Page 166 of 12 Years
‘I know.’
‘I heard he almost had a heart attack.’
‘Yeah …’
‘I pray that nothing happens to him. But God forbid, if something does happen, don’t you want him around and happy on your wedding day?’
‘Stop crying, babe. It’s spoiling your make-up,’ Akanksha said. ‘Oh dear, that mascara is ruined. Where’s the make-up lady?’
The tears wouldn’t stop. Within a month after that lunch with Parimal at Urban Tadka, I sat facing a mirror in a suite at the Four Seasons Hotel in Worli. The hotel’s banquet hall and the garden right outside it made up the venue for my marriage with Parimal. Ironically, on our first date, Saket and I had come to Aer, the rooftop bar in the same hotel.
The hairdresser turned on the hair dryer, the noise helping to drown out the sound of my sobbing.
‘I don’t want to do this, Akanksha. I can’t do this,’ I said.
‘You can, Payal. You’re just nervous,’ Akanksha said. She turned to the hairdresser and instructed her, ‘Give more volume here no? And don’t cover her forehead so much.’
‘I don’t want to get dressed, Akanksha. I don’t even want this marriage.’ I was panicking by now.
‘Shh …’ Akanksha said, ‘don’t talk like that.’
I broke down completely. The hairdresser had to stop doing my hair as my whole body was shaking.
Akanksha held me by my shoulders. ‘Calm down, babe. What’s the matter with you?’
‘I want to call Saket.’
‘Why?’
‘He was right. He said we aren’t dealing with rational people. That we should run away. I want to run away.’
‘Payal,’ Akanksha said. ‘Come to your senses. This is about your future, my love. You can’t ruin your life over some stupid thing that you had with an older guy.’
‘I just want to talk to him once. May I?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m your best friend and I can’t let you do what is bad for you.’
She handed me some tissues. It took me a few minutes to compose myself. The make-up lady came in and began fixing my make-up again.
‘It’s normal for girls to cry at their wedding, madam,’ the woman said to me, reapplying some eye shadow. ‘Every bride does. It’s okay to have doubts. You’ll be fine. Try your best not to cry now. I’ll also give you extra-absorbent tissues. Use them to dab the tears immediately.’
There, the solution to my misery—extra-absorbent tissues to wipe off my tears the moment they spilled out. After dolling me up, they took me downstairs. My red zardozi lehenga weighed more than twenty kilos. It forced me to enter the banquet hall in slow motion. The Punjabi folk song ‘Din Shagna Da’ played in the background, making my entry look extra graceful and romantic. Guests threw rose petals at me as I walked to the stage. Now, even if I cried, it would look like happy tears. In any case, I had the extra-absorbent tissues clutched in my hand.
The day after my wedding, I arrived at my in-laws’ house, also located in Ghatkopar, for the Sva Graha Aagamana ceremony. This is a Jain tradition, where the new bride is formally welcomed by the groom’s family into her new home. I hadn’t slept the previous night due to the pheras taking forever to complete. Even at Parimal’s house, the ceremonies continued all day. Underprepared, tired and sleep-deprived, I was led to a bedroom in the house, to spend my first night there with Parimal.
One of Parimal’s older married cousin sisters said to me, ‘Take it slow, okay? Tell him to be soft and gentle.’
I couldn’t tell her that Saket and I liked it hard and rough. I simply looked at the floor to act like the perfect shy bahu. ‘Okay, Didi,’ I said.
‘But don’t forget to have fun,’ she said and winked at me as she left me in the bedroom.
I looked around myself. Like they show in the suhaag-raat scenes in Hindi movies from the eighties, the entire bedroom was decked up with flowers.
What was I supposed to do now? Sit like a coy bride, with the ghoonghat over my head?
