Wedding Blues

Dear Diary,

Something so amazing happened the other day that I’m just dying to tell it to you. That day, these two people… you know Nisha and Rohan, who are about to get married in a few weeks’ time? Yeah, they were bickering so much, it got to my nerves. And can you guess what they were fighting about? The theme of the wedding for God’s sake! Nisha, who’s been recently back from a tour to Dubai wants an Arabic-theme for the wedding, complete with belly dancers and all, and Rohan’s like, no way, we’re having a Rajasthani-theme wedding. All tie and dye stuff, nice hanging lanterns and lamp shades with mirror-work and stuff. And so it went on the whole damn day. Till I had to actually yell at them to give me some peace.

To make things worse, while on my way back home, I just happened to get on the most crammed bus on that route. Oh, the sweat and smell and stale cigarette stench! Add on top of that this shabbily dressed girl who was standing next to where I was sitting, leaning all her weight on my shoulders. I gave her “that” look of mine twice, but she didn’t even bulge! Fuming, I turned to look at her the third time, only to notice in disgust this time that a guy had his arms around her neck so tight I thought she would choke. Heights of indecency, I muttered, but I doubt it even reached their ears. I forced myself to look the other way, but I was so furious I wanted to do something, say something.

And then I felt it. The first drop on my arm while I held on to the seat in front of me for support. At first I couldn’t understand what it was, until the drops kept pouring and making my arm wet. When I looked up, I saw the girl weeping. Ugly tears ran down her cheeks straight onto my arms, the girl oblivious, while the guy seemed to be consoling her. Another tiff, I thought and wondered if it was something drifting in the air that day. I seem to have been surrounded by sulky lovers.

But then I overheard their conversation. Don’t go all moral on me, okay? It wasn’t like I intended to. I just happened to hear parts of it. And well, parts of it I didn’t understand so obviously I had to listen harder. It seemed he was trying to convince her that she hadn’t done anything wrong. That everything will be alright. My mind went into a frenzy imagining what could it be that she had done, and inspite of not knowing what it was, the feminist in me wanted to blame only the guy. The girl looked so pathetic, I tell you. Then the guy took out his phone and I heard exactly this,

“Didi, please don’t worry. She’s with me. And we are sorry for what we did but I had to. (a pause) Yes, yes, Ma must be furious. I know, I know… (pause again) But what’s done cannot be undone, right Didi? Now we just need your blessings. (a long pause, followed by a long sigh) But you will explain it to Ma, won’t you Didi? My family’s waiting for her with open arms. My Ma is so happy. She will be happy. I will keep her happy Didi…..”

And so it continued. By then I had heard enough to understand that I should leave them be. Imagine, those dimwits Nisha and Rohan were fighting over the theme of their wedding, and here I was witnessing the beginning of a family, a new life, even as these lovers were eloping in a crammed public bus. Aah, life, and its many flavors. Wonder if I’ll ever be able to get the hang of it. Food for thought, isn’t it?

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