Page 81 of 12 Years
‘Baby, are you sure?’
I shushed her, placing my finger against her lips. ‘I’ve been told that men have fought wars for love. I can visit a temple.’
Siddhivinayak, in Dadar, is one of Mumbai’s most popular temples. Dedicated to Lord Ganesha, it draws huge crowds ofdevotees from morning to night. Payal’s parents believed in doing an early-morning darshan, at 4 a.m.
The night before their intended visit—and my planned ‘bumping into them’—I had a show until midnight. After the show, I hung around at the Crayon Club bar.
‘What’s up, bro? How was the show?’ Mudit said as he came and sat next to me.
‘The show was good,’ I said.
‘And how’s life?’
‘Life’s complicated at the moment.’
‘Really? What happened? And how’s that schoolgirl you’re dating? What’s her name?’
‘Payal. And she’s not a schoolgirl. She’s a private equity analyst. With Blackwater. And we’re serious. You know all this. Not funny, Mudit.’
Mudit laughed.
I maintained a serious expression.
‘Okay, tell me everything. What’s going on? And by the way, why are you wearing a kurta today?’ Mudit said.
‘Yes, I’ll tell you. I’m supposed to meet her parents in a couple of hours …’ I then went on to recount everything that had happened on that crazy day.
Mudit’s mouth hung open as I finished.
‘And now, I plan to run into her parents at 4 a.m., at Siddhivinayak, and make an elevator pitch. For our relationship. That’s why the kurta.’
‘Bro, wait,’ Mudit said, letting out a long breath. ‘Are you saying that Payal’s parents saw your junior?’
‘Stop it, dude, and yes,’ I said.
Mudit burst out laughing. ‘Bro, you have to do a comedy set about this. I’m telling you, it’ll be a massive hit.’
‘Mudit, this is my life. And I’m suffering,’ I said and stood up to leave.
‘The best jokes come out of life and suffering,’ Mudit called after me, still laughing.
‘We left home ten minutes ago,’ I received Payal’s message.
It was 3.40 a.m. I was half a kilometre away from Siddhivinayak, having decided to walk from the comedy club to the temple.
‘Great, I’m just about to reach,’ I replied, crossing the last traffic signal before the temple.
The Siddhivinayak Temple is relatively small as compared to other famous temples in India. Mumbai’s space constraints apply to everything, including places of worship. While the temple wasn’t exactly crowded at this hour, it was still buzzing with activity. The bright temple lights and the sound of bells ringing, all set against the pitch-dark pre-dawn sky, made the experience of being there even more ethereal.
I’d reached the temple before the Jains arrived. I went into the sanctum sanctorum, where the saffron-coloured idol of Lord Ganesha is placed for darshan. Another name for Lord Ganesha is Vighnaharta, which means ‘remover of obstacles’. As I bowed and prayed to him, I wondered if he would remove my obstacles. I apologized for what I’d done wrong, and prostrated myself before him, my face touching the floor. I got up, and the priest applied a saffron tilak on my forehead.
When I turned around, I saw Payal and her parents standing a few steps away. My heartbeat quickened. Payal noticed me, but she didn’t react. I quickly moved aside to let her family complete their darshan. Like me, they bowed, they prayed and the priest applied tilak on their foreheads. As they stepped away from the idol, I approached them.
‘Uncle, hi,’ I said, and regretted it instantly. Why did I have to say ‘uncle’? Fortunately, my voice was drowned out by the ringing of the temple bells.
‘Namaste, Mr Jain, nice to see you here,’ I said a little loudly, and folded my hands.
It took a few seconds for Anand Jain to register who I was. When he did, he recoiled like he’d spotted a venomous snake. He grabbed Payal’s arm to ensure she remained with him.
