Chapter 30 – The Bangalore Wedding

The stage was set and everyone was excited for the ultimate day of first of the two weddings. My folks; 10 of them landed in Bangalore to show up for the wedding ceremony. They were only 10 because Kapoors just wanted to display their presence at the Bangalore bridal because according to them the actual wedding would take place in Jaipur . So just for sake of courtesy few of my uncle, aunts and cousins made it to the 1^st marriage ceremony.

Natrajans sent few of their kinsfolks to welcome Kapoors at the airport. Kapoors were received with garland and music band, precisely how they show in the movies. But to me it looked fusion of 2 poles apart ethnicities because, one the composition played by the band resembled more of a traditional south Indian wedding day melody and 2^nd the garlands were so small that it looked like that Kapoors have arrived to Hawaii.

Natrajans had sent 3 cars to pick all them up. Kapoors soon after a theatrical welcome began their voyage to the centre of the Bangalore. Most of the Kapoors were visiting the Bangalore for the first time and did not know the magnitude of the difference in road travel between Jaipur and Bangalore. People who have experienced journey to the old Airport in Bangalore would appreciate the following piece of writing. The three wagons started at around 7 pm in the evening en route for a plain 15 km distance. It took round about 2.5 hrs to cover that distance. Now by the time we were half way through after roughly 1.5 hrs; all Kapoors including Mr. Kapoor were so aggravated that they practically decided to walk down the remaining trip on which Mr. Natrajan clarified that even if they walk; the car and the stroller would reach at the same time which helped Mr. Kapoor and others to change their mind in a jiffy. After an hour of snail paced journey all of us finally made it to the wedding hall where all of us were given rooms to stay all the way through the wedding period.

The next morning was the wedding day which opened with the breakfast. Since I had an evil experience with the food last time; I took additional measures to alter the menu into an amalgamation of pakodas and Idlis. Not very surprisingly only 1 Idli was consumed in 10 Kapoors. I was having the breakfast with complete indulgence when I saw that all Kapoors were standing close to the hand wash zone and debating on something very grim. When I investigated then I learned that one of my cousins “Akbar” was even bigger menace then my father in food and he was just sickened by the food which was served.

What else he expected ?

The wedding began by getting me prepared in Dhoti and a wraparound for my upper body but due to my muscular body --->

I shillyshallied a bit and I was permitted to wear the vest.

The entire observance was just about mantras and shlokas. One after the other there was a bombardment of rice from different angles from the countless people who were witnessing the carnage of yet another couple. It’s customary to hurl a small amount of rice on the couple which is getting married after a specific word from the Priest/Scholar/Pundit as a blessing. It was only then I comprehended that a lot of people weren’t very cheerful with this wedding of south and north because no less than 3-4 times someone almost poked my eye out with some extreme shots of rice right into my eyes. It took me just those many times to recognize that the safe word is “Swaha”; so whenever the Pundit says “Swaha”; shut your eyes . People tried to hurt me again and I encountered the assault fearlessly.

2 of the 3 Kapoors of one family got along very well with Natrajans because of their talent to communicate in English; apparently not many people can do that; Akbar, Jodha Bai (Akbar’s wife) and Hamida Banu Begam (Akbar’s Mother). Throughout the wedding Akbar and Jodha Bai were the only 2 people who frequently had dialogues with almost all Natrajans otherwise the wedding felt just like a movie theatre where people watch the same show but don’t talk to each other.

The next ritual was the Kashi Yatra, Kashi yatra is the ceremonial where the groom pretends to leave for Kashi, a pilgrimage center to devote himself to God. He carries a walking stick and other meager essentials with him to imply that he is not interested in becoming a householder. The girl's father intervenes and requests him to accept his daughter as his life partner. He exhorts him to fulfill his responsibilities as a householder and thus follow what is written in the scriptures. The groom relents and returns to the pandal where he is received by the bride.

When I came to know about it; a impish plot began to cultivate in my head and I planned to make Natrajans run for their money but I guess Mr. Natrajan understood me too well and held my hand so tight that it turned into a red hand in few seconds but I just knew the instant where the pundit would ask me to go to the pilgrimage. The moment came; as soon as Pundit asked me to leave I shuddered which got me my hand on the loose from Mr. Natrajan’s clutch. As soon as I become conscious that I am free; I sprinted towards the pilgrimage, I just never looked back, I ran and ran till all the roaring and chaos faded away. I stopped and I looked around; the flora and fauna around me went stand still, everyone was looking at me because they had never seen a south Indian groom like this,

running loose like this before. I looked back; 2 of Deeps cousin were galloping towards me and a much acquainted black car of Natrajans pulled over next to me. I sat in the car next to Mr. Natrajan and asked him “Will you again send me to pilgrimage” and I giggled but I guess he almost had a heart attack and did not appreciate the mockery of the event. We came back and I encountered lots and lots of red and yellow faces but later everyone chuckled on what I gave them; I am sure that they have and will never get to witness something like this in their entire lifespan.

The wedding ceremony was completed, we shared the rings, I tied mangalsutra to the bride and we were finished, I mean we were married . People came and passed on good wishes to us and after some more continuing sacraments we were taken to an inside room for lunch along with all close family members of Kapoors and Natrajans. Since the food was not the same for both the families I predicted no complications but how can wedding survive without a toxic snag. One of the Natrajan was speaking to Deeps in Kannada while we were seated down; eavesdropping to which I was broken-hearted because I knew that my kin will not like it. Apparently the cook has misplaced the chapatis that were particularly brought for Kapoors and now they are left with just 8 chapatis and we were 11 counting me in addition. Seeing the sensitivity of the situation Hitler came up with a dazzling strategy. Hitler requested Kapoors that in their ritual this lunch must comprise only rice because anything made of wheat is just not auspicious for today. All Kapoors gave murky looks but what anyone can say against the rituals in India the plot worked and Natrajans just had a narrow escape from what could have been a gruesome incident. Kapoors somehow accomplished the meal and went for a stroll without any delay; understandably; to have actual lunch minus any rituals

The day was concluded and all the guests were gone, it was mounting darkness and soon a roller-coaster journey which lasted a day was finished. I and Deeps were sitting and chatting on the stairs of the community hall where we just got married for the first time. Hitler came and objected that we weren’t still married and hence we are not supposed to be meeting and nattering like this. I made a request Hitler just 2 minutes to have a conversation with my half wife which she approved with an obnoxious stare.

“Congratulations”, exhausted Deeps could not believe that the wedding was through

“Yes, same to you too, barrier 1 of 2 is over, get ready for part 2”, I winked at her

Hitler called Deeps and this time she had to go, I too got up and went to my room. All Kapoors were enthusiastically stuffing their belongings to catch an early morning flight back to Jaipur. I took a deep breath and began pulling my stuff together, after 20 minutes when I was done I just wanted to doze off to the bed. I recollected the entire day and there was a grin on my face, a smile of triumph. I shut my eyes and I went astray in the world of profound siesta.

Chapter 19: Archi the Bisleri Chick

 

"Let’s go”, I got ready and got out with Deeps on her street-hawk

I was being continually coached by her on the way about what to talk and what not to with Archi.

“She might ask you about our relation”, she said in a faint tone

“Oh I thought we were going for a party !!”, I beamed

“Shut the F%$# up and listen to me I am serious”, she sounded mad

The entire ride took about 15 minutes but it felt like a year because number of instructions given to me were more then the number of instructions present in a commercial airplane flying instruction manual. In short I had to present myself as the most well-brought-up, respectful, well-mannered, thoughtful, loving, charismatic, anything I missed ?? Oh yes, most prominently,  good English !!!

“What ??”

“Yes, she speaks only English”

“??”, I gave her a shitty expression.

“But my English is horrible, according to you I am from a village”, I raised an alarm

“Stop making a mockery of the situation and pay attention; be good because she does not like people speaking terrible English”

I was dumbstruck for a minute, I could not figure out if I was going for a casual meeting with one of her family member or for the GRE interview !!!

Let’s wait and watch,

We arrived at Bazaar Hangout (Does not exists any longer) near Jaynagar 7th block. Archi was already there, we exchanged Hi and made ourselves comfortable. No one spoke for quiet some time, I broke the 20 second long silence,

“So what would you like to order ?”, I posed the question to both the females

“What’s good here”, Archi scrolled down to the menu card

There was something about her aura, the way she sat, the way she spoke and the domination she had in her tone of voice was as if she owns the place.

Superb, I just need to be a little watchful

A guy emerged with a menu card and 3 glasses of water,

“We don’t want this water, Do you have Bisleri ?”, she asked the service boy

This event is no less than 7 year old and till that age we understood just one thing that the only water that’s available in any restaurant is the water served by the server, the regular water. But this was something new, bottled water aka mineral water, which was considered to be a symbol of luxury in those days. There was something unusual about this gal, she was way too much urbane. The Gobhi Manchurian which I never hesitated to eat anywhere in the Bangalore; she made me believe how harmful can it be because it’s not made of fresh ingredients and blah blah blah. She also stated that she does not even eat panipuri because she is not confident about the water they use but she wont mind if the water is made of bisleri !! We somehow managed to eat amid all this.

After snacks she wanted some time alone with me and she asked Deeps to go away for a moment,

“So whats up Anky, How are you”, she started the discussion

“I am good, thanks for asking”, I was being the best guy that has ever been born.

“So how well do you know Deeps ?”

“We are best friends”

“I heard that, so you are thinking of getting married ?”, she said while she opened her eyes wide

I was shaken a little by her lethal gaze but I spoke “Yes why not, I like her and she likes me what is the dilemma ?”

“There is an slight unimportant hitch and just because of that we are talking in English !!”

“Look I don’t see language as a massive trouble, we love each other and we can adjust with anything”

“True but what about your parents and her parents”

“We will talk to them when we both are 100% sure and the time is appropriate. But I promise you that I am not from that breed who will sway her to abscond”, I showed some confidence

I could not decipher the reaction but she looked impressed. She clarified few more things in English and I replied her in English with acceptable grammar and articulation. I know this because I got the feedback afterwards. The conversation went pretty well and Deeps was overwhelmed. That was a relief. But it did not matter who agrees and who does not; in her family or mine because people who we care most about should be in agreement and they were our parents,

“If they differ ?”, she asked dejectedly on the phone

“Then we won’t marry, simple”, I chuckled

“What simple ? As if we will never get married”, she was annoyed

“Look, I and you do not want to get married without the consent of our parents, so if they say no, that’s all right. We will try again and we will keep trying until they agree, it does not matter how long it will take”

That reassured her and our love story kicked off officially. We started meeting at least once in each weekend because the time spent in college wasn’t adequate and we hadn’t revealed our relationship to anyone. She did not want any gossip to spread in the college. We went for loads of movies and restaurant,

On a cool Sunday evening I was doing nothing and suddenly I wished to meet her but it wasn’t possible because she could not have come out of her house however, I had to see her, I called her up,

“Hi”

“Hi”, she giggled

“So what are you doing”, I asked

“Nothing watching television”

“Why is your mother not around ?”, I asked

“She is gone out. Hey !! How did you know that she is not in the house”, she asked curiously

“Because I can’t see her bike”, I said

“Where are you ??”, she almost screamed

“Just look outside the window”

Whenever I felt that I have to see her then there was always one thing I did, catch a bus to her place and called her from the telephone booth opposite to her house. I liked giving her shockers and she used to get shocked too, every single time.

I also devised “I Love you” miss calls, it was hopeless and mark of no-better-work. It begins with single miss call for letter “I” and then pause for about 10-15 sec and then back to back 4 miss calls to symbolize the word “LOVE”, silence for some more time and again back to back 3 miss calls for word “YOU”. I am not kidding but she always welcomed it and giggled while her parents cursed in every potential manner to the pervert who is causing these miss calls. The voyage of these miss/blank calls was very long because Hitler’s ultimate nightmare was becoming a reality and hence I could not have called to Deeps house and asked for her openly. I must call and identify the voice, if it’s not her then leave a blank call. One such day I called her up,

Tring Tring Tring

Someone picked up the phone ……… and no one spoke !!

I was even smarter, I also kept the game going,

I stood there and just did breathing

No one even spoke from other side, just breathing

[inhalation] from the other side

[Exhalation] from my side

It was as if we are talking wordlessly, both of us were trying too hard to distinguish the background noise and something which can give away the individual on the line but it was not easy because people on both sides were just too clever for each other.

[Exhalation] from the other side

[inhalation] from my side

This went on for a while and eventually she spoke, “Hello”

I smiled as if I won the breathing scuffle and I hung up;

it was Hitler

Chapter 3: The College

APS College is located in a rural area called Somanahalli. A place which is situated far far away from real Bangalore. It’s so distant that I think it takes the equal amount of time required to get to the moon (I guess moon is near).

One of the most irksome part was when day-scholars (Students travel back and forth every day from “Bangalore” to attend college) used to ask us,

“When are you coming to Bangalore?”
And I used go, “Shut the F$%& up!!!”

Over the period of time, 3 of us (‘Tarzan’, ‘Patti’ and me) became great friends (Because we were the only back benchers and only north Indians in the class). Our preliminary days were very entertaining because all around us changed a lot especially the lingo,

• # Letter ‘H’ became ‘Hatch’
• # ‘Circuit’ from ‘sir-kit’ became ‘sir-cute’ and sometime ‘sir-kitu’
• # Everyone spelled my name with an additional ‘hatch’, “Ankith”
• # Everyone had/have the same query whenever they spot you, “Kana Kaya?” (Have you eaten?), What did I look like? But that’s how its customary here!!
• # Any English word can be transformed into Kannada, such as Scooter-u, College-u, Driver-u, you name it and they have it.

Lecturers asked me my name and I said,

“Ankit”

Teacher, “Ankitaaaaaaaaaaa ?”

Me, “No, it’s Ankit”

And there used to be a dreadful intent look to me on lecturer’s face , always after the third line in the above conversation.

The ambiance and the crowd were completely unusual for us. In a very opening lecture a man introduced himself and spoke about the college, a brief synopsis. When he finished everyone in the classroom started with an applause!!!! WTF!! Are you kidding me???

**********************

A.P.S College was world’s last engineering college I guess because for first few days we did not see any womanly women. As I remember Bhutani used to say,

“There are 3 kinds of girls”

“First, Who are born gorgeous and don't need anything to appear more beautiful”

“Second, females because of whom beauty parlours are still in business”

“And thirdly, who allege that they are females”

So how distribution of them does take place,

“All top status big colleges have consumed first category of girls”

“Every B grade college has admitted all girls from next category”

“Every one from third category are gone into rest of the colleges”

“The leftover girls are in APS”

Disclaimer: Sorry but no offense, these statements were by only some puckish guys who came from a different human race. But girls whom I know from APS, you all are “The most stunning beauties” and I stand for it .

But one fine day, I think it was the second week of college, the weather was unusual, there was a calm zephyr around, the air was magical, a pleasant fragrance turned my head and I saw people pointing towards the same direction where she was, a radiant magnificence, a beauty for which we were waiting from ages. Long hair, fair skin, people lost senses when she smiled. Every single guy in the college was looking at her with their eyes popping out. She was no girl but a guardian angel who was gliding in the air, blessed every single male spirit in APS, for them she was the perfect meaning of “KILLLLEERRRRR beauty”, she was undoubtedly the best (Of what was left, no offense). I all of a sudden became the ruler of the planet when she entered into my class. People suddenly started becoming my friend, guys from out of he blue started hanging out with me ….. Everyone had one solitary mission,

 

‘Apsara’ (The white Beauty)’