Chapter 19: Chapter 19

, 2017

My life starts and ends with you only.

And I have accepted you with all your flaws and blemishes.

Respect for you is infinity.

Rasgulla will be the name of our first baby.

I will be with you, through every thick and thin.

Always, that's my promise.

Grown is the sapling of our love, let's get married &,

End the trademark of being my boyfriend, my hubby.

The speculum in front of me was showcasing a girl I hadn't appreciated ever who was festooned in a fuchsia pink coloured Lehenga. She looked ethereal, divine as if a decorated piece of some vintage shop. Her lips were tinged red and dark natural hues was spread over her cheeks as if some heavenly glows splashed across the dusky sky of a spring eve. An intricately designed nose ring was attached to her parrot's beak-like nose giving her the final look of an Indian goddess. The dangly earrings were rhythmically swaying in utter exaltation and celebration as if they too were partying like the way her cousins and relatives were doing from several days. The soft dark tendrils abreast her temples were tickling her skin yet were efficacious enough to hold one's eyes on it. The necklace around her slender neck was gracefully embellished and the decorated dupatta too was tucked properly on her hair from where a beautiful Mangteeka was peeking as if playing hide-and-seek. Her Heena clad hands were gracefully adorned with the red and ivory Choodas ─ a reminder and a mark of the nuptial bond she would be sharing with her husband.

Yes, today was the wedding day where I'd be pronounced as the rightful, loving, caring wife of Mr Divyaant Jain ─ a man whom I loved, would love and will continue to love till...no, no, I rebuked myself before that word could've left the used-to part of my subconscious.

Millions of thoughts were trespassing my mind now, each demanding equal remembrance and attention from me as if they were my psychic, cranky babies. Picking one of my baby-like memoir from the registers of my organic microprocessor, I went back to the memory lane.

I was bouncing, tripping and hopping like a bullfrog under thundershower since the day our matrimony was fixed. Marriage ─ the purest sacrament of two souls which does not only unite two individuals but ties two families too.

Yet it wasn't a cakewalk. It was as backbreaking as cruising on a fire-path with another assortment of fireballs plummeting from the sky. My side of the family had no problem with our conjugality but Divyaant's tribe was under the tropic of Capricorn, in the Southern Hemisphere concerning my family's decision who was very much positioned in the Northern Hemisphere only.

The most bizarre moment was when Divyaant's grandma started throwing tantrums that they'd disown my Hippo if he'd go against them. But Divyaant didn't want any of the things to happen ─ neither my absenteeism in his life nor his abnegation from his folks. And as challenging and rough time motivates us the most, Divyaant did something I hadn't contemplated he could ever do.

"Okay, you don't want me to marry Pritika, right? I will not. But I have a condition too. I will not marry any other girl in my entire lifetime." My gallant Hippo had upbraided in outrage when his family had downright declined the idea of him marrying a non-Jain girl.

And there his proletariat had melted like an iceberg, just at the skin of the teeth of that moment before my hero could've ravaged towards his room to destroy everything inside his abode which I still hadn't viewed.

"Beta, what sorcery had that girl put inside you that you're flouting us?" his granny had called out to him in a furore and coercing tone which every Indian parent takes pride of.

"Sorcery? If loving someone is black magic, then let me tell you Dadi Ma, the Krishna you so divinely idolise was the embodiment of Sorcery. Along with Shiva and Parvati and many other deities which you worship. And I am not defying anyone of you, am I? I said I won't be marrying Pritika but then I won't marry any other girl too. What's so wrong.." a cheek paralysing slap was offered on the same cheek of Divyaant where I had stamped my palm a few days back and it was done by none other than his father.

"Is this the way to talk to your grandmother? In that girl's wizardry, you've forgotten how to talk with an elder?" his father had snarled like a lion but my tiger too wasn't less, as he discoursed in a disgruntled voice, "I didn't talk in a bad manner, Dad. You're probably slapping me because I'm not accepting your age-old orthodox rules. It's my final decision, Dad. You either kill me or burn me alive, I'll stick to it. I have loved someone, I haven't sinned". And like a wind, he had flown towards his room followed by his crying mother, distressed brother and mourning sister-in-law who too were in his favour for our alliance.

But as people speak of their experience that parents couldn't hold on their anger and grudge against their kids for long, Divyaant's father along with his grandparents finally agreed for our marriage. And that day was the D-day where we had danced maniacally on the Video call on the very famous Punjabi party song, "Oh ho ho ho ho" while chorusing it in stentorian voices. Thank God our rooms had a dynamic door which was enough sound-resilient to not let our families know that we precariously had turned to a crackheaded couple.

Our families had congregated in my house and belatedly they had settled for our union, amalgamating both our faiths and rituals in such a way that even we could bring out many prevalent customs that were common to both of our religions but named diversely.

Most of the religions teach us the same thing but the words are different just like how Raja Ram Mohan Ray had once quoted, "Cows can be white, brown, black but they all give the same white, pure milk. Similarly different religious preachers may sound different but the real meaning and lesson from them are always the same."

Roka or Khol Barana or Tilak ─ the ceremony where our conjugality was officially declared with devout Tilak application on Divyaant's forehead by my family along with some auspicious exchange of dry fruits, gifts and my Khol Barana was performed by his family who presented me with gifts, clothes and lots of blessings. And together with all this, we did the rightful rites of our Roka.

Lagna Lekhan ─ the Jain tradition where we all assembled at my house and the date of the wedding was decided after a Puja being conducted afore under the guidance of Divyaant's mother who was the most excited person for this interfaith marriage. Their priest had decided a date for the marriage in Jain customs and then my family had decided a date for the marriage in Sikh customs which was a day before the Jain one.

Lagna Patrika Vachan ─ the Jain tradition where we sent a formal letter of the testimony of our union to Divyaant's family which they read in front of their family after a pious Pooja held at their house.

Kurmai & Sagai ─ the official engagement ceremony which was held at Divyaant's residence with the holy Mantras and hymns of Gurbani. Our ceremony had started with Tilak again, and then the rings were exchanged and I was flushing so furiously that day. The apple of Kashmir was even feeling demure the way I was blushing. Then my family had offered a Kara and Kripal to Divyaant ─ a very eminent ornament of our faith. And who could forget the number of sweets we both were fed as if they wanted to make us file a petition for record-making in the Guinness book of world record.

Akhand Paath & Pooja ─ the ceremony where both our families had held prayer separately according to our faiths. Mine was held at the Gurudwara Sahib and Divyaant's was held in their temple.

Shagana ─ a Sikh ritual where we sent a lot of gifts for Divyaant's family.

Chunni Chadhana ─ a Sikh ritual in which I was bestowed with two beautiful wedding apparels from Divyaant's side of the family including all the ornaments, accessories that I'd be wearing for my marriage days. Also, a marron chunni was overlaid on my head by Divyaant's mother as a symbol that she had accepted me fully and finally.

Vatnaa and Bana Batai ─ Two different names for the same proceeding, yes, the Haldi ceremony where we both were greased in the yellow, healing paste of Multani Mitti and Haldi from head to toe at our respective houses.

Mehendi ─ coincidentally, its the same name for both the faiths where my hands and legs were splendidly adorned with Heena and Divyaant's hands too were dabbed with a little of Mehendi for which he was very reluctant but after my admonishing lecture to him over the call, he had complied.

Chooda and Kaleerein ─ a Sikh ceremony where my maternal uncle and aunt made me wear the alluring red and ivory bangles across my Heena clad hands which were earlier drowned and purified in the milk. Later on, the Kaleerein ─ the golden dangling dingos were affixed to my Choodas and finally, all the premarital rituals were completed.

I smiled giddily recollecting all those celibate memories which I won't be anymore from today onwards. As today was my first marriage day.

The marriage in the Sikh Style inside the Gurudwara of our hometown.

Anand Karaj in Amritsar!

The second marriage would be tomorrow in the Jain style inside the very renowned The Leela Palace at New Delhi.

And reception?

It'd happen after a month as two ceremonies would be very tumultuous for the relatives and friends to attend, so we had decided to go with this option.

I sighed gaily and glanced at the mirror again as suddenly I felt attracted to my own panorama, I giggled maniacally and checked out myself. I was in for a heart-throbbing reaction from Divyaant, he'd inevitably take in a huge breath when he'd see me as I likewise wasn't recognising my own profile.

All the mandatory sessions were done ─ crying session with my mother and Simran Pabhi along with a few of my close relatives, teasing and bickering session with my brothers and sisters and who could miss the 'Photography' session in any Indian wedding.

"Preet, the time has come now, let's go," Simran Pabhi appeared out of the blue followed by a lot of ladies many of whom I was scanning for the first time and they ushered me inside the car which was mirroring my features as it was also exquisitely ornamented with many kinds of perennials across it.

∘◦❁◦∘

"Hey, who are you? Where's my Preet?" the instant we settled on the carpet of our Gurudwara Sahib for the proceedings of our marriage, a man on my right side dared to articulate and a paramount glare was shot at him through my eyes. He couldn't leave a chance unturned to aggravate me even on our marriage day. The effrontery of this man, my nose smothered transparent smoke. Before I could've said a word of "pleasure" to him, he discoursed again, "You're seriously looking so prepossessing, Preet, just like the juicy pink liquid filled inside a chewing gum in this Pink Lehenga".

I didn't know whether I should thank or spank him. His compliments were always the constant reminder of those boring lectures of my college life where I used to be too confused to do this thing or other.

"Thanks," I chanted in a slow voice, not trying to grab the attention of all the aunties and uncles who were busy in monitoring us like a group of CCTVs which had just retired and gave this organisation of oldies its basic job of scrutinising and keeping an eye on people; along with the cameraman and photographers who were capturing us in their lenses from many days with their constant reminder to smile, to laugh, to this, to that, I breathed out and calmed down.

I still hadn't seen my husband as when I came he was seated in the very front row of the Gurudwara Sahib. But he surely was a cunning man as he had already checked me out. The antagonism heightened more at the fact that I hadn't seen him yet and as if Babaji heard my plight, the Sehra from his face was put off and I belatedly glanced at the face of my Hippo.

Blending the styles of two faiths, he was wearing a Fuschia pink velvety silk turban on his crown which was beautified with an ornately designed brooch, giving him an extraordinary royal look. My eyes plummeted down and I glanced at the ivory coloured, golden flowers imprinted Sherwani he was covering today on his modestly muscular trunk which was enhanced more with the fuchsia pink velvet Dupatta he was carrying on his right shoulder. And then my eyes landed on the pearl-beaded green piece of the pendant he had adorned today around his neck. So much to impress everyone, I mused naughtily and noticed the sheathed sword whose cover was so impressively decorated with intricate designs.

"Done checking me out? Or, should I ask the photographer to give you a hardcopy of my beauty?" I had thought to compliment him but scratch that, crush that or do whatever with that. This hippo could graze in the Kaziranga National park for all I care. I kept mum and concentrated on the spiritual Ardaas our Granthi was reciting in his soothing voice. I joined my hands and closed my eyes automatically as these were the things I was accustomed to since my childhood for which I didn't need a neural signal from my nervous system. The singing of the sacred Shabad too commenced just after this where the theological phrases from the pages of our Guru Granth Sahib were intoned.

"Jo bole so nihaal, Sat Sri Akaal," shouting this cry of enthusiasm and loyalty in utter excitement and devotion, our Amritdhaari Granthi subsequently started the proceedings with the pure and divine hymns for our journey from lovers to an espoused couple. After the conjuration of the hymns, we genuflected in front of our consecrated book and took blessings from our Waaheguru for the happiness and prosperity of our upcoming married life.

When we got up from our kneeling position, Daddy came and placed a saffron dupatta on Divyaant's shoulder whose another end was handed to me, holding which we initiated for the Laavan Pheras, where Divyaant was moving ahead of me.

Laavan Pheras holds an important role in a Sikh wedding. The word 'laavan' is a spiritual term used for the union of 'Atma' or Bride with the 'Parmatma' or Groom.

And this Pheras broke me up as I knew this was the end of my bachelor life. I was now married to Divyaant, both physically and soulfully, these hymns and verses were the testimony of it. More and more three-dimensional drops of tears started plopping down when I glanced at my people, my family whom I was going to leave and start a new life with a man I loved, with his family who was still very new to me. How would I survive there in a new environment, I cried more and lowered my eyes as I knew how distressed my family would become if they see any bit of mine tears.

After four circumambulations around the eternal Guru Granth Sahib Ji, we halted and stood in front of it with our hands joined against our chests and pure devotion in our glossy eyes. We had understood each of the meanings of the four stanzas of the vows that our Granthi had bequeathed to us.

The first Laavan tells the bride and the groom to stay on the path of dharma. The real happiness is in finding the truth and following what the real Guru says. Meditate god's name and know your true identity.

The second Laavan tells the couple to put aside the ego and other materialistic things and search for the true guru.

The third Laavan tells us the representation of true love for god.

The fourth Laavan explains that the couple has found the peace and equilibrium of their mind because they have reached the god with great ease.

And with that, we were lawfully wedded by the blessings of our Guru, our holy book and our people.

My tears were descending again, I was now more of my husband's wife than my father's daughter ─ I suddenly felt both happy as well as blue.

I didn't know what happened after that as I was in the mayhem of my own conjuring world of my new life where I was visualising the scenes of some of the serials where mothers-in-law were the cruellest creatures of the world. Before I could've conceived more about this, I was brought back to reality by a certain someone's voice when I realised people were busy in dancing and partying on the dance floor and some were busy in gobbling down the food near the food counters. I could see them being on a platform much higher than them along with my husband who was seated beside me.

"So, wifey, want to have some food or some dance?" Divyaant asked abreast me and I rolled my eyes. Here, my heart was doing hip-hop and my breadbasket sulking in hibernation and he wanted me to choose between the two of things I certainly didn't want now. "None of the above, I want to sleep," I was not interested in all these things on my own marriage day. I was having the feeling to cry like never before in a corner. How could I live without my family, how much would I miss them and unknowingly the dam of my tears broke and I started crying taking Divyaant by surprise.

"Hey, hey, Preet, baby," he held me immediately and took me in his arms and as if my heart cross-checked and messaged my eyes to drip down its waters, I started bawling my eyes out and hiccupping a lot in his arms, how much I'd miss my lovely family. Dadu, Biji, Papa, Mumma, Veer Ji, Pabhi, Noor, I wept dishearteningly.

"Preet, you can meet them anytime you want. Why do you worry, baby? We all are in Chandigarh, you can visit them anytime. Why are you taking it negatively? Think positively. You're not leaving your family rather you've got one more family to love you, to care for you. Don't cry, ssh," his warm embrace and comforting words did affect me and I promptly sobered up and moved out of his arms to glance at him. "Promise, you won't call me chewing gum in front of your family?" I brought out my pinky finger for a pinky promise when he chuckled and moved his head backwards in a burst of chortling laughter. I kept gazing at him when he returned to his normalcy and promised me, staring sincerely in my eyes.

Before I could've swum inside his ocean-like orbs, we heard a click sound and looked at the source and found both our families who were busy in giving us those You-both-are-so-adorable-together looks.

Warmness wandered through our cheeks and we crimsoned like the red tomatoes which I could see on the Salad counter even from here.

Our families came on the scaffold and we clicked our Big family's portraiture.

A picture-perfect love story ultimately won with the blessings of everyone.

∘◦❁◦∘

"Hey, why have you put your legs on the dashboard?" Divyaant screeched alongside me and I swivelled my eyes for the tenth time this day. "Because they're paining," I bemoaned and shut my eyes.

We were contemporarily in his highness' car and advancing towards Delhi via NH 44. Everyone had preferred a flight from Amritsar to Delhi, but his highness wanted to expend more money, time and stress to travel in his car. So, out of all the two-hundred-and-fifty people, we two were the only odds who were reaching from the car.

And my legs were grieving along with my back because of his highness obstinacy. If he loved his car so much he should've driven it alone, what was the need to drag me too in this painful long drive.

"Pritika put it down. They'll get scratches from the pointed heels of your Burj-khalifa heightened sandals," I so wanted to smack him severely with those very sandals but it'd be completely inappropriate that a beautiful lady murdered her husband in cold blood on the same day they had tied the knot.

"Yeah, yeah. But I think you've scratched and crushed your mind somewhere, what was the need to come in the car when everyone was going for a flight? We had booked a flight for everyone. We too could've adjusted somewhere? But, no! You want to...Why did you stop the car?" I stopped abruptly at the deceleration of our engine & scrutinised the area where he had halted our car. I could see almost black trees on both the sides which looked quite ghostly. "Are you planning to offer me to some ghos..." I was occupied in peeping around the shady area with my shaky and sauntering perceptions when out of the blue Divyaant pulled me from my seat and made me sit on his lap and I kept staring at him like I just experienced an unearthly thing with my mouth open and my eyes ballooned.

How much time did it take?

Five seconds!

How was the experience?

Terrific!

"You speak so much, let me just shut you for a moment," whispering in a seducing tone, he grabbed the side of my face with one hand and the other held my waist. The next thing I knew, he had slammed his lips on mine and nearly whacked all wind from my lungs. I hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of my lips and, at my grant of access, delved inside my mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of Shahi Paneer being exchanged in the intermingling of our billowing breaths. My arms reached up and tangled around his thick, strong neck. In an instant I had pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against my own, before I drew back into his lips. I could nearly feel the slight burn of the spicy paneer as it rolled off my tongue and seeped down my throat with every push of his tongue against mine.

"No more virgin tongues," he rested for a second and caressed me again with his tongue against my lips, taking me and my duodena to the roller-coaster ride of utter pleasure and ecstasy. I never knew kissing could be this pleasurable till he kissed me like never before. "Div..." he shushed me, "Ssshh...no more words. Let me devour my wife," wait, what kind of voice he was using now? I hadn't heard it ever. What the heck!

Was he some vampire or what? How his voice changed so drastically, I pushed him away and looked at him with my frightful orbs. "Preet," he almost yelled and I cowered more towards the passenger seat but he held me close on his lap. "Divyaant, we'll be late and I'm sleepy," I vocalised and kept my head down as I knew he'd study the lies through my eyes.

And almost in the same turbojet speed with which he had pulled me on his lap, he pushed me back on the passenger seat and I started feeling hollow and the situation turned more contrite with my sore lips and hip-hopping heart and who could forget the Butterfly garden inside my paunch. I was a withering mess with just a few of his kisses, how would I handle him when he'd do those things to me for which I had waxed each part of my body, I cringed inwardly and glanced outside the car.

Divyaant was now my husband, no more my boyfriend, that spirit was giving me a lot of things to worry about.

I groaned and slammed my eyes shut but not before overhearing some broken words from Divyaant, "Party pooper".