out there are three gans in Hindu astrology—Devgan, Nargan and Asurgan. Although they are determined by a careful study of horoscopes, a quick estimation can be made by seeing if the little finger is below the topmost line of the adjoining finger. Though not accurate, this is relied upon by many who believe in all this. For our family, it was all French.
‘Yes the fingers, it’s below the line. It’s Asurgan. My son is Devgan.’
And that meant it was not a suitable match. Out of all possible matches between the gans, this combination was not recommended. By some quirk of nature, if the match was still considered, the groom was bound to die.
‘But the horoscopes don’t show that,’ Abhishek’s dad added and continued, ‘anyway, the finger-checking method is not that accurate, dear.’
‘No, it is. It is something that we have followed for years now. Maybe the horoscopes had some flaw in them,’ she shot back.
Now that was an outright insult. Was she suggesting we had fudged the horoscope to hook her son? That geeky, dumb guy? I could see the expressions change on everyone’s faces.
For the next few seconds all we did was exchange confused glances. Mom was visibly worried, Dad seemed a little confused. Sonali and I looked at each other and tried hard to conceal a smile at whatever was happening around us. I always felt Sonali never took the marriage thing seriously. For her, it was just another day, another joke to smile through.
‘We’ve got to check with the astrologer. Please excuse us,’ Abhishek’s mom said, tugging at her husband’s shirt.
They stood at the other end of the room, talking over the phone in hushed voices. It seemed that the astrologer was assuring them that they had nothing to worry about.
‘I am very sorry. My wife made a terrible judgment,’ Abhishek’s dad said, returning to the table. Mom would have fainted had they taken any longer. Dad was his usual composed self. ‘I told you these things are not very accurate.’ He looked at his wife.
Somehow, the tension on my mom’s face had not eased. Dad didn’t flinch. I saw a flash of disappointment on Sonali’s face. She had expected more drama and I am sure she’d hoped for it to continue a bit longer. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Abhishek had been quiet all this while. Everything was wrapped up and they left after the gifts were exchanged.
As we sat down after winding up everything, my mom announced, ‘Ami eta hote debo naa (I will not let this happen). I am calling off the wedding.’
That was quite an overtly dramatic statement, considering that nobody except Abhishek’s and our immediate families knew about the wedding until then. But then it sounded good and my mom was quite used inducing drama in boring situations! Dad didn’t react and I guessed they had already discussed it.
‘Does that mean we have to return this?’ Sonali said, fiddling with a Mont Blanc set they had gifted her, and then immediately realized that was not the most appropriate thing to say and added, as if she was worried, ‘I mean, why? What happened?’
‘Did you look at the way they behaved? If something happens to the guy tomorrow, they will blame you outright. This won’t do. And the guy? He didn’t even take the slightest interest. Mamma’s boy. That’s why he doesn’t speak much. His mother must have told him not to. I am sure she will forever bind him to her pallu. There is no way this is going ahead. Stop fiddling with that pen! We are giving it back.’
‘But it’s a Mont Blanc limited India edition! Only two hundred pieces exist.’
‘Shut up, and take these glasses away.’
‘As you say, but do rethink before giving these back,’ she said as we laughed aloud.
I had expected some tension in the house, but there was hardly any. Sonali obviously didn’t give a damn about the wedding per se. And I realized Mom and Dad were happier seeing their daughter fool around rather than see her get married off. They were content as they had weaned Sonali off her Jat boyfriend; her wedding could wait for now.
The wedding was called off a week later. All the gifts went back. The Mont Blanc didn’t.
We couldn’t find it.
Smriti was sad about the wedding being called off.
Her displeasure at my parents turning down someone from a different community was evident. Though it gave me another chance for banging the phone down on her and be unavailable for a day. She had called my parents stupidly conservative; not a very clever thing to do.
‘I am sorry about the wedding,’ Smriti said dejectedly.
‘I am not. Nobody is. It’s as if nothing ever happened. Sonali is doing okay.’
‘So does that open up any doors for Sonali’s boyfriend?’
‘No, it doesn’t. My parents won’t ever allow me or Sonali to marry outside our caste. They are totally against it.’
I had to say that. I had been building up towards the break up for the past few weeks. My allegedly low scores in the examinations, dipping performance at the CAT coaching centre—I had planned to blame her for everything. Had those not worked, I intended to exaggerate the resistance my parents put up against Sonali going for a love marriage. I wanted to drive home the fact that we had no future together. And as she would know better, it’s always easier to break up sooner than later.
‘Smriti, I have to go now. Vernita is trying to call me,’ I said, as I looked at my cell phone to swap my call.
1:03:27.
One minute was all I could bear her for. I would have faked a call waiting and put her hold until the time she would have hung up, had Vernita not called. But this time she had.
Chapter 5
‘Hey, Vernita! Need to show you something. Where are you?’ I said, trying hard not to sound excited and give it away. Luckily, she was around. She was always around.
‘See you in ten minutes at the Pitampura metro station,’ she said.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘Where are we going, not where am I going. We are going to Greater Kailash. I need company. It’s a long drive and the traffic is going to be horrible.’
‘Fine,’ I said and disconnected the line. I put together what I could find easily in my wardrobe and waited for her to reach the metro station. Like every girl, she had the right to be late.
‘To his flat?’ I asked her,
as I got into her car.
Tanmay’s sister had just landed and lately Vernita and she had become inseparable bitching partners.
‘Naah! Not today. We’ll just meet him. I did an assignment for him, so got to drop that, too,’ she said.
It was strange to see Vernita behave like a quintessential girlfriend. She always made us believe that she used guys as toilet paper.
‘Assignments? I thought all your assignments are done at his place, you know, behind closed doors,’ I mocked.
‘Shut up, fucker. I don’t make out as often as you make it sound. And can you fucking stop saying things like that in the future? I don’t like it,’ she said.
She didn’t sound convincing. She knew her libido and malleable morals were unmatched. I loved her for that. If only she hadn’t told me that I was ‘too good a friend to sleep with’. Damn, my goodness.
‘Yes, you are the queen of chastity. You never make out. I think you’re saving everything for after your wedding. Period.’
We didn’t exchange any words for the next few minutes, though both of us knew that our fake anger wouldn’t last.
‘You wanted to show me something?’ she asked what I wanted her to ask.
I wiggled my wrist, weighed down by a shiny glittering object, in front of her.
‘What on earth is that? That must be worth a million fucking bucks.’
I liked that. It didn’t happen that often. Money was never an issue for her. Her father was the most hardworking man there ever could be. He would be free on days when he worked for eighteen hours and his long hours at a college, bookshop and grocery centre meant a lot of easy money for Vernita.
‘I found it in my bag. It’s from Mom and Dad, the gift they had promised to get me if I got more than sixty-five per cent. I haven’t told them that I found it.’
We drove on and I just kept talking about my newly acquired asset. She was annoyed by the time we reached Greater Kailash. It was the most posh area in Delhi where an average-looking girl would be conspicuous because of her averageness. Skinny jeans, great ass, stilettos, side-brushed hairstyle et al., there was no way anyone could tell one from the other. And you thought people in Chinese movies were indistinguishable.
A house in and around Greater Kailash was worth upwards of three crores, but for Tanmay it wasn’t a big deal. He had two, one where he lived with his uncle and the other where he frequently made out with Vernita. I envied his life, and his inheritance.
We finally met him outside his uncle’s house. Guys like him never had an off day. Short-cropped hair. Ripped jeans. An expensive-looking light pink shirt, half of which was tucked in while the rest hung out. Carefully done. Bloody metro sexual.
‘Where is Avantika?’ Vernita asked.
‘She is coming in a moment. She is unpacking. And she is looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Who? Me?’ I was taken by surprise.
‘Yeah,’ he said, as he flicked out his expensively framed spectacles and put them on. Perfect. The humiliation was complete. Now, he looked hot and intelligent.
‘And why is that? Why is she looking forward to meeting me?’
‘I told her that you were this stud who could hook up with any girl,’ Tanmay answered.
Bloody asshole. I was no stud, not even close. Guys like Tanmay are studs. We’re just everyday guys whom girls go out with because they don’t have better options. And such descriptions—a stud who can hook up with anyone—do nothing other than ensure failure. And looking forward sounded more like Let-me-see-what-he-is-made-of.
By now, I was already not too keen on meeting Tanmay’s sister because of the kind of stories I had heard about her. Avantika had been to rehab for her drugs and alcohol problem but that was more than a year back. This is how Vernita had first described her. I had already started imagining Avantika as a leather-jacketed goth chick with piercings and tattoos crisscrossing her face and body. Not to forget the scary black nail polish on her long-grown nails. Such a girl would kick the daylights out of a nerd like me, I thought.
‘Here she comes,’ Vernita announced as she spotted Avantika in the distance.
That could have been the last thing I remembered from that day, had I had a weak heart. I passed out for a few seconds for sure. Even skipped a beat or two. Or maybe my heart just stopped beating altogether. I was choking and exploding and imploding, all at the same time. There was a strange churning in my bowels which threatened to consume me. I felt the blood rush down to the ends of my arteries and burst into a million delightful explosions. I could feel my brain crashing.
I am going to die, I am sure.
She was breathtakingly beautiful. I guess unrealistically beautiful was more appropriate! All the things I used to say to score with my ex-girlfriends had just come true. She was a dream. Even better; you couldn’t even dream of something so perfect. Plastic surgeons still can’t rival god, I thought.
She was indescribable. There is nothing better than a melancholic, beautiful face. The moonlight reflected off her perfectly sculpted face, and that seemed to be the only light illuminating the place. Somebody must have been standing nearby with a blower to ensure her streaked hair covered her face so that she could look even more stunning managing it. She had the eyes of a month-old child, big, limpid, constantly wet and screaming for attention. That perfectly drafted nose, flawless bright pink lips and a milky white complexion would have put Photoshop to shame. Oh hell, she was way out of my league. She was a goddamn goddess. Or was she the devil? Either way, she couldn’t possibly be human.
I couldn’t look beyond her face. Which was strange, as it had never happened before. Things were generally the other way round. But this time cup size didn’t make the first impression.
‘Hi, Vernita! How are you?’ she said or rather sang. Something I would never know. They hugged. Vernita was half a foot shorter than her. Avantika had turned out in a simple dull brown kurta and jeans, without even a hint of make-up. I had definitely passed out, for I couldn’t make out anything they talked about. I wasn’t seeing right, I wasn’t hearing right.
Maybe I will just wake up in a while.
‘Hi! How are you, Debashish?’ she serenaded me with a big golden harp, as I spotted her with a halo and two big white wings fluttering behind her, somewhere up in the clouds. Drugs? Alcohol? Leather? She wouldn’t even know all that. However, I spotted remnants of a piercing just above her left eyebrow, and a tattoo peeked out from under her sleeve. A red swastika sign.
Okay, relax, it’s just a dream. It will be over in a while.
‘Hello?’ Vernita pinched me and brought me to life.
‘Are you all right?’ Avantika asked.
‘I am okay,’ I said in what seemed like my fourth attempt at speaking after the first three ended in the soundless flapping of my tongue.
Was I all right? I was sure she was mocking me. Wasn’t she aware that half the people she met either slipped into a coma or ended up thinking the meeting never happened, believing it to be a figment of their imagination. I was lucky I was still breathing, damn it.
‘You guys talk, we will just take a walk,’ Tanmay said, as he and Vernita turned away from us.
Talk? I was barely alive. I reminded myself to breathe. I looked at her and smiled stupidly. I wondered if her dog looked cuter than me.
‘They look good. Don’t they?’ she asked.
Look good? Only you look good! You beautiful angel-faced cherub. Go away! Don’t make me fall in love!
‘Yes,’ I answered. I tried not to stare into death.
‘I didn’t quite like Vernita when I first met her, but I kind of like her now. She is good fun. She is a little too brash, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’ I like your nose, can I touch it?
‘What do you think? Are they serious?’
‘Yes.’ I like your lips, are they for real?
‘Do you ever say anything more than that?’
‘Yes.’ I like your eyes, can I lose myself in them?
She is here to mock you to death.
‘And why are you constantly looking down? I hope I am not that bad to look at?’ she asked. Her voluminous eyelashes fluttered over her big look-at-me eyes.
That was it. I was right. She was the devil. She derived sadistic pleasure from pushing people off the edge to an unending pit of inferiority. I was not in any mood to relent and let this drop dead gorgeous witch have her way. I finally looked up.
‘No. It’s just that I have a slight sprain in my neck,’ I said and mentally patted myself, as it happened to be the smartest answer ever under near fatal conditions.
‘So tell me, how is Smriti? That’s the girl you’re dating, right?’ she asked.
‘She is fine,’ I squeaked. You are the finest. I love the way your hands clutch that handbag. Can I be the handbag? Can you turn me into one?
‘She has exams going on, if I am not wrong?’
‘How do you know?’ Silly question. You are obviously a witch. You know everything.
‘A friend. She is studying in the same college as Smriti. Lady Hardinge Medical College. She is in the same year. Being a medical student is tough, she tells me.’
‘Okay,’ I nodded.
I was getting progressively uninterested in her. I saw no point in talking to her. I could never have her, not even in my wildest dreams. And she wouldn’t make a good friend. It was hard not to fall in love with her. I knew I had to not like her. At least show that I did not like her. I was sure she wouldn’t be too impressed with me either. I was just a dumb, average-looking bloke.
Also, she was a witch.
‘So how is it going with her?’
‘Not so fine. I guess we are moving apart,’ I said.