2 States: The Story of My Marriage

by Chetan Bhagat

  ‘Mom, I want to marry Ananya,’ I said, ‘in case it is not clear.’

  My mother placed the piece of roti back on her plate and pushed her chair back to get up.

  ‘Mom, please wait. I want to talk,’ I said.

  ‘Why should I talk? You will do whatever you want anyway. Go to the temple right now and get married.’

  ‘Aunty, we want you to be happy about it,’ Ananya said.

  ‘Well, I am not. You can’t force me to be happy. Everyone is praising Minti’s mother for her choice. I’ve suffered for years to bring my son up. Why can’t I have the same happiness? I want a lavish wedding, I want the girl’s parents to respect me, I want the girl to be approved of by my brothers and sisters.’

  ‘They will like Ananya! She is intelligent, educated. . . .’

  ‘She is South Indian,’ my mother said, cutting me.

  ‘So what? Let’s see what your brothers and sisters say about Ananya. This wedding is a perfect excuse.’

  ‘And who will I say she is?’ my mother asked grimly.

  ‘Say she is Krish’s classmate who’s never seen a Punjabi marriage ceremony and wanted to come,’ I said.

  My mother kept quiet. She picked up her roti and began to eat again.

  ‘Aunty, I am sorry I came unannounced. I thought Krish had told you.’

  ‘He never tells me anything. He is so careless,’ my mother said.

  ‘I agree, he doesn’t communicate well,’ Ananya said.

  ‘See,’ my mother said to me.

  Even though they were ganging up against me, I let it pass. I wanted them to bond in any way possible.

  ‘The daal is excellent, aunty, you must teach me how to make it,’ Ananya said.

  ‘Then why are you eating like a squirrel? Take a proper helping,’ my mother said.

  ‘I’ll speak to Minti,’ I put in. ‘I’m sure she will have no problem if I bring a friend.

  ‘Only as a friend,’ my mother said.

  ‘Thanks, mom,’ I said and hugged her.

  ‘Your dad never gave me anything. You don’t deprive me of what I deserve,’ my mother said.

  ‘Where’s uncle?’ Ananya said.

  ‘Who knows?’ my mother said. ‘He’ll be back late. You’ll see him in the morning. You are sleeping in the guest-room and Krish in his room, right?’

  ‘Of course, mom,’ I said, ‘how else?’

  My mother finished dinner. Ananya offered to do the dishes. My mother said the maid would arrive in the morning but Ananya insisted. My mother went to her room.

  ‘OK, Miss Brand Manager, you sure you don’t need help?’ I said as I leaned against the kitchen wall.

  Ananya applied Vim on the dishes with a wire mesh. ‘No, I don’t want to be accused of trapping the Prince of Punjab again,’ Ananya said and mercilessly scrubbed a kadhai.

  ‘Let me dry the dishes,’ I offered.

  ‘Go away, I beg you,’ she said as she pushed me out of the kitchen.

  44

  ‘Good morning, uncle,’ Ananya said as she came into the living room in her night-suit. It was seven-thirty in the morning. My father, bound to his army habit, had showered and changed. He looked up from his newspaper. He didn’t respond.

  ‘I’m Ananya, Krish’s friend.’

  ‘Good,’ my father said and went back to his newspaper. He kept calm. I knew he’d blow his lid when Ananya left. I came to the living room and ignored him.

  ‘Ananya, get ready. We should leave before the peak-hour traffic.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ my father said.

  I didn’t answer. My father stood up and went to the kitchen.

  ‘Is this the way to behave?’ I heard him scream at my mother.

  ‘What happened?’ my mother said as I kept one ear to the kitchen.

  ‘I asked him where is he going, he didn’t answer. And who is that girl?’

  ‘He is going to drop Ananya to her guest-house and go to office. Why?’ my mother said.

  ‘Why can’t he say it? And why didn’t you tell me we will have a visitor in the house.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ my mother said.

  ‘You are lying again,’ my father screamed.

  Ananya looked terrified.

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ I said, ‘now let’s get the hell out of here.’ I came home from work and found a deadly silence in the house. Obviously, my father was home. He sat at the dining table with my mother.

  ‘Krish, your father wants to talk to you,’ my mother said.

  ‘Tell him I don’t want to,’ I said.

  ‘He said he won’t come for Minti’s wedding if you don’t speak to him,’ my mother said. Weddings on my mother’s side of the family were when we needed my father the most. My mother wanted to portray a sense of normalcy. If my father showed his face, it prevented tongues wagging for weeks. I had no choice. I went and sat opposite him.

  ‘So, now that you have resorted to blackmail, what do you want to talk about?’ I said.

  ‘It’s not blackmail. When my family doesn’t talk to me, why should I. . . .’ he said.

  ‘Whatever. What is it?’ I said.

  ‘Who is that girl?’

  ‘Ananya Swaminathan,’

  ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘She is a classmate from college and my girlfriend.’

  ‘See Kavita,’ my father said, ‘and you said she is only a friend.’

  ‘You talk to me, why do you have to take it out on her,’ I said.

  ‘What is the purpose of her visit here?’ my father said.

  ‘She came on a work assignment. Minti invited her to the wedding. Do you have a problem?’

  ‘You will not choose a girl for marriage. I will choose for you,’ my father said.

  ‘You want to sell me. And while you are out there negotiating me, what’s my going rate?’

  ‘Kavita, this boy. . . .’

  ‘This boy is right here. Talk to me.’

  ‘I am not coming for Minti’s wedding,’ my father announced.

  ‘Please, don’t do that. Krish, talk properly,’ my mother pleaded.

  ‘No mom, we won’t take him. We’ll tell them he is sick, mentally.’

  ‘Watch your mouth,’ my father said and raised his hand.

  ‘I dare you,’ I said and stood up. I went to my room but could hear them.

  ‘I won’t come for the wedding, Kavita,’ my father said. The sound of a clattering plate, presumably shoved away on the dining table.

  ‘Do whatever you want, all of you,’ my mother said.

  I lay in bed. I wondered why we even stayed together as a family. I never thought I would, but I missed Chennai. Sure, people there didn’t really connect with me, but at least nobody could jab my insides. I thought of calling Ananya but I didn’t want to dump my mood on her. Questions darted in my mind. Am I even doing the right thing by bringing Ananya into this family? What impression will she have of me? Will she change her mind about me? Watching my mind’s stupid daily pre-sleep thought dance, I tossed and turned in bed all night.

  45

  Minti’s sagan ceremony took place at the Taj Palace Hotel in Dhaula Kuan. Frankly, it was a big deal for our clan. We had seen some over the top weddings, but never before did an engagement ceremony happen at a top end five-star hotel. Rajji mama had taken his one-upmanship among the relatives right to the top by booking the Taj.

  The banquet hall entrance had a sign.

  The Talrejas welcome you

  to SAGAN ceremony of their:

  Most lovely daughter

  Manorama (Minti)

  With

  Dashing Gentleman

  Dharamveer (Duke), B. Tech

  ‘Don’t laugh,’ I said to Ananya, suppressing my own smile.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ she grinned. She adjusted the drape of her bottle green and gold sari for the fifth time.

  ‘Welcome-ji, welcome,’ Rajji mama gave my mother and me hugs in quick succession.

  We came
inside the banquet hall, which held two hundred people. The main stage had two ornate chairs stolen from a king’s palace. Alongside, there were seventy-five boxes of sweets and five giant baskets of fruits.

  Most of the women stood at the chaat and juice counter. All the men stood at the bar. I helped my female cousins access vodka by giving them my glass, which they poured into their juice.

  ‘So, there is Rajji mama, Lappa mama, Shipra masi and your mother – in that order, right?’ Ananya said.

  ‘Yes, and since my mother is the youngest, she needs validation from all of them to do anything in life,’ I said.

  ‘Fine, let me understand first. Minti and Rohan are Rajji mama’s children,’ Ananya said and took out a notepad. ‘And who is the girl you gave the vodka to?’

  ‘That’s Tinki, and she has a younger sister Nikki, both in college. They are Lappa mama’s children. And Shipra masi has a son and a daughter, Bittu and Kittu. That’s it, my mom only has me.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Ananya said as she finished taking notes.

  ‘Krish, come here,’ my mother screamed. She stood next to the stage.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said and pulled Ananya’s hand.

  Ananya hesitated at first, but came along. My mother sat with an eighty-year-old lady who wore a gold necklace. It had a pendant bigger than the Olympic gold medal.

  ‘She is Swaran aunty, my masi,’ my mother said.

  My grandmother had died a couple of years ago. Swaran aunty was the senior-most family member who was brought out at weddings and other auspicious occasions to bless everyone.

  I bent forward to touch her feet. I signalled and Ananya followed.

  ‘Kavita, teri noo hai?’ Swaran aunty said in Punjabi, asking if Ananya was my mom’s daughter-in-law.

  My mother explained she was a friend.

  ‘What is friend?’ Swaran aunty asked me.

  ‘Aunty, you need chaat?’ I countered.

  ‘Yes, nobody is getting me anything,’ she complained.

  I returned with a plate of chaat. Ananya sat next to Swaran aunty and my mother.

  ‘She is Madrasi?’ Swaran aunty said in a voice loud enough to belie her age.

  ‘Tamilian,’ Ananya said.

  ‘But she is fair complexioned?’ Swaran aunty said, genuinely confused. For her years, her eyesight wasn’t bad at all.

  Shipra masi passed by, looking expensive. Everything she wore—clothes, jewellery, handbag and shoes—contained real gold of varying proportions.

  ‘Shipra, see this, a gori Madrasin,’ Swaran aunty screamed.

  ‘Hello Kavita, how are you Krish?’

  ‘Fine aunty, meet my friend, Ananya,’

  ‘Oh, we all know what kind of friend. Yes, she is fair.’

  Shipra masi called for Rajji mama and Lappa mama’s wives, Kamla and Rajni, respectively.

  ‘Come, see Krish’s friend. That Madrasin Kavita told us about,’ Shipra masi shrieked.

  Rajni aunty and Kamla aunty came over. We exchanged polite greetings. My mother explained how my father had viral fever so he couldn’t come. Everyone knew the truth but nodded in total support. Shipra masi even suggested some medicines.

  ‘Ananya Swaminathan, aunty,’ Ananya repeated her name to Kamla mami as she hadn’t caught it the first time.

  ‘You are so fair. Are you hundred percent South Indian?’ Kamla mami asked.

  She is also an IIMA pass out and a brand manager at HLL, I wanted to say. But those are things you discuss in Chennai, not at the Taj Palace, Delhi, during the Talreja’s sagan ceremony.

  ‘By South Indian standards, she is quite pretty,’ Shipra mami added insight.

  ‘I know, otherwise how black and ugly they are,’ Kamla mami said.

  Everyone laughed, apart from Ananya. She had braved a smile all along, but it disappeared. I moved next to her and gently patted her back. I didn’t want her to react. Smile like a ditz and your chances of being accepted will improve. Sometimes, love is tested in strange ways.

  ‘The boy’s side has come!’ Kittu, my youngest cousin, came running inside like Amitabh Bachchan had lost his way and rung the doorbell.

  ‘Let’s go, let’s go,’ Kamla mami hauled up all the ladies. The ladies deposited their gold sequined bags with Swaran aunty. Her immobility made her an ideal cloakroom.

  ‘So, what is the surprise gift?’ my mother egged on Kamla aunty.

  ‘You will see it soon-ji. But the expense has broken our back. Minti’s daddy had to take a loan.’

  ‘It’s OK, you have only one daughter,’ Shipra masi said as all of them walked out.

  Ananya let out a huge sigh after the Punjabi aunty gang left.

  ‘You OK?’ I said. ‘No, let me guess. You are not OK.’

  ‘I need a drink, let’s go to the bar,’ Ananya said.

  ‘But stay a few steps away. I’ll order the drink,’ I said.

  We reached the bar. Tinki and Nikki came running to me, their lehngas lifted up to their ankles with their hands.

  ‘Krish bhaiya, get a full glass of neat vodka. My friends from college have come.’

  ‘Why can’t the girls take drinks themselves?’ Ananya asked.

  Tinki and Nikki turned to Ananya, puzzled. At nineteen and seventeen, they looked overdressed in their designer clothes.

  ‘Tinki, Nikki, this is Ananya,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, you are the one,’ Tinki exclaimed.

  ‘The one who?’ I said.

  ‘She is your girlfriend, no, Krish bhaiya?’ Nikki said.

  I didn’t respond.

  ‘You are blushing,’ Tinki said, and turned to Ananya. ‘I love your earrings. Where did you get them from?’

  ‘Coimbatore,’ Ananya said.

  ‘Where is that?’ Tinki said.

  ‘Tamil Nadu, that is where I come from,’ Ananya said.

  ‘Stupid, didn’t you read it in geography?’ Nikki scolded her sister and turned to me, ‘Your girlfriend is so pretty. And her sari is also so beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ananya said. ‘Both of you look great. I want a lehnga like that.’

  I took a full glass of vodka from the bar and poured it into three glasses. I topped the drinks with Sprite and brought it for the girls.

  ‘I don’t drink. It’s only for the DJ later,’ Tinki clarified. ‘Anyway I am eighteen now.’

  ‘You went to IIMA, no? You must be so intelligent. Can girls get into IIM?’ Nikki said.

  ‘Of course, why not? What’s it got to do with being a girl,’ Ananya said.

  I stepped away from them. The girls talked for the next ten minutes. If nothing else, Ananya had bonded with the younger set of my family. Why was it so much harder to win over the older generation?

  ‘Where are you?’ my mother’s angry voice cut into my musings. ‘The ceremony is about to start.’

  I collected the girls and we went to the stage. Minti sat on the floor of the stage with Duke in front of her. A priest sat alongside.

  As my aunts would say, Duke was on the healthier side.

  ‘He is fat,’ Ananya said flatly.

  ‘Shut up, someone will hear you,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, people really are careful about what they say around here,’ Ananya said, sarcasm shimmering in her words like the sequins in her blouse.

  ‘C’mon Ananya, they are not even aware they are being offensive. You will like them once you know them.’

  ‘Please, I like your cousins, let me be with them,’ Ananya said, her voice defiant from the vodka.

  ‘We like her,’ Nikki and Tinki certified as they gave Ananya a hug. Just like men, women too become friendlier after alcohol.

  Duke was indeed fair as milk. The chubby cheeks and fair complexion made him look like a solely Cerelac-fed adult. He wore a shiny maroon kurta, of probably the same fabric as one of Ananya’s mom’s saris. Damn, I was remembering Ananya’s mother here. Focus, I said to myself.

  Minti wore an orange lehnga studded with Swarovski crystals and other precious stones. Accord
ing to my mother, it cost twenty thousand rupees, while the wedding sari had cost thirty thousand. Ten percent of the wedding budget is bridal costumes, my brain made a useless calculation.

  The priest chanted mantras. Minti gestured at her cousins to ask if she looked fine.

  Nikki put her right thumb tip and index finger tip together to signify she looked fab. Nikki also put her right middle finger on her forehead to show Minti she needed to adjust her bindi. Minti followed the instruction and fixed her bindi with the left hand even as the priest tied a thread on her right. I learnt three facts about women: a) they never lose track of how they look; b) they help each other out by giving instructions in any way possible; and c) they can multi-task. Of course, my mind couldn’t focus on the ceremony. I thought of ways to make my family like Ananya.

  Duke pulled out an engagement ring from his kurta pocket. He displayed it for the cameras. A collective sigh ran across the women as they realised it was a solitaire.

  ‘One-and-a-half carats at least,’ Shipra masi curated it immediately.

  Duke put the ring on Minti’s finger and everyone clapped. Minti gave a shy smile as she brought out a ring, a simple gold band for Duke. She put the ring on him.

  ‘She looks so sweet,’ Tinki said and the two sisters gave each other hugs, their eyes wet. Women have surplus emotions and they don’t need a big trigger to spill them out.

  Duke’s family waited after the ring ceremony in anticipation. Rajji mama took out a little box from his shirt pocket. He passed it on to Duke. Duke refused three times. Rajji mama insisted until Duke accepted it. Duke opened the black box. It had a key with the Hyundai Motors sign on it.

  This time the women and men gave out a collective sigh. Yes, Rajji mama had outdone the solitaire.

  ‘They’ve given a car,’ Shipra masi said, to make it clear in case somebody hadn’t got it.

  Grown-ups from both sides opened their respective sweet boxes and force-fed the other family. All of us went on stage one by one and congratulated the couple.

  Minti’s parents gave gifts to all of Duke’s uncles and aunts. Duke’s parents returned the favour. My mother and Shipra masi received a sari each.

  ‘Show me yours,’ Shipra masi said to my mother. Fortunately, they found them similar. Duke’s parents could not be accused of aunt favouritism.