The lovely Divya Sinha, niece of Sri Sri Priye Guru Ma, sang the SoL Prayer and the Satsang was concluded in one hour. After the Satsang, Priye Ma gave the ‘first blessing’ (halwa prepared with her very own hands) to Nitisha and her fiancé, Rohan. This brought tears to the eyes of Amy, who is understandably quite emotional about seeing her little bud blossom into a beautiful flower.
The only member of the Khanna family not present at the Satsang was Amy’s son, Arjun. The weight of the Khanna empire rests on his able shoulders, and work commitments kept him from attending the Satsang. He conveys his regret at missing the most important event in his sister’s wedding festivities. On a lighter note, Arjun is one of the most eligible bachelors in the NCR region and a little birdie tells us he is single and ready to mingle!
Please find attached some photographs from the event along with links to the press coverage (click on the headline to access the link):
1. Nitisha Khanna and mother wear Khudai
[fashiondiva.in]
2. Celebrity spotting at Science of Living satsang
[indiajournal.com]
3. Science of Living spends 40 lakhs on single event
[indiacults.com]
4. The Khanna–Singhal wedding week begins
[newstoday.in]
5. Family rift: Arjun Khanna missing from sister’s wedding festivities [page3gossip.com/delhi]
6. Amy Khanna gives SoL’s Priye Ma three diamond sets
[page3gossip.com/delhi]
Till next time, do remember to touch three lives through the Rhombus of Reliance.
Blessings to you all!
Suchishmito Bandhopadhyay
Editor, SoL to Soul Magazine
‘I can’t do it,’ Arjun told his mother on the phone.
‘What do you mean you can’t do it?’ Amrita gasped.
‘Mom, the site is almost a 100 kilometres beyond Gurgaon,’ he reasoned. ‘How do you expect me to reach New Delhi railway station in an hour?’
‘Dahling, you know how much Nani loves you. She’ll be devastated if you don’t pick her up,’ his mother said sweetly.
‘She loves Chinky more, send her instead.’
‘Nitisha,’ Amrita said, emphasizing her daughter’s name, ‘is not allowed to step out of the house until after the wedding. It’s a bad omen.’
‘That’s too bad, because the wedding is at a hotel,’ he reminded her.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Mom, even if I leave immediately, I won’t be able to make it to the station in time. Can’t you send one of our twenty-three first cousins?’ he asked, exasperated.
‘They are our guests. It would be rude to send them out for errands,’ his mother chided.
‘They’re just scared of Nani,’ he said. ‘Why can’t Dad go to the station?’
‘Because he’s supervising the decorations,’ Amrita explained.
‘That’s what the wedding planners are for. In fact, they’re charging us a small fortune, tell them to go pick up Nani.’
‘You’re the only one who can do this,’ she insisted.
‘What about you?’ he pointed out.
‘Arjun Khanna, your grandmother is seventy-nine years old and she might die any day. Do you really want to send her to her grave wishing you had picked her up from the railway station one last time?’ Amrita demanded.
Arjun knew he was fighting a lost battle. Firstly, his mother wouldn’t give in till she had convinced him. Secondly, his grandmother was more likely to be annoyed by his tardiness than his absence. And thirdly, Nani was not dying any time soon. Which was the primary reason he didn’t want to risk her wrath.
Despite the dramatic picture Amrita had just painted, Nani was hale and hearty. She could drink Arjun under the table any day and knew more bad words in Punjabi than he knew in all the four languages he spoke, combined. She hated air travel because it was ‘unsafe’, but Arjun suspected the real reason was that airport security didn’t allow passengers to carry hip flasks on their person.
‘Fine,’ Arjun sighed. ‘But I’m going to tell her I’m late because of you.’
‘No!’ Amrita said hastily. ‘Just say you had to take Nitisha for a fitting.’
Arjun hung up the phone with a resigned sigh. For a few moments, he studied the ten acres of land in front of him. After three years, the Supreme Court had overturned the high court’s order scrapping the land acquisition by Khanna Developers. The petitions of the Haryana farmers had been dismissed and the Khannas had breathed easy. The cost of the land itself was 100 crores, and by the time Arjun was done with it, the units would sell for close to 400 crores.
The February breeze was cool against his face and the sun was shining pleasantly, balancing the chill in the air. Arjun closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was barely noon and he was already exhausted.
In Mexico last week, Arjun and Ali had finished an entire bottle of scotch between the two of them. They drank till the sun came up and in a moment of candidness, Ali had told Arjun to ‘live a little’. At that time Arjun had simply looked away from his best friend, but he knew exactly what Ali meant.
Arjun had always been a hard worker, but ever since taking over the family business he had become a downright workaholic. On an average, he worked eighteen hours a day, and often woke up in the middle of the night, worried about an email he hadn’t sent, a calculation error he thought he’d made, or an approval he’d forgotten to give. Arjun couldn’t remember the last time he had slept for more than three hours at a stretch. He loved his job, but he knew he needed to have a life outside of work. He should have helped Chinky plan the wedding, he thought remorsefully.
Maybe, Arjun thought as he slid behind the wheel, his father was right about driving being the most tiring part of the day. But Arjun refused to hire a chauffeur because not only did he hate the idea of being driven around by someone but also because, for some reason, driving seemed to calm him. He rolled down his sleeves and raked a hand through his hair. Nani hated shabbiness and he didn’t want to give her another reason to reprimand him.
He started the car and dialled a number on his cell phone. His assistant picked up on the first ring, her voice clear through the car speakers. ‘Yes, Arjun?’
‘Annie Aunty,’ he said, addressing her by the same name he had used since he was five years old. ‘I won’t be coming in today.’
His dad’s former secretary and one of Khanna Developers’ first employees, Annabelle Dias came straight to the point. ‘Do you want me to hold your calls?’
‘Yes. I have to pick up Nani from the station and I doubt she’ll take kindly to interruptions.’
He could almost hear Annie Aunty smile through the phone. ‘Good luck.’
Arjun hung up and sent his sister a text:
I can bet Nani intentionally planned her travel the day after the satsang.
Chinky replied instantly:
I wouldn’t take that bet since I’m the one who changed her tickets. #DontTellAmy
Arjun chuckled to himself. Nani was on their team and he really was looking forward to seeing her.
Three days to the wedding
Risha let the camera drop into her hand strap and relaxed her fingers. One of the guys in her photography group had recommended a hand strap, and at a thousand bucks, it was a great investment. Though Risha’s reporting time was 2 p.m., she had arrived at the venue around noon—the extra couple of hours gave her time to wander the grounds, take light readings and test shots.
The venue for the mehndi was the Mezzanine Garden at Khanna Heights, and it was roughly the size of a football field. White canopy drapes arched overhead, and large round tables with lilac spreads and white painted wooden chairs were scattered sporadically in the garden. The bride’s seat, a vintage swing, was placed a few feet into the garden, with a white settee and purple brocade bolsters on either side. Lotus flowers floated leisurely in the white fountain at the centre of the garden and brass lanterns hung from peripheral trees. At the fa
r end of the garden, the adjoining stone amphitheatre steps were accented with strings of purple orchids and large silk cushions in ivory and mauve, and the bar was set up on its cobblestone stage.
Risha took a seat on a step of the amphitheatre right behind the bar, pleased that she could see the entire garden from her vantage point. The sky was slightly overcast and the sun peeked through every few minutes.
Luckily Risha’s call with Nitisha had been very encouraging. They had chatted amiably for fifteen minutes and by the end of the conversation, Risha was convinced that Nitisha was the ideal client. Her response to most things had been ‘Totally your call’ or ‘If you think that will work’ or ‘I trust your judgment’. In the past, Risha had dealt with a few bridezilla types who insisted on micromanaging everything, so Nitisha giving her complete creative freedom had come as a relief.
Nitisha had mentioned her brother a couple of times in the passing, and both times Risha had found herself holding her breath.
‘My brother is hosting the Game Night at his penthouse,’ Nitisha said. ‘The swimming pool is not very big, but it’ll make an interesting backdrop. Bhai picked the theme of the party—he loves old video games.’
One more thing she knew about Arjun Khanna.
Risha heard the white entry gate creak and looked up. The wedding planner, Tanvi, walked in with her clipboard, rattling off instructions through her Bluetooth earpiece. After a couple of minutes, she pressed a small button at her ear and waved at Risha. Risha waved back and jumped off the steps. ‘What’s up, Shorty?’
At 5'2", Tanvi was several inches shorter than Risha. She had beautiful almond-shaped eyes, a gorgeous dusky complexion, and a spunky confidence that often turned the most self-assured men into simpering idiots. And then there was her famous Punjabi temper.
Currently, Tanvi was dressed in a light-green lehenga with a tiny peach blouse and a crinkled silk dupatta draped across her body and knotted at her slim waist. Even though Risha hadn’t seen the bride yet, she was sure Tanvi could give Nitisha a run for her money.
Risha glanced down at her own sleeveless yellow top and black jeans. She had tied her long hair in a loose fishtail braid—she couldn't afford random flyaways obstructing her lens—and the only make-up she had worn was some kajal[23]. For a wedding photographer she looked just fine, but for some reason she suddenly felt grossly underdressed. She felt, in fact, like a Mumbai taxi.
‘The usual,’ Tanvi said, rolling her eyes. ‘Crazy mother, cranky grandmother, pervy cousin.’
Risha gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Luckily I only take instructions from the couple.’
‘That’s what you think. Wait till you meet the rest of them,’ Tanvi muttered.
‘Damn. And here I was thinking they’re a normal bunch,’ Risha said.
Tanvi laughed like that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. ‘Earlier today, one of the chachas[24] threw a major temper tantrum because the bar wasn’t open.’
‘That’s not unusual at a Punjabi wedding,’ Risha said.
‘At 10 a.m., Rish,’ Tanvi said, shaking her head in frustration. ‘He wanted a drink at ten in the bloody morning!’
‘Wow.’
‘Yup. And then he threatened to fire me and call the “real professionals” from Shaadi Mubarak.’
‘What’s Shaadi Mubarak?’
‘The fictional wedding-planning company from the movie Band Baaja Baraat.’
Risha bit back a smile. ‘You should’ve told him to go ahead.’
‘I should’ve told him to fuck off! Instead I had to bribe him not to throw the contents of his fruit basket out the window and into the swimming pool, one fruit at a time,’ Tanvi said, looking about ready to yank her hair out of her scalp.
‘What did you bribe him with?’
‘One Black Label miniature per fruit,’ Tanvi snorted with disgust.
Risha chuckled. ‘Look at the bright side, only four more days to go!’
‘I’m so tired of this crap. I’m going on a long vacation as soon as this wedding is over,’
Tanvi sighed. ‘Anyway, Nitisha is nearly ready, so you can go up and take some photos of the family before they all come down here.’
‘What floor?’
‘Thirty-ninth, the one below the penthouse. Your key card gives you complete access to all floors in the building, including the penthouse lobby,’ Tanvi said.
Over the next couple of hours, Risha tirelessly took shots of the family in Amrita and Arvind Khanna’s luxurious five-bedroom apartment. Nitisha had introduced her to most of the guests, and thankfully Risha was good with names, because both the bride and groom came from very large families. Risha glanced at the last image of Nitisha twirling in her green ankle-length lehenga as her cousins watched the circumference of the fabric in wonder. She also found an image of Nitisha and Rohan looking out the balcony, engrossed in conversation. Risha had taken that shot, literally, behind their backs.
There were many other images of Nitisha, Rohan, their respective parents and grandparents. Nitisha’s Nani was seemingly the chief guest at the wedding—the women of the family tiptoed around her and the men of the family treated her with distant reverence. Nani loved being photographed but never smiled for the photos because she considered it undignified. Instead, she sat erect in her chair and stared blankly into the camera. In every single picture.
The real challenge for Risha at this wedding would be capturing Nani’s smile. Or rather, getting Nani to smile in the first place. Risha had slyly managed to take a shot of Nani scowling at her daughter Amrita ‘Amy’ Khanna. It was evident that the two women couldn’t stand each other. As Joshiji, the photo editor at NT always said, ‘The camera never lies.’
Risha had taken pictures of a few dozen cousins, a score of chachis and masis[25], a group of close friends and even of the beautiful, but ostentatious, living room of Amrita and Arvind Khanna. Everything and everyone had been clicked several times over except the bride’s brother. Risha wondered if he really wasn’t present or if he just excelled at avoiding her lens. Her question was answered a few minutes later when Rohan’s phone rang.
‘Yes,’ he responded. ‘Okay,’ he added, glancing at Amrita. ‘Got it,’ he said, hanging up the phone. He sure was a man of few words, Risha thought.
Rohan turned to his fiancée and whispered, ‘Please ask your mother to stop calling your brother. He just got back from the site, he’ll get ready and come down to the venue in a while.’
Risha snapped a picture of the exchange and Rohan looked up at her. He smiled sheepishly and Risha captured that too.
‘There’s no escape, Rohan,’ she teased.
Rohan raised his hands up in surrender and shot Risha a smile before following his fiancée.
‘Hey you!’ a heavy voice called out to Risha.
Nani.
‘Yes, Auntyji?’
‘Take my photo.’
‘Nani,’ said one of Nitisha’s cousins, ‘she is a candid photographer. You can’t tell her to take photos.’
‘What is candy photograafer, Pinku? She has thee camera, she will take thee photo,’ Nani said with finality.
‘It’s okay,’ Risha said. ‘I can take a few shots, Pinku.’
‘Pankaj,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Myself Pankaj Sabharwal.’
‘Chalo[26], Candy. Photo kheecho[27],’ Nani commanded.
‘Sure, Auntyji,’ Risha said.
‘You can call me Nani like thee others call. And take good photo, this will be my dying photo with thee haar[28] on it,’ Nani explained.
Risha suppressed a smile and adjusted her lens.
‘Okay, Candy, I’m ready. Take it properly,’ Nani nodded, sitting up straighter than before and staring blankly into the camera.
‘I’ll try my best, Nani,’ Risha said, swiftly taking a couple of shots.
‘Weer you are from?’ Nani asked, adjusting the crepe dupatta of her salwar kameez.
‘Amritsar,’ Risha replied, taking a close-up of
Nani’s wrinkled fingers on the border of her light-green dupatta.
Nani shot her an interested look. ‘Punjabi ho[29]?’
‘Hanji[30].’ Risha nodded.
‘Surname batao[31]?’
‘Kohli.’
‘Oh, khatri Punjabi?’ Nani beamed, referring to her caste.
‘Hanji,’ Risha said.
‘We are also same-to-same,’ Nani said. ‘But Khanna is superior to Kohli.’
‘Nani!’ Nitisha sputtered, appearing behind her grandmother with an appalled expression. ‘I think that’s enough talk about the Punjabi caste hierarchy.’ She mouthed ‘sorry’ to Risha, and Risha mouthed back ‘it’s okay’.
‘But I am only telling thee truth,’ Nani said innocently.
‘As always,’ Nitisha muttered. ‘Nani, we need to go down to the garden now, Pinku will take you. Risha, I’ll see you downstairs?’ she hinted, heading towards the door.
‘Sure, I’ll be right down,’ Risha assured Nitisha before turning to her grandmother. ‘I’ll see you later, Nani.’
‘You diddunt show me thee photo, Candy.’
Risha bent down and showed Nani her camera screen. Nani looked pleased. ‘Pinku, tell Mummy to use this photo when I die.’
Pinku gave Nani an earnest Indian-style nod, then turned to Risha with a shy smile. ‘Actually, Pinku is my pet name. My good name is Pankaj Sabharwal,’ he explained, handing her a visiting card from a chrome cardholder.
‘Nice to meet you, Pankaj,’ Risha smiled, absently shoving the card into her pocket. ‘I better head downstairs, see you around!’
‘Okay, yes. Thank you. Same here, I mean. Okay, see you,’ Pinku blushed, watching Risha disappear.
The Wedding Photographer Page 7