room.
Rajji mama had arranged a two-man dholak band at the Hazrat Nizamuddin
station. I helped locate the thirty-seven II-tier AC berths reserved for my relatives
in the Rajdhani Express compartment. Two of my mother’s cousins had decided
to join at the last minute and we had to accommodate them as well. My mother
made up a wonderful story about my father’s viral fever that would be malaria.
Everyone knew the reality, and apart from the awkwardness of fibbing to
Ananya’s parents again, people were relieved, as my dad equaled to no fun.
‘You can’t talk half the things when your husband is here,’ as Shipra masi told
my mother.
I stood inside the bogie, matching everyone’s ticket to their berth. Rajji mama
dragged me out. ‘You have to dance a little, no? This is that baraat leaving,’ he
said.
At four in the afternoon, hundreds of bored passengers on the platform
watched the free entertainment provided by our family. The dholak men jogged
along the train and argued with mama over the payment. They couldn’t squeeze
much out of him as the train has picked up speed.
I came inside my compartment, which the ladies had turned into a sari shop.
The entire lower berths were filled with the dresses everyone planned to wear for
each of the functions.
‘This is beautiful,’ my seventy-year-old distant aunt said as she fondled a
magenta sari with real gold-work. Women never get too old for admiring saris.
My younger cousins had taken over the next compartment. The girls had their
make-up kits open. They discussed sharing the mascaras. I see why whole
families get excited about a wedding; there’s something in it for everyone.
I came outside to stand at the compartment door. The train whizzed past Agra,
Gwalior and Jhansi over the next few hours. I still had a day to go as the train
traversed through this huge country, cutting through states I had battled for the
last year. These states make up our nation. These states also divide our nation.
nora
(Nora)
#1