THE DAYLILY

 MY SHORT STORY ENTRY TO THE TIMES OF INDIA - WRITE INDIA CONTEST 2016.

“A daylily is a fragile and a beautiful flower that opens in the early morning and withers the following night. Although this alluring flower is short lived it leaves an intoxicating aroma that fills an eternal enchantment in the mind and soul of the beholder.”

Sumithra woke up after five hours of unconsciousness caused by the epidural shot given to her during that complicated C-section. Her eyes were feeling sore and body not completely regained from its numbness due to the anesthesia. She felt an inexplicable stinging pain on her back and was unable to get up from her bed. Although her eyes were trying their best to capture a clear vision, her mind unfazed by that immense pain her body was going through was fixed only on one thought – about her newly born.

The labor room was looking gloomy and melancholy with that obnoxious and pungent odor of all those medicines and IV given to her. She looked around to get a glimpse of her bundle of joy as she noticed her mother approaching her. 

“It’s a boy Sumi” as her mother told caressing her on her forehead Sumithra’s eyes met her mothers’. That element of bliss and ecstasy about a new entrant on the mother earth, that jubilance that her daughter is now a mother was missing in her mother’s eyes. 

Sumithra checked out for her husband whom she was rather anticipating to have been the first person running to her and cuddle her with joy to celebrate their happiness was sitting quietly at the guest’s cot in the labor room with a sullen and a grieving face. She was baffled.

“Where is my little boy mama?”

“Uh... The paediatrician has taken the baby for some check up dear... the regular ones...  Don’t worry. They will be here with him any moment. You take some rest now.”

Sumithra felt this bizarre queasiness in her mother’s voice as she spoke. 

“Raghu did you see him? How is he like? You or me?” She questioned her husband eagerly albeit in a strained voice, he sat across nonchalantly rather avoiding to respond or strike any conversation with her.

After almost half hour, as Sumithra was lying on her bed twitchy waiting anxiously to get that first look of her child, the nurse carried him to her room. 

He was bundled in a white sheet of cloth covered from head to toe.  As the nurse unwrapped him Sumithra noticed some tapes or some band-aid kind of strips put across his shoulders and back. She thought they could be some injections that they usually give for the newly born. She was striving hard to get up to look at her child. Her mom helped her sit upright supporting her back with a pillow behind while the nurse gently placed her baby on Sumithra’s forearms and gave her the basic instructions for the first step to breast-feed him. As his tiny lips stroke her bosom and his delicate skin touched hers she experienced those mystical vibes sweeping all across her body. As her little one sucked the colostrum a tingling sense of euphoria filled her mind and soul and she felt complete for the first time.

“His smile is like yours Raghu!” as Sumithra exclaimed examining her child for the first time since her baby arrived she noticed something odd with him. There was a distinct characteristic facial feature that distinguished him different from a normal baby. His eyes were poppy and slanted, a flat nasal bridge and lips were slightly bulged.

“Doesn’t his face appear somewhat different mama? Is he OK mama?” as Sumithra inquired anxious and perturbed her mom could no longer contain her emotions and burst into tears. Sumithra was taken aback by her mother’s sudden and unexpected reaction and saw tears trickle down Raghu’s cheeks as well.

“What’s the matter? Could one of you please tell me what is happening?” as she bawled at them, Raghu spoke to her for the first time in that one hour since she came back to her senses post the operation.

“Sumi, there is something which I am sure will not be pleasing for you to listen from me that I restrained from telling you since you woke up. I want you to gather immense courage to hear this. God has been utterly cruel and merciless on us. Our child is not normal. He is born mentally challenged associated with some terminal illness. He might not live with us for very long...” as Raghu unleashed his suppressed emotions; there was a poignant lull that filled the labor room.

Sumithra sat stoic and frozen like ice. She cleared that hard lump in her throat and screamed hysterically.

“What the hell are you talking Raghu? Where is the doctor? I want to talk to her right now.”

“Please clam down Sumi. You should not exert yourself so much now. You will get to talk to the doctor but not now in this condition.” 

As Sumithra’s mother tried pacifying her, she yelled at her with utmost rage, wrath and disappointment.

“What are you blabbing mama? I have to talk to the doctor to know what is wrong with my child. I need to know how I can help him. I will not believe Raghu...” as she was getting violent and hysterical, the nurses barged into the room and controlled her with some sedatives and laid her to sleep. All through that night Sumithra was moaning and whining about her child incessantly in her sleep.

The next day the chief doctor met Sumithra to explain the conditions of her baby.

“Your son has been diagnosed with Down Syndrome associated with a congenital heart defect. He has an atrioventricular septal defect which causes poor pumping of blood by the arteries in the heart that leads to irregular heartbeats. It is quite strange that we did not identify his problem during your pregnancy by prenatal screening. We discovered his problem only after his birth and immediately conducted all the genetic and chromosomal testing to confirm his medical conditions.  His intellectual and physical disability will decrease as he ages. The worst part is since he is also suffering from chronic heart dysfunction his survival chances are minimal. Apparently we cannot however predict his life span completely. It could be a year or two or if the God wills he might allow him to stay a little longer.”

As those words were flowing from the doctor’s mouth, the harsh and savage reality of Sumithra’s life, of her son’s life shattered her hard and inflicted unparalleled agony in her heart. 

“You will get discharged in a day or two, but we will be keeping your son here another week for observation and further examination. You can come here to feed him every day until then...“as the doctor spoke Sumithra immediately blurted out.

“Is there a cure for my son’s illness doctor? I can do anything to help him get better. Doctor, please tell me is there some hope for him? For me in life?” with tears clouding her eyes Sumithra left the doctor speechless by her anguish.

With a heavy sigh the doctor tried comforting her that there was no specific cure or treatment for his illness however with proper care and education he can survive a little longer. She recommended Sumithra to enroll her son into some institution who handles these special kids with utmost care, love and patience. As parents it would be immensely grueling and demanding for them to completely attend such child’s needs and hence it would be the best to put them in a special school to take care of his needs. She also suggested Sumithra to visit him as frequently as possible.

Sumithra knew that was definitely not the convincing answer to her question, to her inner self. She decided to take him home with her, to be with him her life time, to cater to him with utmost endurance. After all there would be no other better person than a mother who could shower all that warmth and love for a special child like hers.

Sumithra named her son Amar (meaning – “the immortal”). She decided to fight against her destiny and bring back her lost life.

Time flew. Amar completed a year. His heart conditions were stabilizing at times though his mental conditions were degenerating. Raghu was finding hard to handle Amar’s behavioral complexities.

“Sumi we are doing our best but it is not possible for us to do this long. You need to understand the situation. Things are getting difficult with Amar every day. Uh... I think we might have to consider the doctor’s advice and get him admitted in some special institution. We will see him every day.”

Sumithra remained silent for some time and then she spoke.

“Raghu I have promised our son that I will be with him my life time and take care of him. There is no way I will give-up on him. I am sure that God will bestow upon my Amar a little more time to be with me and it is my duty to give all that he wants no matter whatever it takes from me.”

Every day was a struggle. Amar was extremely cranky and troubled most of the times. His inability to express himself irked him all the more but Sumithra never gave-up. She nurtured him like a tender flower, taught him things which were too hard for him to fathom in the easiest way possible, took him to his special school and stayed beside him, played with him and watched him play with other young and innocent kids like him. She took him to places unscathed by the outside world. Even amidst the painful process Sumithra discovered her own peace and happiness in her small world with her special God’s gift. She was confident about protecting Amar from the evil hands of Death.

Every morning they used to spend quality time at their garden sowing new saplings and watering all the other plants. Sumithra watched the plants grow with Amar everyday and believed that he would also thrive as long as possible if only God might give him another chance.

It was a bright sunny morning. Amar was still asleep. He had turned five the previous week. Sumithra was planning for a small party with just her family and very close friends. Raghu had deliberately preoccupied himself with official work in the last couple of months since Sumithra was unable to devote time for him and he was aware of her priorities.

“I will try to be home early today so that we could do a bit of shopping for the party” Raghu told and waved her a goodbye.

It was half past ten and Amar had still not gotten up. Sumithra walked to his bedroom to wake him up. As she stepped close to him she heard him breathe hard with droplets of perspiration scattered all over his face. She felt his heart palpitating at a rapid pace as she touched him on his chest. Her hands were trembling, body shivering with fear. She ran towards the living room and called Raghu immediately. She carried Amar in her arms and rushed to the main gate, locked the gate and fetched a taxi to the hospital. Raghu also arrived there just in time. The doctors strived hard to regain him but all their efforts went futile. The little heart finally rested to peace after hours of struggle.

Sumithra waited in the corridor spectacled Raghu walking towards her from the ICU after speaking with the doctor with an excruciating pain on his face. She passed out the moment the dreadful news came to her. Raghu took her home and she slept through the entire day.

“Mama, my chest is paining.... mama please stay with me...Don’t leave me alone... Mama...I love you....”

Sumithra jolted off from her nightmare. She sat upright bewildered, gawking through their bedroom window.  She felt like someone was waving an adieu to her forever from far in the dark. She looked around for Amar. But he was not lying beside her. She looked around their room. He was nowhere to be seen. She walked towards the window and looked at the flowers they had planted together.  They appeared dry, lifeless and about to wither. It was a bizarre, incomprehensible emotions reverberating through her mind.

 A month passed by since Amar’s untimely demise but Sumithra’s mind was still unsettled, racing to his room to and fro not ready to accept the reality. She felt empty and meaningless left with betrayal in life.

AFTER SIX MONTHS...

Raghu dropped Sumithra at the entrance of the institute and watched her walk inside the campus of “The Sparsh School for mentally and physically challenged”. He looked at a little boy running towards her, his teacher, as she bent down and lifted him up, planted a kiss on his cheeks and embraced him tightly. For the first time in the last six months since the mishap Raghu saw Sumithra happy. Sumithra finally discovered her trail in life, a meaning and reason for her to continue living despite her tragic loss. She walked into her class and saw those magical smiles across all those little ones faces like her Amar. With the feeling that her Amar had been rejuvenated, made immortal, she wiped her tears and arranged the building blocks for the kids!

An Encounter

It was rather a very gruelling and a long day at office. I had completed almost three-fourth of my project module probably with a few more corrections required and still left behind with one-fourth of my assignment. But my mind had reached its threshold limit for that day and I could neither think further nor had the endurance to complete my task. I looked at the clock on my system. It was 8.30 p.m. I shut my system down, packed my laptop and decided to leave for the day. As I reached the exit door my manager noticed me leaving and beckoned me inside his cabin.

“Ashwin have you finished the module? The clients were asking about the progress and I need to submit the project status report tonight.”

“I am almost there at the finishing stage Harish but I am too tired today and need one more day to complete the task. I am planning to login into office early tomorrow and I promise you that it will be done.”

“OK. No issues. Update me once it is over tomorrow.”

Harish was the coolest manager I have ever had. As he gave me that reassuring nod I left the office bay, took the elevator down towards the parking lot at the basement of my office campus. I started my car and decided to pace home as fast as I could. I could hear those growling noises from deep within my intestines. I was famished. But luck did not favour me and my fate wanted to play its own game.

 It was pouring heavily outside and there was minimal visibility on the roads.  Adding to my fury there was some mayhem on the main road, the 13^th Park Avenue road that I normally take home and the traffic was stranded leaving little to no room for any movement. I was determined to fight against this ruthless game of my destiny and decided to drive without stalling.

I took a major deviation from the main road and decided to take an alternative route which was a longer route to my house but one of the silent roads I have ever seen far away from all the hustle and bustle of the traffic. This road is so deserted that I seldom notice any homo sapiens walking around.

The rain was slowing down as I drove into the dark and gloomy road. A bunch of dogs were barking and wailing loudly adding to the eeriness. From far I noticed a little girl sitting at the corner of the road. I was appalled and baffled to see this young girl at a lonely place like this. As my car was nearing her I could hear her sobbing heavily. Although I was in a hurry to reach home probably some humanity in me prohibited me to drive further. I took a deep breath and stopped the car and decided to check on this little girl. I parked the car nearby and walked up towards her. She had buried her face on her knees and covered it with her little palms. 

“Hello dear! Who are you? What are you doing here in this dark? “I questioned her dubiously.

She heard my voice and lifted her face and looked at me. She must have been somewhere between seven or eight years old. Her eyes were puffy and face appeared frightened, extremely pale and sullen. She stared deep into my eyes as though pleading at me helplessly shaking my emotions.

“Uh... Is there some problem? Do you want any help”? I asked her courteously.

“I lost my way back home. I don’t know how to reach my place from here. Could you please drop me at my house uncle? Please?” as she requested me nervously in a sore and an agonizing tone I could not hesitate and apparently wanted to help her. I looked at my watch. It was half past 9 p.m. 

“Uh...Ahem...Sure...Do you know your address or some details about your residence?” I asked.

 As she nodded I lent my hand to her and lifted her up. Her palms were freezing cold and I felt this unexplained queasiness within me the moment her hands touched mine.

She gave me her address. Her house was in the opposite direction as that of mine. I could not leave this girl in this isolated place in the darkness. I helped her get inside my car and drove to her home. 

“What is your name?” I asked.

After a brief moment of reluctance she responded, “Mira”.

That was a very beautiful name that I have ever heard. Quite inquisitively I asked her a couple of questions like how she came there and where her parents were but she refrained answering to any of my questions and remained silent. I realized her discomfort of traveling with a stranger and thereafter stopped probing her.

Finally she halted my car and pointed at her house. She got down a little before her place.

“Do you want me to accompany you to your house?” I asked her politely.

“No uncle. I can walk from here. Thanks.” She told and flashed a smile at me.

I watched her walk towards her home from my car. As the door of her house opened she walked inside. With a sense of gratification I rode back home. That night I was thinking about little Mira and thanked God that I was able to help this poor girl who lost her way.

Next day morning I was gearing up myself for another big day as I had my project submission. I was wading through the newspaper and gobbling my slice of bread. Suddenly my eyes popped out when I came across a particular news column.

          Family dies as their two- wheeler was hit by a water lorry

A family of three, a father, mother and their child were killed on the spot in an accident last night in the 13^th Park Avenue main road at around 7.30 p.m. as their bike ran into a fast speeding water lorry. The lorry driver was arrested immediately and his licence and vehicle were seized. The deceased have been identified as Albert Varghese, 35 years, school teacher at the St. Bethlaham High School; Sara Varghese, 32 years, homemaker and their 8 years old daughter, Mira Varghese studying in class II in the same school where her father was working. They were rushed to the Appolo Hospital in Church Street where they were declared dead at arrival. The bodies have been restored at the hospital for post-mortem and further enquiries and will be handed over to their kin in next 2 days.

                 

 

My heart skipped a beat and my hands were trembling as I saw the photos of the dead family put across the newspaper. I quickly gulped a glass of water and read the news again, again and again. Mira’s face was still fresh in my mind. Her innocent eyes were hounding my heart. I felt an air of spookiness lurking around me. I could not believe my eyes. I checked the time of accident again still unconvinced. I met the girl last night at around 9.30 p.m. which was almost 2 hours after the accident. It was this incident that probably caused the chaos to the traffic on the road last night that forced me to take the diversion. 

“Did I see a ghost or something?” as I asked myself I was gaping at the dead child’s photo on the paper. This was one of the most bizarre encounters that would perhaps haunt me for the rest of my life.

I was contemplating hard. Suddenly I turned philosophical left with a profound introspection into the spiritual world.

“There are always two things – Good and Bad, Happiness and Sorrow, Truth and Lies, Life and Death. If there is God then there should be anti-God too which you may call a paranormal, a ghost or by many other names. Every day hundreds of people die. Some may die naturally while some have an unnatural demise like suicide, accident, murder etc. What happens to all these people who meet their end unintended? Not all the souls reach the heavenly abode. Some still keep wandering around the earthly hemisphere searching for their unfulfilled dreams.”

I could not focus, my mind was unsettled, preoccupied with hundreds of unanswered questions. I washed my hands, drank water again, took my laptop and drove to office. At times I surpass Mira’s house. The “To-Let” board hanging on the door of her house sends a chilling and nostalgic vibration through my spine reminding me of that dreadful night.  And I never got the courage to take that uncanny road ever again!!!

22 Hours

I was lying on my bed indolently not wanting to move my torso even an inch away from my cosy mattress cuddling within those warm rugs provided at our hotel room in Manali. Ten days of my exhilarating vacation with my husband and my four year old son drew to a closure and we had to head back to our home in Chandigarh to get started with our mundane life.

“Nisha wake up honey! We will be late if we don’t start in an hour. Please get up. I will get Vihaan ready meanwhile” as my husband was trying relentlessly to get me up I was looking at my watch to read the time. It was 6.00 a.m. in the morning. The air was cold and bleak covered with fog all over adding to my listlessness. It would take approximately 7.5 hours by road to reach Chandigarh city from Manali but with a few pit stops for food and other things it would take almost 9 to 10 hours. My husband decided to head back home by our car in the morning as it would be a bit perilous to do a night journey especially with our little boy around while we had to surpass a large belt of hairpin bent roads on the hills which are quite steep, narrow and with scarcity for street lights.

After I got ready I did some last minute packing, checked if we had cleared all our stuffs from the room, locked the room and the three of us walked down to the dining to have our breakfast.

“Rishi I will settle the bill at the hotel desk meanwhile you load our baggages in the car.” I told my husband who carried our bags in the trolley towards the parking lot.

Finally we turned on the engine and geared towards the gate as I was bracing myself for the next 9 odd hours on the road. Vihaan dropped asleep a little later. I looked through the window staring at the mesmerising beauty of the scenic landscape and the serenity of the surroundings. The sun obscured behind the misty clouds leaving sparse visibility on the roads.

We were travelling through the Kullu hills with steep rocky walls on one side of the road and a deep gorge on the other side. I had packed some snacks for us and sufficient food products for Vihaan from our home in Chandigarh to manage the drive to and fro. We decided to have lunch in some Dhabha in Sundar Nagar in the Mandi district on our way back. I was trying hard not to doze off to help Rishi overcome the dreariness of the long drive and kept chit-chatting with him intermittently.

There were quite a large number of trucks lined ahead of our car and a few other vehicles were advancing behind us. Every vehicle was moving at snail pace. It was half past 9 a.m. Not too far from the Hanogi temple in the Mandi district on the NH21 we were travelling Rishi and I noticed a cloud of muddy smoke appearing from the rocky hills. It was not very clear as there were huge vehicles in front of us masking the view.

“Rishi did you see that smoke? What is that? Where is it coming from?” as I questioned my husband anxiously, he quite nonchalantly responded to me saying that it was nothing and asked me to remain silent as the noise might wake up our little one who was sleeping oblivious of things happening around him.

Suddenly huge boulders were collapsing from the mountain on the road into the Beas River besieging one of the trucks that stood a few yards away from our car. I was stoic as I witnessed that massive landslide that shook the mother earth, destroying a huge portion of the national highways we were travelling, leaving that truck in a battered state apparently taking away the lives of the driver and the cleaner who were seated inside.

I screamed, shrieked at the top of my voice waking up my little boy in a jolt who was petrified immensely by my wails and started crying copiously. Rishi who was also equally shuddered by that incident tried to console me and our child. I regained my composure and tried to hide the panic on my face from Vihaan and took him and embraced him providing him a sense of reassurance.

“What’s that mama?” my son asked me nervously.

“Oh baby! It’s nothing dear. It was some rocks that have fallen from the hills. Nothing to worry. Just calm down. Papa will drive us home.” I tried comforting him in a trembling voice.

The landslide lasted only for a few minutes but created a staggering havoc on the roads stranding all the vehicles on the highway on both sides of it.

“Both of you stay inside the car. I will step out and check the condition and see if we have some room on the road to sneak through our car.” Rishi instructed me and went down the road to inspect the situation.

A large crowd of people gathered near the debris to analyse how they could move their vehicles. I saw Rishi talking to a few truck drivers probably discussing the possibilities of removing our car from the catastrophe.

“Mama where has papa gone?” asked Vihaan.

“Sweetheart, daddy has gone to see how we can take the car out of this place. He will be back soon. Do you want some water to drink or anything to eat?” as I enquired my little fellow he hinted on wanting to attend the nature’s call.

I took him outside the car and walked him towards one of the hill’s corners. He was afraid after all that scene and feeling a bit coy about doing it in the public but I persuaded that there was no other option and convinced him.

After a while Rishi marched towards us. Vihaan was gobbling up some snacks that I had offered him.

“It looks like we are in a fix. It might take a long time to clear all this and provide way for the vehicles to move. One of them out there called the national highway authorities and some district authorities too. They are on their way. They will have to scrutinize the reason for this landslide and decipher the options for clearing the debris.” As Rishi spoke in a sullen tone I was gaping at him appalled.

“How long would that take Rishi?”

“Not sure. We will have to wait.” I realized that he was clueless as much as I was from that perturbed expression on his face.

Eight hours of incessant waiting surpassed as our car stood at the same point with three of us seated inside wearily. All the authorities arrived, examined the area, deployed some workers and installed huge JCB machines to clear the mess. Vihaan was getting cranky and twitchy. The noise from the excavators was irksome. Rishi and I tried to engage him to overcome the hiatus and the boredom of being stuck at one place. Food and water stock with us was also slowly running short. We were left with only 1 bottle of water for all three of us. I thought I could buy extra bottles of water at any food joint on our way to Mandi district and did not foresee the need to carry more bottles.

The anxiety within me doubled as we completed 16 hours of our waiting period. The sun came down leaving a scary darkness of uncertainty behind. The air was still and cold. The night was gloomy with minimal lights for the workers. Every traveller around were annoyed and worried about their movement forward. The silence of the hills was uncanny and haunting me throughout the night. My metabolic activities stopped. I did not feel hungry nor had the courage to attend my nature’s call in the eerie darkness outside. Vihaan could not sleep and was waking up too often disturbed with terrible nightmares. Except for some buzzing chattering noise of the travellers on the road there weren’t much activity.

The highway authorities provided a temporary relief by diverting the traffic from Chandigarh to Manali via an alternative Kamandi-Mandi route however people travelling from Manali had to stay in the same point on the road as it was not possible to move two-way traffic. Fate was really hard on us that day playing with and testing our endurance. Rishi was restless too. He stepped down the car too often to check the status of the clearance. A little later I dropped asleep unknowingly.

I opened my eyes. It was rather a bright sunny morning. I felt a sudden jerk from the car. Rishi was trying to start the engine. I woke up with a trickle of astonishment in my eyes.

“Rishi has everything cleared now? Are you starting the car?” as I asked him I looked around from the windows of our car. The passage was getting clear and I saw the trucks before us moving forward albeit slowly.

“Yes. The PWD workers joined the NHAI team last night to enable a faster clearance of the debris and regulate the traffic.” Rishi told.

His words reverberated an enormous sense of joy and relief within me. I looked at my watch. It was 7.00 a.m. We went stand still for 22 hours and finally the wait came to a stall. Vihaan was asleep. The roads were not perfect but repaired sufficient enough to restore our movement.

After almost 6 hours with immense urge to reach our home in Chandigarh, Rishi finally hit the city and drove to our residence. I sighed a great relief at the look of the facade of my apartment. Rishi parked the car and helped me carry the bags to our apartment in the third floor. Vihaan was too tired and exhausted. I opened the door, bent down and picked the newspaper and left it on the couch. Carried the bags and dropped them inside the bedroom. Rishi and Vihaan lay on the couch trying to relax after the gruelling journey. I visited the washroom, freshened up and went inside the kitchen to prepare something to eat and drink as all of us were starving.

Rishi picked up the newspaper from the couch and read the headlines on the main page.
“Chandigarh-Manali Highway Blocked After Major Landslide stranding huge traffic”

PS: On Dec 7th 2015 a major landslide occured on the National Highway 21 (NH 21) connecting Chandigarh-Manali in India. No casualities happened though the traffic was immensely affected for almost the entire day. The NHAI team restored the situation back to normal after 2 days.

Watch the video of this landslide under the following link

http://www.ndtv.com/india-news/chandigarh-manali-highway-blocked-after-major-landslide-1251944
 

“I Do” (Do I?)

People say marriage brings spice, tears, happiness, flavour and taste to life. Personally, I believe Paani Puri does a better job at a cheaper cost :-)

 

I quite recently attended a wedding of one of my husband’s close cousin. It was an Indian more precisely a south Indian Brahmin arranged marriage. Weddings are always crammed with a plethora of emotions of all those involved in the arrangement proceedings. While for many it is a time for fun and pleasure, for a few it is a pressure surmounted on them to conduct the event in a satisfactory fulfillment. I often wonder why is there so much of noise about arranging a marriage in the Indian society. Love marriages are only a little different from an arranged one. The only consolation with the former is that the girl knows the boy before the marriage however the complexity of a marriage still prevails. He no longer remains the same one she was once acquainted with post marriage. He carries this whole new husband image about him in front of her and brings his family along with him whom she had to please besides her new husband.

I belonged to the bride’s side of this marriage I was a part of.  It was a typical arranged marriage.

Girl meets the boy in the presence of her and his parents and a few elders who are the ones who ostensibly keep showering their advices from their experiences in conducting marriages as and when the parents consult them. After a brief moment of exchanging a few words with each other probably in a little private room that these days’ so-called modern parents offer them, the boy and girl concede for the marriage. Quite jubilantly both side parents exchange the thambulam (a plate with fruits and flowers) as a sign of accepting each other as their would-be affine/in-laws. Now starts the whole drama of organizing this grand life-time event of their daughter.

 It starts with fixing the dates for the marriage; finding a suitable wedding hall at your affordability standards comfortable enough (though you cannot evade the criticism about the room quality and whining of the relatives, who stay there); followed by fixing the cook. Brahmin marriages are known for their gluttony for food. Every soul treats food as the prime most aspect in their life while all the other things ceases to exist when it comes to eating a meal at the wedding. Extra care has to be taken by the bride’s father in getting the best cook to gratify every watering mouth. Every single close associate of the bride’s parents keep pouring their valuable comments and opinion (even when not required) about each step of the bride’s parents in orchestrating the show. 

This is followed by a grandeur shopping for the bride and the groom to look their best attire on the d-day.  I just read somewhere that across the globe, India is the foremost country where weddings are conducted at a magnificent scale with abundance of money and opulence splashed in an unparalleled magnitude (am still unclear as to why so much for just “a marriage”). After fixing the purohit (a family priest), floral decoration, Nadaswaram and Mridangam (auspicious instruments played in south Indian weddings) and a few other miscellaneous expenses incurred the bride’s parents starts distributing the wedding invitation cards to their respective family members.

On the D-Day, people pour in to witness this gala event. A few come in with genuine best wishes for the new couple, while a few with a malicious contentment just like how they are struggling with their marriage come to see who are these terrible pitiable two’s who have decided to be stringed in their life together in this mysterious trap called “marriage”.  The girl is undoubtedly the cynosure of all eyes with pressure built on her to appear the most beautiful women on this earth as though she is contesting for some beauty pageant and the people who have come for the marriage are the judges.

The event progresses with a cacophony of chattering people across the hall divided into different groups. There is one group of senile grumpy visitors/relatives who are constantly worried about the respect and treatment offered to them at the marriage by the bride’s parents stirring unnecessary controversies, another a group of young bachelors gibbering about some hot girls in the hall, then a bunch of bachelorettes contemplating about when they would get married, a group of men and women discussing about how good or bad the food was and what element of spice or sweetness was missing in it, few young mothers running behind their little ones to feed them, children running around, then comes the bride’s parents filled with pride about their daughter’s marriage and a bit of anxiousness about her married life in her new in-laws place, the grooms’ parents filled with happiness for their son, a mother-in-law probably with a slight anticipation of getting a new girl in assisting her in the house-hold chores. Amidst all these chaos there is this one person seated nonchalantly next to the groom with a pile of mixed emotions spinning across her mind and heart – “the bride”. She is excited, anxious, nervous, and angry about some things, depressed about leaving her parents, bewildered. Her state is something beyond any Homo sapiens’ apprehension.

Finally- the climax of this whole wedding drama. At the auspicious moment decided by God and deciphered by a human astrologer, the groom ties the knot around the bride as the wedding arena spectacles an enormous amount of water works happening everywhere. Tears of joy flow incessantly from the eyes of the girl followed by her mother and father, the people around wish the newly married couple by sprinkling the sacred flowers on them.  As the visitors greet the parents, a sense of triumph vibrantly beams across their eyes. The groom smiles proudly because he’s convinced he’s accomplished something quite wonderful. The bride smiles because she’s been able to convince him of it. :-)

As the visitors leave the hall, the boy and the girl brace themselves to the first step in their married life.

I wish the new bride and the groom a happy married life. Hope they discover the happiness in course of time in this mystical journey of marriage!!! :-)

“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.” —Mignon McLaughlin