A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT

ARUNJI VERY RARELY came to the big house since his family’s patron had moved out of central Delhi, but when he heard that Dadi was seriously unwell he came at once. He was ushered into Dadi’s room by Buddhi Ayah, who wiped tears with the end of her soft white sari as she led the way for this momentous visit, because when the family astrologer came, it was surely time.

In Dadi’s room were Siddharth, Tota and Neel, sitting on the chairs that usually remained ceremonially empty. Arunji did salaam to the family, then went straight to Dadi, sat on the floor next to the bed and held her hand.

‘Mataji, I have come to take your blessings.’

Haven’t you already taken enough of these? Siddharth could hear his wife’s impoverished response in thought form.

‘Savitri will be here tomorrow, Ma.’ Siddharth took his mother’s other hand.

So much for the blessed granddaughter being married before your passing, Tota offered as her unspoken contribution to the conversation.

Hearing her thoughts, Siddharth was stung with guilt that he hadn’t told his own wife that their daughter was married.

‘And everything has come to pass,’ Arunji continued in his reassurance to Dadi that she could finally meet her ‘date with destiny’. ‘You can rest now that Savitri has her husband.’

Tota looked at Siddharth with questioning eyes, and then winked, as if she’d understood that this was how they had all agreed to play the game. This was how they must allow the old lady to leave her body, her family and a century she hadn’t particularly wanted to enter. ‘Everything has been settled,’ Tota piped up, in support of the collusion. ‘And this time Savitri has even agreed to the match.’

If ever there was a moment to let his wife know, it was now.

‘No, she has already married,’ Siddharth added with certitude, staring down his wife.

Siddharth saw Tota shrug and read her thoughts. If you’re prepared to take the deception this far, then who am I to disagree with a story told to your dying mother? So be it. We are doing our duty in telling her all of this.

Dadi who struggled against the heavy eyelids that had willed her soul to shut out the light these past few years. ‘I am so happy for her … and so happy that Neel made a good choice for his sister … I … I so … wanted to meet him …’

‘You will meet him, Mataji, you will,’ Arunji said, and squeezed Dadi’s hand lightly. ‘This is your wish, and I can promise you it will be so.’

Siddharth could hear his wife’s thoughts loud and clear now. Being the only person who had no clue that her daughter was married, Tota had begun wondering how on earth they were going to conjure up a groom to stand next to Savitri as her devoted consort tomorrow. For a second moment he heard her wonder about the dishonesty of putting on the charade but dismiss the thought immediately. Of course, it must be done. The poor woman has been told by the idiot astrologer that Savitri would have to be married before she can leave this world in peace, after all …

‘Mama, we will put the two of them in front of you and you can bless them both to have a long and happy married life,’ she added. Maybe we can persuade Mohan to come over. We could put some mehndi on Savitri’s hands and wedding bangles up to her elbows, and Dadi wouldn’t know the difference in her state.

‘It’s so good you sent her to Australia or she would never have found Nitin,’ Dadi continued, squeezing Arunji’s hand with the little strength she had.

As the name of their new son-in-law was announced, Tota stared at Siddharth, mouthing the name ‘Nitin’ and shrugging.

Again, the guilt of it.

Why, Tota was the only person in the room who didn’t know that her own daughter was married. What on earth had taken place in their lives for such concealment and duplicity to emerge between mother and daughter, husband and wife?

It was only later that Siddharth was able to sit down with Tota quietly and tell her the truth about what had happened to Savitri – or at least the truth as he had heard it, through the impoverished, dry, yeastless version of the story that had percolated through the interpretations of thought forms and memories across a crackling international mobile call.

There was a long pause.

‘You cannot be serious. You’re telling me that youall knew thisthing and youall thought that I might not want to know? You didn’t tell me about my own daughter’s marriage?’

Siddharth offered silence rather than reason or excuses, to allow his wife some space to contemplate exactly why this might be the case. To allow her to feel her part in the way things were.

‘You’re telling me that you were lying to me in front of your mother. You’re saying that everybody in this house knew that Savitri was married except for me – even the bloody astrologer?’

‘Of course the astrologer knew. Arunji was the first to know, probably. Even I found out by accident.’

And so the outpouring began – full, guttural, heaving howling, and Siddharth held her as she shuddered while clutching the edge of the bed. I have destroyed my family single-handedly. I have pushed every single one of them away. My own daughter … my own daughter … I couldn’t do a thing to help her.

‘Savitri would never have married anyone that we chose for her – and she probably would never have married an Indian boy because of the Manglik thing,’ Siddharth interrupted. ‘Arunji always said that Neel would have to choose Savitri’s husband.’

‘And what exactly do we know about this boy that Neel has so kindly chosen for our daughter?’

‘Very little,’ Siddharth confessed, ‘except that he’s a lovely boy. A scientist.’

‘Do you have a picture of the wedding?’ Tota needed some kind of proof to assuage the shock and disbelief.

‘I have nothing, except some … information from Mae – something about a wedding under the moon.’

‘Hai Ram.’ The mention of Mae sent every suspicion in Tota’s body into high alert. ‘That girl has gone and set up this mischief as revenge!’

‘Chup! Isn’t the marriage of your daughter something you have always wanted? Why curse it? She has a good boy – and happiness that neither of us was able to organise or buy or arrange for her. Think about it, darling … think about how hard it has been for you and I to do this thing for her. Arunji always said …’

‘It has nothing to do with Arunji. She found a boy because over there these things happen like this. People mate like animals …’

Siddharth pulled away from his wife. ‘Chup! Your daughter has just been blessed in marriage – something you have wanted for years – and you can talk only of mating! What is wrong with you, woman? What do you want? Do you want them to divorce? Already? Is this your plan? No, no, no – you must accept her happiness as something that has nothing to do with yours and let her be.’

All the worries of the world. Siddharth could feel the proprietorial nature of worries, and how it might be possible for someone to own absolutely all of them, probably in their shoulders, making them rise and knot with each additional concern. It was an urge that came from thinking that one could control the universe, and what a risky endeavour to take on – guaranteed to fail, given the enormousness and eternity of the task. How much easier it would have been to let the natural, more experienced cosmic mechanisms turn planets and galaxies into an effortless spiral rhythm and forget about trying to rule the rotating world and all those who cling to it.

‘She didn’t even tell us – she didn’t care about what we might think …’

‘She does care. She’s coming home tomorrow, and you’ll see her, and you’ll see that she’s happy. This much I know. But more than this … matlab … you will see that she is given a proper welcome and that her husband has the respect we should give anybody who has taken on the responsibility of our daughter’s happiness.’

Ensuring a proper welcome was a weighty request given the supposedly preposterous nature of Savitri’s insult, and Tota wasn’t certain that she should entertain it, lest her indignation and self-righteousness give way, but somewhere she knew, too, that her hands had been taken off the wheel, forcibly. She could offer her love and support or she could fester in disdain and disgust. But how could she decide which she would offer when she hadn’t even met the boy – or seen Savitri to know the full consequences of this decision? How could she know? How could any one of us know anything?