We spent two hours after that grinning like idiots for the photographers and then wrapped up by feeding each other. No accidents there, thank god.
Now, I had an hour to change into the yellow sari for the pheras. Panditji would use this time to get himself organized for the long night ahead of us.
However, my mind was elsewhere. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Pitajee had been acting very suspicious the whole day. Don’t get me wrong. Obviously today is a difficult day for Pitajee, yet something did not make sense. I was sitting in front of a mirror taking off my earrings, mulling things over, when Pitajee burst through the door, his eyes wide. ‘Where is Vikki?’ he blurted out.
‘Certainly not here!’ I retorted.
Pitajee was about to rush out when, displaying agility James Bond would have been proud of, I rushed ahead of him and spread my hands wide to block the door. ‘Don’t you dare move an inch,’ I said, jabbing a threatening finger at him.
Pitajee groaned loudly. ‘I am not in the mood for any drama, Kas,’ he said, half-cross, and that confirmed my doubts. Something was definitely wrong … and no, it was not Anu’s wedding. Pitajee would never be cross with me on my wedding day.
‘I will not move an inch. Not before you tell me exactly what’s going on,’ I hollered.
Pitajee paled and I knew I had hit the nail on the head. Something was going on. Before I could say anything, the door behind me burst open and Vikram and Purva tumbled in.
‘Here he is!’ said Vikram, spotting Pitajee.
‘What’s going on?’ I said, now looking at my half-husband and his brother.
‘What did you find out?’ shrieked Pitajee.
What the hell is happening?
‘It is not his,’ said Vikram, slapping the bed. The words seemed to have a marked effect on Pitajee who, in a matter of seconds, began to tremble with rage.
‘What is not whose?’ I repeated, but the three men were too busy staring stupidly at each other to bother with me.
‘What is not whose?’ I asked again, my voice dangerously calm.
No one paid any notice.
‘WHAT IS NOT WHOSE?’ I yelled at the top of my voice. That brought them back to the present.
‘The medical reports that Anu’s mom showed her…’ said Pitajee, looking strangely at me as if it were my fault, ‘are not Govind’s.’
Excuse my French, but what the…
11.10 p.m.
Within minutes, the startling story tumbled out. Anu had been clearing up her room after her mehendi ceremony late last night, when she chanced upon some papers – her father’s medical reports that Ahya had flung across the room a few months ago in a fit of rage. Surprised that such important documents had not been missed, Anu began to look at them, when her eyes fell on what looked like a blood sample report.
The patient’s name was Govind Goswami. Blood type A+. Interesting, because Anu knew for a fact that her father’s blood type was not A+.
Intrigued, she called up Pitajee, who left my sangeet immediately and got her to fax all the documents to him. He then had Vikram take a look at them. Vikram had concluded that the reports did not belong to Anu’s father.
‘Do … maybe … I ... I think there is some mix-up … just the wrong reports…’ I stammered.
‘Nope,’ said Vikram, shaking his head. ‘I spoke with lab technicians at the hospital; professional etiquette can go to hell. Those reports are fudged. They never got any tests done; some Raam Lal was paid a thousand for these.’
‘Does this mean…’ said Padma, who had been urgently called inside the room as well.
‘Yes,’ said Pitajee. ‘Anu’s parents lied so that she would not marry me.’
‘Has Anu felt any change in her father’s health … does he look weak?’ Vikram asked Pitajee.
‘That man is an ox! Nothing about him is weak!’ he thundered and I stepped back. I had never seen Pitajee’s eyes look as dark and dangerous as they did now.
‘So,’ I asked, looking around, the yellow sari that I should have worn by now lying forgotten on the bed. ‘What do we do next?’
There was silence.
‘Call Anu. Right away,’ said Purva. ‘Put her on speaker.’
I did as told. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
‘Oh god, what if Anu does not pick up the phone?’ said Padma, wringing her hands with worry. We all looked at each other, tense, unsure of what the night now held in store.
‘Hello,’ came Anu’s voice a few seconds later. Nothing had ever sounded sweeter. You could feel the relief in the room.
‘Anu!’ I said.
‘Anu!’ screamed Purva.
‘Anu Di!’ shouted Vikram.
‘Anu!’ said Padma.
‘Pumpkin!’ exclaimed Pitajee.
‘Why did you guys take years to call?’ she hissed angrily. Lovely Anu, she was back and how I had missed the sharp tongue! ‘The reports?’ she asked, in a low voice. It was obvious that there were people around her and she did not wish to attract attention.
‘It is fake,’ said Pitajee in a grim voice.
There was silence on the other end.
‘Are you married, Anu?’ Purva asked. That was something I never thought I would hear Purva ask Anu. As I waited for Anu to reply, I crossed my fingers. Purva, Pitajee, Vikram, Padma all followed suit. And that is how we stood, in a circle, our eyes boring into the phone, heads bent low in concentration and fingers crossed for luck.
This could go either way now.
39
‘The baraat has not even come yet,’ said Anu disdainfully.
I held my head in my hands and exhaled a big sigh of relief. Vikram pumped his fist in the air and Padma clutched my half-husband’s hand in delight.
Purva looked at me and smiled a slow smile. His gaze then met Pitajee’s.
‘What?’ asked Pitajee, looking at all the faces that stared expectantly at him for a few seconds before realization dawned upon him and he gasped.
‘You guys were doing this for the parents, who … well … lied,’ said Vikram.
I heard Anu take a deep breath. What could be done now? What should be done now? Pitajee’s face clouded for a few moments and he chewed on his little finger. Then he looked up at Purva, who was already smiling. Purva somehow knew what was going on in Pitajee’s head and he nodded, encouragingly. I stared blankly, first at Purva and then at Pitajee.
Taking a moment to steady himself, Pitajee sat down, cleared his throat and spoke. ‘Anu, we did this for Govind,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice.
‘And now it is clear that Govind and Ahya lied to us.’
‘Yes,’ she said again.
‘It changes everything … doesn’t it?’ he asked, his words laden with meaning.
‘Yes,’ said Anu.
A moment’s pause. I caught Padma’s face, steeped in concentration, focused on the conversation between the star-crossed lovers.
‘Everything, they say, is fair in love and war. I love you and hereby declare war on Ahya and Govind,’ said the gallant knight.
‘Oh … okay,’ said Anu, slowly.
‘Anu darling, I can just think of one thing that can be done now. Would you,’ continued Pitajee, ‘consider running away from your wedding?’
‘Wha…’ I said, feeling my eyes grow in size.
‘And marrying me tonight?’ he finished.
Padma gasped. These north Indians, her eyes seemed to say.
Vikram and Purva exchanged a look. I crossed my fingers yet again, waiting for Anu to reply. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. Vikram spared a hand over his forehead, Purva put a comforting hand on Pitajee’s shoulder and I just prayed.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
‘Yes,’ said Anu, her voice resolute.
‘Dear lord,’ Padma and I said in unison, as the meaning of the words sank in. Anu was going to run away from her wedding.
Ananya Goswami was go
ing to run away from her own wedding.
Ananya Goswami was going to run away from her own wedding.
Like, now!
40
11.15 p.m.
Pitajee was about to rush out of the room when Purva yanked him back.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ he asked Pitajee.
‘Eloping with Anu,’ he said, obstinately jutting out his chin. No one could stop him.
‘And how will you do that?’
‘Err … I will … I…’
‘Stop stuttering. We need to discuss this.’ said Purva, ably taking control of the situation at hand. We all huddled on the single bed.
‘First,’ I said importantly, ‘has anyone done this before? Or knows anyone who has?’
The looks that were most unceremoniously hurled at me shut me up.
‘Pitajee, take my car. It’s smaller and will make for a quicker getaway,’ said Purva.
Pitajee nodded his head as Vikram flung the car keys in his direction.
‘Are you doing this alone? I think someone should go with you,’ said Purva again. I vehemently nodded my head.
‘Yes,’ said Pitajee, the next instant. ‘I want Kasturi to come with me.’
‘Awww,’ I said, clutching my hand to my heart. You know you are someone’s best friend when they ask you to accompany them on a life-changing adventure such as this.
‘Are you kidding me?’ exclaimed Padma. ‘Kasturi has to get married!’
Oh. I had quite forgotten all about my wedding.
‘I need someone mad enough to do this with me. And you don’t get madder than Kas,’ said Pitajee, shrugging his shoulders. Everyone in the room, much to my indignation, nodded their heads in silent agreement. I settled the hundred- kilo pallu of my red lehenga over my head, crossed my hands, offended, against my chest and pushed myself against the wall.
No one noticed.
Really, these people need to have more respect for me! At least on my wedding day!
‘Purva will plan too much, Padma will think too much, Vikram knows too little about Ahya and Govind…’ Pitajee explained.
‘I agree,’ Purva said, after due deliberation. ‘Kasturi should go.’ And then into the phone, he said, ‘Anu. Kas and Pitajee are coming.’
‘Yay!’ she said feebly, her voice shaking with both fear and excitement. ‘I can’t believe we are doing this!’
‘Padma, you wear the yellow sari and stay in this room with Vikram,’ said my competent half-husband.
Padma looked questioningly at Purva and he explained his contingency plans.
‘The bride cannot possibly go missing. If Kas takes longer, then we will say Kas is in the room with Vikram. Worst case scenario, we will have to just tell our parents, but the longer we can avoid doing that, the more time we buy.’
‘Right!’ said Paddy.
‘And after picking up Anu?’ asked Vikram.
‘Good question,’ said Pitajee, looking at Vikram. He had definitely not thought this far. I mentally LOL-ed.
‘Get Anu here. The panditji will be waiting, I will make sure that he is,’ said Purva.
I felt goosebumps on my hands. This could not really be happening.
‘Now go, we don’t have much time. If we can get to Anu before her baraat does, it will save us a lot of trouble.’
Pitajee nodded his head, looking a little nervous now that the moment was upon us. So bizarre was the whole idea that I think we were collectively trying not to think too much lest we thought the better of it. Hurry it all up, lest someone begins to think sensibly. How mature!
I put my arm around Pitajee’s shoulders. ‘We will do it!’ I said, pumping my fist in the air.
‘Let’s go, then!’ said Pitajee and I kicked off the heels and quickly put on tennis shoes.
As the two of us rushed out of the room, Purva put a hand on Pitajee’s shoulders. Pitajee looked back at him.
‘That’s my bride there with you,’ he said, grinning. ‘Get her back on time.’
‘Aye, aye, captain,’ said Pitajee, as nervous laughter filled the room.
Taj Delhi, Wedding Grounds, 10 December 2013, 12.14 a.m.
‘Walk in like you belong,’ I whispered to Pitajee as the two of us walked inside the wedding hall. The guards at the gate had looked weirdly at us, unsure about letting another woman in a red lehenga inside.
‘Now you take the right and I will take the left. Whoever sees Anu whistles and the other joins. The idea is to run away with Anu flanked on either side by you and me. Remember, you and I, on either side of Anu,’ I reminded him.
Pitajee nodded his head absently and cast one look at the sumptuous-looking array of food not too far from us. The gardens were huge and decorated opulently for the wedding of the daughter of Ahya and Govind Goswami. Red-and-gold drapes hung on the walls, pretty flowers decorated the intricately-set tables. One of the many fat and well-dressed aunties walked by me.
‘My designer,’ said one such aunty – who probably weighed a hundred kilos – to another who seemed to weigh at least a hundred and fifty, ‘says I look slim in pink.’
One-fifty-kilo Aunty, looked enviously at the svelte figure of hundred-kilo Aunty. I gulped. It seemed like I had entered a whole new world.
I stealthily walked past another group of aunties.
‘Ritu Kumar?’ said one aunty, fingering the sari of another one.
‘Oh no!’ said the lady, quite horrified ‘Sabyasachi! Vidya is also a client, you know,’ she said with a dainty shrug of her shoulders.
‘Vidya? From our building?’ said the first aunty, not quite understanding.
‘Oh ho, Vidya Balan!’ said aunty-in-Sabyasachi, rolling her eyes.
I felt a little faint and quite homesick for my own banal, middle-class wedding which was … well … taking place without me for the time being.
The things I do for friends!
I was thinking these thoughts with a fairly philosophical air when I saw her. In the middle of a group of elegantly-dressed people, resplendent in red, stood my beautiful, gorgeous Anu. I looked dismally around her. A well-decorated boy, who could only be Saumen, stood by her, garland in hand. The jaimala was about to happen! The timing could not have been worse!
Anu was walking slowly, talking in hushed tones to her little sister, Anjali, who walked next to her. The two seemed to be in deep conversation. I had no doubt about what was being discussed. Anjali’s eyes grew large as she spotted me. As if in slow motion I saw her look left and then right. She then elbowed her sister and pointed in my direction.
‘Oh!’ I said, hyperventilating as I spotted, from the corner of my eye, at least twenty policemen who had been on duty all along. I am now going to help my friend run away from her own wedding! In front of the police!
Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!
12.18 a.m.
In front of my horrified eyes, I saw Anu press Anjali’s hand one last time, hitch her lehenga up and begin to run towards me with all her might.
I heard the crowd gasp collectively.
‘Bittu Beta!’ said Bunty Mama, who was closest to Anu. I have met Anu’s corpulent uncle a couple of times, and felt sorry for the ninety-eight-kilo man as he tried to waddle towards Anu. Anjali politely but firmly pushed him to one side. Bittu Mama looked at Anjali, a mixture of indignation and hurt written all over his round face and three chins.
Anu ran in my direction. A sea of people stared as one bride ran to another. I looked on, a little bewildered, as Anu’s strong hands clasped mine and, as if on cue and very much like the climax of a Bollywood movie, the two of us started running towards the gate, hand in hand.
‘What?’ said one aunty bringing her hands most dramatically to her mouth. ‘Goswamiji’s daughter is running away with another girl?’
I get it now, I do. Looks really suspicious if you have two women dressed as brides running away hand in hand.
‘You never know what kids are up to these days,’ said another aunty, shaking her head sadly, �
��MTV single-handedly corrupted an entire generation.’
Before anyone could say ‘runaway bride’, Anu and I were out of the wedding grounds as restless murmurs grew louder in the background. What was really funny and made me giggle was the guard at the gates saluting the moment his eyes fell on Anu. And it was then that it struck me. For all practical matters, Anu had eloped with me and we had not only left Pitajee inside, but had, till now, completely forgotten about him.
The excitement of the night does not end!
‘Pitajee!’ I said, panting. ‘He’s still inside!’
‘And I am outside!’ Anu said, rather meaninglessly.
‘Yes, you’re outside,’ I agreed with her. Both of us were running the hardest we had ever run and talking to each other in hurriedly-caught breaths. The brain is not at its sharpest on such occasions and I forgave Anu immediately for inane remarks.
‘I eloped with you, Kasturi,’ Anu shrieked, as the realization hit her too. I think neither of us was sure whether we should laugh or cry.
‘Annnnuu,’ came a loud wail from behind, and Anu and I turned around simultaneously. As if on cue, Pitajee appeared from seemingly nowhere, running his hardest, his arms flailing wildly around him, making him look more comical than heroic, which was not the effect he was trying to achieve. I vaguely noticed the guard saluting him too. For god’s sake, had the guard not figured out what was happening?
Pitajee stopped two short steps away from us. For obvious reasons, he had eyes only for Anu who glowed in the bridal attire.
‘You are beautiful, Ananya,’ said Pitajee, his voice thick with emotion, eyes red and face dripping with love. To my horror, the two of them stood there, most ironically right under a glittering board that announced Anu’s wedding to Saumen, and stared at each other, love-struck.
Pitajee was back to looking all woolly and goofy. Anu had just fallen in love all over again.
‘Guys … errr…’ I said, trying to gingerly break the spell, ‘Err … really sorry to break this to you, but if you look behind you, about fifty men have just come out of the gates and are attempting what I can only describe as a chase! So really … I mean … this is not the time for puppy love…’
Can This Be Love? Page 20