The arranged murder?️

chapter 11

Too much, Aunty, really,’ I said. But Neelam anyway added three more

laddoos to my already crowded plate of snacks.

Technically, Saurabh and Prerna’s roka was supposed to be a small

affair. People were only meeting for tea. Of course, a single tea session in a

Punjabi household often has more calories than the daily recommended

calorie intake for a normal-sized adult. On my plate were chole bhature, pav

bhaji, hakka noodles, dahi bhalla, gulab jamun, samosa and now three

laddoos.

Saurabh's parents had arrived in the morning. They loved food too.

They fell in love with the Malhotras the moment they were served kaju katli

even before they entered the house. The well-rounded parents sat with their

well-rounded son as they awaited their well-rounded bahu. Okay, I’m being

a bit mean here, but at least well-rounded sounds better than obese or fat.

It was the first time I had gone to Prerna’s house, the impressive three-

storey bungalow in New Friends Colony. The ground floor had been

emptied out to make seating arrangements on the floor. Over sixty guests

filled the hall. Little Punjabi kids criss-crossed the living room, spilling cold

drinks along the way.

Prerna wore a green lehenga with elaborate gold embroidery on it.

Saurabh wore a cream-coloured sher-vani and turban. With his smooth

clean-shaven face, he looked like those overgrown kids in a children’s

traditional wear commercial. The roka ceremony started with a small prayer

conducted by a priest. After that, Saurabh’s parents gave Prerna a pair of

gold bangles as sagan, or an auspicious gift. Both sides exchanged insane

amounts of mithai, some in baskets so huge, you could carry an adult in it.

‘Ramesh ji, you have won our hearts with the khatirdaari and

hospitality,’ said Pyare Lal Mahesh-wari, Saurabh’s father.

Ramesh folded his hands. He stood in the adequately timid posture

expected from the girl’s father.

‘Now she is yours' he said.

‘Arrey, not yet, Ramesh ji. But let us fix a date fast. What do you say,

Saurabh beta?’ said Roshni, Saurabh’s mother.

Saurabh and Prerna looked at each other. Saurabh was ready to get

married in the next one hour, but Prema wanted a bit more time. Her startup

still needed attention. She said she wanted to enjoy planning her wedding as

well.‘Why not do both? Run the company and plan the wedding at the same

time?’ Saurabh said.

‘Let’s fix the engagement at least,’ Ramesh said.

Before Prerna could respond, a tall, fit man in his late thirties entered

the room carrying a guitar. He held the hand of an elderly lady.

‘Aditya chachu. Finally. Where were you?’ Prerna said, looking up at

her handsome six-foot uncle, who looked younger than his age.

‘Had to bring Maaji down. Anyway, I have a special song for you,’

Aditya said.

Prerna’s grandmother, silver-haired Nirmala Malhotra, or Maaji, slowly

walked across the room. She wore a white silk salwar kameez and two

heavy gold necklaces. She sat on a chair right behind the couple of the

moment. Prerna and Saurabh touched her feet.

‘Munda sona hai, sehat hai,’ Maaji said—the boy is good-looking and

healthy. For Punjabis, fat is sehat, or health.

‘Thank you, Maaji,’ said Saurabh, beaming.

‘Where’s Anjali?’ Prema said.

‘I told her to change. She wanted to come down in shirt and jeans. Is

this the way a girl dresses at a function like this?’ Maaji said.

At that moment, Anjali entered the room in a yellow kurti with gold

embroidery and a pair of black tights. She was still underdressed compared

to the rest of the guests. Saurabh saw me staring at Anjali and frowned.

Maaji was handed a plate with her share of thousand calories on it.

‘I will feed her,’ Bindu said, pulling up a chair next to her mother. She

had dressed in a red and gold saree, her hair obviously styled in a parlour, a

departure from her otherwise stiff curls. She had also given up her

spectacles for the evening.

As Maaji ate her second samosa, she began to cry.

She spoke loudly in Punjabi, addressing everyone.

‘If Ramesh’s daddy was here, he would be so happy, kinne khush honde

si' she said between sobs.

Ramesh, Bindu and Neelam nodded solemnly.

‘Ramesh’s daddy had seen such tough times. He never stayed around to

see any of this' Maaji said. She spread her hands, to indicate the expanse of

the living room and the array of gifts on the floor.

Maaji should have stopped her speech right here, while on a high note.

She didn’t.‘I was one year old when my parents had to move from Lahore to

Amritsar. They hid me in a basket of apples. Like this one.’

She pointed to one of the fruit baskets. She continued, 'I was only

eighteen when I married Ramesh’s daddy. He was just a simple scooter

mechanic.'

Every guest at the party had tuned in to Maaji.

‘Look at my Ramesh. When Ramesh’s daddy passed away, he raised

this entire family. He used to work in the garage. Borrowed money to open

a small scooter dealership.’

Ramesh reached behind Maaji and pressed her shoulder. She grabbed

his wrist.

‘Beta, God should give a child like you to everyone. And a bahu like

Neelam. She raised Aditya, Geetu and Bindu better than I could. Never

raised eyebrows like those evil TV serial bahus when Ramesh did things for

his family.’

Neelam seemed happily surprised at the unexpected praise from her

mother-in-law.

‘Scooter dealership to Maruti dealership to Pocha dealership. It’s no

joke.’

‘Not pocha, Maaji. Porsche cars. Por-shay' Ramesh said.

Maaji ignored her elder son and went on.

‘From an eighty-yard-plot house in Amritsar to this palace in Delhi. Mrs

Goel was telling me she checked on MagicBricks. A kothi like this would

cost thirty crores.’

‘Maaji, please' Ramesh whispered, hoping his mother would curb her

enthusiasm a little. She ignored him.

‘By God’s grace, my son has achieved so much. And today, such a

beautiful day. Thank you, Waheguru.’

All of Prema’s family members teared up a little. I think Saurabh did

too.

The guests clapped, not only out of genuine appreciation for Maaji’s

speech, but perhaps also to tell her to end it.

The evening continued with everyone taking turns to bless the couple

and stuffing their mouths with something sweet.

Finally, the mithai-feeding became too much even for Saurabh.

‘Enough, Bindu bua' Saurabh said, mouth full of besan laddoo.‘Nothing is enough today. You are our son from today' Bindu said. I

think Saurabh’s parents shifted a little in their seats at this appropriation.

Aditya strummed his guitar to get everyone’s attention.

‘Hello, everyone' Aditya said in his husky voice. ‘I am Adi, Prerna’s

chachu. I am the other brother. The one who didn’t do much for his family

like his amazing brother, Ramesh.’

Prerna, Anjali and Ajay broke into ‘awws’ to negate his comment.

Aditya smiled and flung back his curly hair as he took position to play his

guitar.

‘To my little niece' he said, ‘who makes us so proud.’

He sang a Hindi song, originally about brothers and sisters, but replaced

‘sister’ with ‘niece’ in the lyrics.

Phoolon ka taaron ka, sab ka kehna hai

Ek hazaron mein, meri bhatiji hai...

The rest of the evening involved alcohol, a local Punjabi DJ, more food

and even more food. Saurabh went mental on the dance floor. His frantic

moves probably caused his would-be in-laws to have second thoughts about

their damaad. I had to accompany him on the dance floor, of course. Along

with a dozen other Punjabi uncles and aunts, we did an intense bhangra.

Later, I saw Anjali leaning against the wall and went up to her.

‘You’re not dancing?’ I said.

‘I would, but my ankle is sprained.’

‘Oh. What happened?’

‘Come on, don’t fuss over me. I’m not used to it.’

‘No, seriously, what happened?’

‘Trekking trip. Twisted it while descending.'

‘You trek?’

‘I’m not just a boring desk-job journalist. I love nature. Trekking is my

passion.’

‘Cool. Where did you trek?’

‘Just came back from Manali. Later this year I might do the Everest

Base Camp.’

‘You will climb Everest?’ I said, eyes wide.

‘Just the base camp' Anjali said and laughed. ‘It’s where Everest

trekkers start their journey.’

‘It’s still impressive' I said.‘I’ve climbed since I was little. My stepdad used to take me, in his

better moods. I continued even in boarding school.’

‘Oh' I said. ‘Are your parents here?’

‘No, they couldn’t come for this from Seattle. They will come for the

wedding.’

Saurabh had told me Anjali’s mother, Geetu, had married a cab driver,

Jogi, in the US. She had moved there several decades ago. They split up,

and Geetu married Greg Davis, an American schoolteacher in Seattle.

‘Anyway, why all this boring talk? You go to the dance floor. Give your

friend company' Anjali said.

I smiled and walked back to the makeshift dance floor made of plastic

with bright multicoloured lights beneath it. The song Baby Doll started.

Saurabh moved his hips like Sunny Leone did in the original. Okay, stop

Golu, I wanted to tell him. They could see this and still back out.

‘Bhai, I am so happy' he said in the middle of the song. ‘Now I

understand what you meant when you told me about love. It really is an

amazing feeling.'

I shrugged and smiled.

‘What, bhai? You are not happy?’ Saurabh said, moving his hands as he

spoke to me.

‘I am happy for you.’

‘You should also find someone, fall in love and get married. It’s

beautiful.’

‘Never going to happen, Golu.’

‘Why? How long will you keep making me meet these meaningless

Tinder bhabhis?’

I laughed and looked at Anjali again.

‘Not her, bhai. Please promise me you will not search for hook-ups in

Prerna’s family.’

‘What?’ I said. ‘Of course not.’

‘I saw you talk to her.’

‘I called her to dance. She’s twisted her ankle. That’s all we spoke

about.’

‘You sure?’ Saurabh said, and began to move again to the Sunny Leone

song.

‘Yes. And that’s not the step. You have to move like a serpent. Let me

show you' I said.