Anu had had many suitors even in school and college. She was the epitome of perfection. She wasn’t the best at anything but was good at everything. Good grades, good looks, good at sports, etc. And she was impossible to hate. The way she conducted herself endeared her to one and all. I was never jealous of her . . . until that day.
It was almost dinner time when I reached her house. There were more people there than I had expected. I knew almost all her extended family and greeted them warmly.
People were bantering all around. The vibrancy of the household made it look like a shaadiwala ghar already.
‘Congratulations to you too, my dear girl. You’re her best friend after all,’ one aunt wished me. I smiled.
‘Hope you’re next,’ she said and I kept up the smile with difficulty.
‘Heard the news?’Anu’s mother came and hugged me.
‘Can’t wait,’ someone else chipped in.
‘I had better start dieting,’ another was heard saying. The cacophony was getting a bit overwhelming. Or maybe I was getting a little jealous.
When I finally met Anu, she darted towards me and hugged me.
‘I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it!’Anu said repeatedly like a stuck tape in a recorder.
For the next thirty minutes, she recounted the whole story enthusiastically. Anu Sharma was getting married to Akshay Arora. The latter was from the same community as Anu’s mother. Their families had met through a common friend. Akshay lived in a palatial family bungalow on Rajpur Road in New Delhi. An MBA earning an seven-digit salary, Akshay was into sports, tennis mainly and spoke four languages. He travelled extensively on work and leisure. Every alternate weekend in the city, he played golf. He loved watching movies and TV shows. He drank occasionally and did not smoke. He once had had a passing affair with a girl from his college but had been single ever since. And he was an only child. How could anyone top that?
After listening to the unbelievably perfect description of my friend’s husband-to-be, I was confident and somewhat hopeful that the man would be ugly, repulsive, or at the very least funny-looking. But when Anu pulled out his picture to show me, I realized that ‘the ideal man’ did exist. At approximately six feet, his taut, yet not overtly muscular body did his personality justice. One look at Akshay would suffice to guess that he was into sports. Something moved in the pit of my stomach. And no, it was not the burger I had eaten for lunch. Would I ever find someone as attractive as Akshay?
I saw more than a couple of photographs of him. There was one photograph with Anu next to him. It was taken after their third or fourth ‘date’.
God! They looked insanely gorgeous together. Anu herself had an impressive figure with a height of 5’6” or 5’7”. Clear complexion, attractive features, long hair, long legs, a small waist and even big round breasts—the one thing that was mine!
Her engagement was fixed for the following month and she would be married within a year. She showed me a few pictures of her outfit trials for the engagement. She looked stunning in all the options, particularly in a pink and orange lehenga with a choli that had a dangerously open back. Some girls have it all.
It was close to midnight when I reached home. Despite the happy atmosphere I had just come from, my spirits took a nosedive. Once I entered my room, it was time for the dramatic jump on the bed again. I kicked my innocent blanket and comforting pillow off the bed in frustration. Hearing about Anu’s wedding would only make my family take their groom-hunting efforts to the next level. I was dreading it.
That night, sleep eluded me yet again. I was incredibly happy for my friend, but terribly sad for myself. Happy that my friend was having her fancy fairy tale come true and sad that I may never have mine.
4
535 days before the wedding
‘It’s over. My life is ruined!’ This was the text message I received from Anu first thing in the morning. Groggily, still adjusting to the sunlight flooding in through the windows, I sat up straight in bed. Was the wedding off? Was the wedding with Mr Perfect off? Was he not Mr Perfect after all? The possibility interested me. What is it about seeing drama in other people’s lives that makes it so fascinating?
‘What happened???????’ I replied. The extra question marks conveying the level of my concern. Two minutes later, she sent me a photograph of her eyebrows. It was obvious. Just like I had warned her, the risk of trying out a new salon had not paid off. The beautician had clearly made the right eyebrow too thin compared to the left. This meant that the left one would have to be thinned down as well. What a disaster! I immediately called Anu to offer my condolences.
* * *
It was another day of no lectures and I was home sometime between 6 and 7 p.m. after work. Those days my electronic chats with Anu were constant and more frequent than otherwise. She always had some updates or needed my suggestions regarding her upcoming nuptials. From the wedding venue and the guest list to more important things like the shape of her eyebrows, we discussed everything.
Going through the process of planning her wedding with her was bittersweet, but I decided not to let it affect me—she was my closest friend after all. And who knew, maybe I would become super-hot closer to Anu’s wedding and some handsome hunk would fall head over heels for me at the functions. (Spoiler alert—that doesn’t happen.)
As I let myself into the house, I saw Mother and Grandma perched on the sofa, discussing something with the TV on mute in the background. Before I could say ‘Hi’, Father walked into the living area from his room and exchanged a glance with my mother, as if to say, ‘Should we start the discussion?’ It gave me the creeps.
I hurriedly tried to flee and had almost made it to my room, when I was asked to freshen up and come to the dining table for ‘a little chat’.
My mind started to race. Would this be about the indebted family? Had they agreed upon an arrangement? Was I buying a husband???
Pushing aside all negative thoughts, I speedily freshened up and came to the dining room, eager to get this over and done with. My parents and Grandma were already sitting in their usual spots. A deafening silence prevailed for a few seconds and then the inevitable began again.
‘Madhu, we have been talking about finding a match for you to a few people for some weeks now,’ my father started.
I had just a few seconds to decide whether to play along or to reveal that I knew about the secret groom-hunting. I decided upon the former.
‘Oh? I thought we had decided that I was still studying. That we would consider marriage next year. How could you do this without telling me?’ I gave my best shot at acting. My tone was agitated and higher than usual, my expression wounded. Heavy breathing followed.
Grandma retorted, ‘We are fine with your studying for as long as you want. But everything else must also go along simultaneously in life. That is what gives one a perfect balance.’
‘But what is the hurry? I am only twenty-five.’
‘At your age I was . . .’
‘Oh please, Nani!’ I cut her off. It was high time. ‘Don’t give me that. I’m sure at my age you were already a mother of thirty children! Times have changed. Keep up!’ I said, unleashing the irritation I felt within.
‘Madhurima! You will not speak to your grandmother like that,’ my mother said firmly. Within seconds, the atmosphere in the house had heated up.
‘She is right, Rima,’ Grandma told my mother with mock self-pity. ‘Times have changed, indeed.’
‘So you agree that we can wait a little longer?’ I was in no mood to humour anybody.
‘No, Madhu. We have just started looking for a boy. Do you know how long it could possibly take to find one?’
Everyone else was quiet. Grandma continued, ‘You heard the latest about Deepa’s daughter, Ragini?’
Ragini is my second cousin. The maternal family’s favourite. Every teacher’s pet, every girlfriend’s threat. Little-Miss-Who-Eats-Everything-But-Is-Somehow-Still-Skinny Ragini. Damn her!
‘Rag
ini has done her MBA from the best college in Mumbai. You have seen her photographs. She is prettier than top heroines. Yet, not one suitable boy could be found for her in the past eight months.’
‘Oh yes, and if no boy could be found for Little-Miss-Perfect Ragini then what chance does fat old Madhu have, right?’
‘Enough!’ Mother intervened.
‘Try to understand, Madhu,’ she said in a pacifying tone. ‘We are just having causal talks for now. You don’t have to get married immediately. It will take us a while to find a suitable boy and then both of you will get enough time with each other before coming to a decision. But you need to be involved from the beginning. What you want, what you don’t, which family is more appealing than others, everything. It will take a long time.’
‘And what if you find the boy immediately?’
It was a stupid question. It wasn’t as if I would say ‘yes’ and there would be a row of candidates under my building. Everyone remained silent.
‘Fine. You people do what you want. My opinion does not matter anyway.’
‘Of course, it does, beta,’ said my father, the calmest of the lot. ‘Otherwise, why would we have this discussion? We don’t want to do anything without your knowledge.’
‘Oh, is that so? Then why are you meeting families that are in debt? To buy a husband for me?’ I said, although this was not part of my plan.
My words shocked everyone. The colour drained from their faces. Suddenly I had that edge over them, the edge that people get when they catch someone doing something wrong. My father looked away sheepishly.
‘I know what you people are up to behind my back,’ I said, demonstrating more offence than I actually felt. I tried my best to squeeze out a tear or two for added effect but it turned out that acting wasn’t my thing, after all.
So, abandoning the discussion, I dashed into my room, bolted the door and stood with my back against it, mirroring the exact moves I had seen distressed actresses make in movies. Sliding down to the floor would have been a bit too much so I went and sat down on the bed. I stayed in my room until almost midnight, when I couldn’t bear the hunger pangs any more. I hadn’t caved in even when everyone came turn by turn to call me for dinner.
At about 11.45 p.m., I crept sneakily into the kitchen, where I found a covered plate of food on the counter, left most probably by Mother. Despite the current situation, the gesture made me smile and I soon found my anger melting away. After eating every edible morsel on my plate, I freshened up and then reflected on what had happened. It is amazing how a full stomach changed my mood within seconds.
The truth was although my parents hadn’t kept me in the loop, they hadn’t brought up the topic of the family-with-the-financial-issue with me either, probably because they didn’t expect me to marry him. That had to count for something. And what did they want? They just wanted me to meet people that I approved of. It wasn’t as if I was completely against marriage. I wasn’t. Maybe it was worth giving this circus a shot. Slowly, I crept into my parents’ room.
Mother and Father were sleeping with their backs to each other. Father was gently snoring. I knelt down beside mom and shook her lightly. ‘Mumma,’ I said. She woke up in a jiffy.
‘What happened? Is everything okay?’ she said in panic, trying to sit up.
I told her everything was fine and made her lie down again. Father was still fast asleep.
‘What happened? Why are you still awake? Have you eaten?’
‘Mumma, I’m ready to start looking for a boy,’ I whispered. She smiled away the tears that were welling up in her eyes and embraced me.
5
528 days before the wedding
Only a few days had passed since the night I had agreed to start ‘seeing boys’—whatever that meant. The decision had made everyone at home incredibly happy. The next day my father, overwhelmed and relieved to have me on board, admitted that meeting the indebted family behind my back was an unfair move. Luckily for me, that chapter was closed after the first meeting itself. The boy’s family firmly believed in horoscopes and mine didn’t match their son’s. Sometimes, the most unexpected things can save you from tricky situations.
It all started with an unusual phone call from my grandmother during lunch hour in office.
‘Hi, Nani.’
‘Madhu, beta, am I disturbing you?’
‘No, no. I was just about to have lunch. Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. Okay, as soon as you are done eating, take a break and check your phone.’
‘Okay, why?’
‘I’m sending you some photographs on the Whatsup,’ she said. The error made me smile but there was no point correcting her, not for the hundredth time.
‘Okay, what photographs?’
‘Just see them. We’ll talk in the evening.’
‘I have class after work.’
‘Okay, then at night. Now go back to work. Bye bye.’
‘Bye, Nani.’
As soon as the call was through, I rushed back from the pantry to check my phone, but there was no new message.
A few minutes later, I received a lengthy message from my ultra tech-savvy grandma.
‘Dear Madhu. I am sending you some pictures of Nishant Pandey, son of well-known family from our community. Very handsome boy. You will not have to change surname also. Ha ha. You can check him on the Facebook as well. I have met his grandmother many years ago. Rest will chat at home. Love, nani☺☺’
I quickly downloaded the three photographs. Thin, seemingly tall, bespectacled and wearing a suit, the boy was decent-looking; the photographs, hilarious! They were professionally taken in a photo studio against different backgrounds. One was a full-length, one a mid-shot and one a close-up. Who does that! I found the whole concept lame and funny but before I could actually let out a laugh, I imagined how I would look in such photographs. Surely, worse than him by a big margin. The thought of getting such pictures taken depressed me. I would have to protest if it came to that. I generally avoided cameras, mirrors, reflective windows and anything else that reminded me of what I looked like.
Throughout my day at work and even during lectures, I kept thinking about the boy. Every time I looked at his photographs, I asked myself, ‘Is he the one?’ Could he be my future husband? The man I will lose my virginity to? The thought made me gag. Was I thinking too far? This was unfamiliar territory. I wondered how many men I would meet before settling down for one. Was there an average quota in the market?
After work and college, I returned home, hungry and exhausted; the upbeat atmosphere at home not in synchronization with my mood. My family was awaiting my return with enough enthusiasm on their grinning faces to tick me off. Their eagerness was directly proportional to my frustration. I wanted to go right up to them and literally give them all a good shake.
‘What is it? Why are you all smiling at me like that?’ I grumbled. The smiles grew wider.
‘Oh, don’t pretend to be coy now.’
COY? They thought I was being coy? Damn! They knew nothing of being coy then.
‘If this is about the boy, please spare me.’
‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ said Grandma. ‘I’m sure you secretly liked him.’
Did I? I really didn’t know.
‘I’m off to bed.’
‘He’s coming over for tea with his family this weekend,’ Mother announced softly, cautiously. At least someone was worried about my reaction.
It was time for the routine dive on to the bed. At this rate, I’d soon need a new one because the wedding circus had officially begun.
6
515 days before the wedding
Nishant Pandey’s family was visiting us that evening. I could not believe that I would be doing the Tea Parade in this day and age. If anything had changed, it was the fact that I would be serving the Pandeys green tea! They were the health-conscious type. Even a fool would’ve known that this wouldn’t have worked out. A family that had requested green tea before arrival
would not welcome a ninety-three-kilo bride. But I was dolled up in a salwar kameez (which I suspect was made out of an old bedsheet) and exhibited all the same. Though reluctant, I had complied with all the dos and don’ts that the expert mothers in my house had instructed me with.
For the first ten minutes after their arrival, I was holed up in the kitchen like a rabbit in its burrow. Mother was to settle them in the living area, serve them water and then send for me when the anticipation had built up.
With shaking hands and a plastic smile, I went out to play my part. Despite the discomfort of the tummy-tucker that was trying hard (and miserably failing) to keep it all together under my outfit, Nishant’s mother’s eyes popped out on seeing me and mine popped out on seeing her paan-stained teeth. Health-conscious, my foot! I acknowledged them with a nod of my head and a shy smile, practised to perfection. Mother had told me to talk less. I had decided not to talk at all, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.
After the Tea Parade, I was made to sit between Nishant’s sister and his mother. Ridiculous! How could I check them out while sitting next to them? Sometimes, adults don’t exercise any common sense at all.
Nishant, dressed in a maroon shirt with green leaf motifs (I swear!), was soft-spoken and shy, but the same cannot be said about his family. Apart from him, his parents and younger sister, an older uncle had also come to visit us. This uncle was serving as the broker between our families. He knew my father’s cousin.
Flashy, loud and unnecessarily open (and I’m not just talking about the mother’s blouse), the other Pandeys didn’t strike me as the ideal family on our first and only encounter. But Nishant came across as a sensible and compliant fellow, the green leaves on his shirt notwithstanding. Although I was prepared to have a five-minute, make-or-break, one-on-one chat with him on the pretext of showing him my room (Bollywood movies had trained me well), thankfully, it didn’t come to that.
Encounters of a Fat Bride Page 2