She was a nice girl. The more I got to know her, the more I thought she had a very pure heart. But she was a typical ‘girl’ girl. The sort who will not step out if they had a bad hair day, who would admire themselves in a mirror wherever they saw one, who would take hours to get ready for a ten minute coffee. And, she was 25.
We had gotten close over the last four months and were now practically boyfriend and girlfriend and practically lived together. Half of her things were already at my apartment and it was only a matter of time before the other half also shifted. Most of the times, I enjoyed her company as she had the energy of youth with her, but at other times, I just wanted to be left alone.
Left alone to sleep, to think, to do nothing. And that is what she never understood. We reached home and climbed the stairs to my apartment. She already had a key and opened the door. She had promised to make me an Indian breakfast today and I was kind of looking forward to it but as soon as she entered she said “Honey, I have just manicured my hands yesterday and do not want to spoil my nails.”
She showed me her nails. They did look pretty and should not have been used to make parathas. “Could you just make bread and eggs and we can have the aaloo parathas next week.” She fluttered her eyes as she spoke. No one could say no to the fluttering eyes.
I just wondered for how long.
I went to the kitchen, cracked open the eggs and made the omelette.
I was a pretty decent cook. Living alone teaches you that. The rest of the day passed in a similar tone. There was lots of eye fluttering and lots of waiting. In the car, in the saree shops, in the jewellery shops, in the lehenga shops, in the shoe shops, and even in the shops which sold jeans which had nothing to do with the marriage. And there were no aaloo parathas.
She liked Italian food so we had lunch at a pizzeria and she felt that both of us had too much for lunch and were gaining weight which was not good before our marriage, so we had a salad at Subway for dinner. I hated Italian and I hated subway and I hated salad more than both of them put together.
And it was not that I even loved her. But it was that she was too damn beautiful. I again wondered in how much time would I get immune to her beauty. One thing was for sure, it was not happening today.
We reached back home at around 11 pm and she decided to stay on at my place because if she went home, she would get into a fight with her roommate and that would upset her. But even when she stayed over, nothing much happened.
We were getting married in 4 months and she said that I should wait as it was just four months. So instead of doing what a young couple alone in a room should do, she made me watch movies. I seriously did not have the energy to watch movies, and that too romantic bad movies, and that too in English.
Plus, there were no aaloo parathas. I felt hungry. A Subway salad did nothing to me. So we saw a movie and slept around 2. ‘The Notebook’ I think it was called. A senti movie about two lovers.
Honestly, I actually kind of liked it and was happy that atleast our choices weren’t that different. But at the end of the movie she declared that it was the worst she had ever seen. I again, just nodded in agreement. We finally got into bed to sleep. No action, just sleep. The good thing was that the gym was closed on a Sunday and I could sleep till 9.
This was the first time we had slept on the same bed. Nothing had happened but it was atleast a step in the right direction.
Even though it was a Sunday and I had the liberty to sleep till nine, for some good reason, I gotup at 7 again. No alarm, just gotup. I hated early mornings. I looked around and I realised that Kriti was also there. I looked at her, she looked like the best thing that had ever happened to my bed, or even the best thing that had ever happened to me.
She had changed into cute little yellow polka dotted pyjamas with a matching yellow polka dotted tshirt. Her hair were open and were all over her face. Her lips were apple red and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
Just then her eyes opened. Beautiful black big eyes. And the best part was that I could see the love in them. The love I had not seen in any girl’s eyes for me for a very long time. I thanked the matrimonial site once more and I was sure that I was doing the right thing by marrying her.
“Darling, will you like your morning breakfast on bed?” I said that, not she.
She smiled. A lazy sleepy pretty smile, and nodded. I gotup to make the eggs with juice and bread. I actually had a smile on my face while cracking open the egg.
The rest of the day was similar to the last one. She was still as beautiful and there was as much waiting with the Italian food for lunch and salad for dinner. She decided to goto her apartment for the night as her office cab would pick her from there. I dropped her off and got back after a long weekend with not much productivity for me, ready for another five days at work.
There are some things that do not change no matter at what level you are at work. You still have someone to report to, you still have deadlines which cannot be met, you still feel that the year end increments are not high enough, you still feel that you and not your colleague deserve the promotion, you still feel that some other job would pay you much more for what you are doing, you still have a bunch of people who start off as office colleagues and then become friends, you still have a bunch of people who start as friends and then become colleagues, and you still have the long cigarette breaks where you vent out all the frustration, even if you don’t really smoke.
My office was no different. I no longer worked as an engineer. In fact, I now worked in the marketing and distribution channel for one of the big FMCG companies which used to sell all kinds of things. I was responsible for one particular brand. My work, like most other jobs, was monotonous for the most part wherein there is a set system and you just have to fit in. But there were chances when you got to show your creative ability and that was the part which kept me, and millions of other people like me going. Plus, the money was good, and money was needed to pay the bills, and with the impending marriage, it was also needed to pay for the honeymoon, the new furniture, the new wardrobe, the new house etc.
I was pretty satisfied with my job. I had been in this job for almost 3 years now, right after finishing MBA. There were some office flirtations and some sort of flings in the beginning when everyone is new to work and do not really know what to do. But that had now settled and I fit into the office like old furniture. I used to hit the gym after office hours, or at times in the morning, for my marriage and then used to go back home, cook some light food, watch some television, chat on the phone with Kriti for some time and then goto sleep. A usual boring routine followed by every office goer who has a fiancé or a girlfriend. For the (un)lucky few who don’t, the talking on the phone part is replaced by watching more television or drinking beer. But at the end it’s all the same. You get used to it and it stops making a difference.
In my case the ‘chat for sometime on the phone’ had recently started becoming ‘chat for a hell lot of time’ on the phone. Kriti had so much to tell about office. Either that her office was too happening or that she just liked talking too much. She would tell me everything that happened in her day. She would reach office late every day- she needed some extra time to get ready, and then she would try and confuse her manager and make him believe that she was indeed on time. She said he would agree but I knew he had a similar problem like me, he could not say anything to those fluttering eyelashes. She would then login to her computer and check the first mails of the day. She would then have breakfast with coffee. She ensured that I ate a healthy breakfast but she herself would gorge on the oiliest and fattiest food possible. She would then gossip around for half an hour with her colleagues and as all of them were that age, their favourite topic used to be marriage. After that gossip session, she used to call me to fill me in with what all who all had bought and what all we needed to shop over the week. She would then go and actually work for some time and have more gossip sessions etc.
I would generally lose interes
t in what she was saying after around 15 minutes, and she did not even expect me to respond. There were no questions in between, all I had to do was show some surprise at times, pity at other times, and happiness at some other. I used to do this while watching reruns of ‘Friends’ and after around 45 minutes (it had started with 5 minutes) she would call it a day and
goto sleep. She needed atleast 8 hours of sleep to keep her skin glowing. I really did not mind that. I needed atleast eight hours of sleep to keep my head going.
So this was what life had become now. Monotonous, dull, a little boring, with Kriti providing a brief spark at times, and adding to the monotony at others. It was not that I was being singled out for such a life. All people my age, who were married or were about to be married, or were even thinking of marriage, were in a similar situation. Love marriage or arranged, it really did not matter. Slowly other people around you started vanishing and your spouse became your only companion. I did not know whether it was good or bad but this is what was happening and I was not doing anything to stop it, not that I wanted to. Not that I could.
The marriage functions were to start in the next few weeks. The engagement was the first to come and as the day came nearer, the excitement in Kriti was palpable. There was no such feeling from my side, but I guess she made up for both of us. We were to be engaged in a banquet hall of a decent hotel in Delhi and around a week before the actual date, my parents came to Delhi for all the arrangements. I also took a week off from work. In that way work was good, there was no issue around holidays. Kriti took two off. She would take around a month off for our wedding and the honeymoon which she had been planning since the time we had started talking. She had apparently picked some country in Europe which I could not even spot on a map. I was okay with it. Not that I had a choice.
At times I wondered that was I even ready to be married, and at times I wondered whether I was even a part of the whole marriage, because honestly it did not seem so- I had absolutely no say.
I asked Hari the same question over drinks one day, when we were both pretty high. He looked me straight in the eye and said “Even I am not yet ready for marriage. And I even have a kid. I don’t think even he is ready for marriage. I mean, I don’t think I would be ready for marriage even when he gets married. You get what I mean right? Men......”
He then stood up to address everyone in the bar, not that anyone was listening, not that anyone really cared about two middle aged drinking men.
“Men are never ready to be married. That is the way we have been made. We are only ready to drink.” He said this and finished his drink in one go. Or atleast he tried to finish it in one go.
He took a couple of sips and then quietly sat down and said in my ear. “I had promised my wife I will not be drunk and come home. She says it leaves a bad impression on the kid. I said that the kid cannot differentiate between the toilet and my lap yet. He really would not mind a drunk daddy. And then, she said that it leaves a bad impression on the kid. But this time” he made a hand gesture and spread out his arms as wide as he could. “This time, she said it in a loud voice.”
His voice tone also became loud while he was saying this. And then he spoke like a little mouse in a loud whispering tone “And I had to listen. But you bloody dog made me drink so much. I am going to complain about you to her.”
He said this, and did finish the rest of the contents in one long swish. I missed the old Hari. The Hari who would puke every time he would get drunk. I missed the old Hari, not the puking, but I looked at him and could see myself very well playing the same part. I guess we were not 25 anymore. We had to grow up. He had grown, it was now my turn. And I guess I was ready to be married. I could lead my life the way my wife wanted. What the hell, I was already doing that with the gym and the weekend shopping and the Italian food and Subway dinners. Plus, when I was married I would get to sleep with her as well. Didn’t sound that bad. In fact, it was better than what was happening right now.
Just then Hari got up and rushed to the toilet to puke. He had not changed, he was still the same old Hari. He had managed well and so would I.
Hari came back. He had done what he gone to do and had splashed water all over his face to look a little alive. “Do I look drunk?” He was supposed to ask me this question but he went to the next table and asked.
There was a couple sitting there. “Wait, when I had gone to the loo, you were sitting alone. And now, you are with a girl. And wait, this girl” he pointed at the girl not with his finger but with his whole hand “This girl does not look like Kriti. Not bad man, you found another girl. Good for you. Don’t worry, I will not tell Kriti.”
He was laughing and patting the back of the guy who was sitting on the other table. The guy on the table was perplexed. But more was the girl sitting with him. She shouted at the guy “Who the hell is Kriti.” Hari spoke up. “Didn’t he tell you. They are getting engaged next week and married in four months. The whole world knows about it. Kriti has made sure everyone knows about it. How come don’t you know?”
He signalled to the waiter and asked “You know right this guy is getting married to Kriti?” The guy didn’t know what to say. The girl started blabbering and shouting and cursing when I had to intervene. “Sorry sir, ma’am. This is my friend and I apologise for what he has done. Actually, we are sitting on the table next to you and he is a little high so sir, he mistook you to be me and I am getting married to Kriti so ma’am there is no need to worry for you.”
I said that and we left it to the couple to sort out their discussion. Hari sat in front of me and gave a smile. I spoke. “You bastard. You knew it was someone else. You played them on just like we used to.”
“Yes you bloody asshead. But unlike earlier times, where you used to join me in the fun and put the poor guy in more trouble, this time you actually saved him.”
“I thought you really made a mistake this time. You are really drunk.”
“Dude, what do you think? I want my son to see a drunk daddy when I get home? I am a little drunk but I now know how to control myself so that I can behave myself in front of the little dude. I love him man. And I tell you a little secret.” Hari came really close to me “I love him more than I love you.”
That last secret really meant something. The two of us had been inseparable since the time college had started and what we shared was much much more than mere friendship. I looked at Hari and noticed a change. A change for the better. I knew he was drunk and would never be able to get sober before he got home, but I knew he really wanted to.
And that mattered.
And then I was really ready. I was ready to take the path Hari had taken and had walked on pretty well so far.
The next few weeks passed in a breeze and the day was finally here. It was the day I was to be engaged. An engagement is usually not that big a function with only close friends and families invited. My engagement was no different. I was wearing a formal three piece suit and my bride to be was wearing a red lehenga. Red really did go well with her, it goes well with fair skin and she was as fair as they get. She was looking out of the world beautiful.
All my uncles and aunties from my town and some of my friends from college and work were there and it felt pretty good standing on an elevated stage with a beautiful woman next to me. It was a sense of achievement of sorts. Some of them might have a better job than me, might be earning more than me, but I had the prettiest wife! I think Hari understood the look which I was giving. His wife was also very pretty and he would have felt the same I guess.
He came upto me, gave me a hug and said in a my ear. “Don’t worry dude, after a few days, even Madhuri Dixit becomes boring.”
He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and we both burst out laughing. He somehow looked as if he had had alcohol but there were no traces of that anywhere near. He stood around while Kriti introduced me to her extended family. He offered me his glass of Coke. I said no. After two minutes he again offered it to me and whispered in my ear “A
fter a few sips, even Coke tastes like vodka.” He winked at me. “And after a few sips of vodka, even aunties look like angels.”
I quickly took the glass from him and gulped it down in one go. I think it had more alcohol in it than the Coke but it made me feel good. All of a sudden, I had a bigger smile on my face. I really did feel happy.
The time came and we exchanged rings. She had selected a pretty expensive one for herself. It had made my wallet lighter by around Rs. 1.5 lakhs. She said that with the ever rising prices of metal and rock, this was to be thought of as an investment rather than a gift. If I had used that amount of investment on my car, I would be driving around with a much bigger boot but that was besides the point. Plus, the ring which her parents had selected for me was not bad either. It had cost them around 2 lakh rupees but in India if you are father to a girl, get ready to spend ridiculous amount of money for your son in law.
The ring exchanging part took us a long time. She wanted it to be done in a typical English wedding style, minus the kissing the bride part of course. Hari posed as my best man, a drunk best man who had tried, and in fact mildly succeeded in making the groom drunk, and she surprisingly had her room mate, about whom she could not stop complaining day in day out, as her bridesmaid. I could not understand it. Maybe it was to make her feel jealous that Kriti was now getting married and her roommate was still single. I really could not understand girls. Plus, it was not that Kriti was getting engaged to her beloved Shah Rukh Khan, she was getting engaged to me! Why the jealousy?
So the rituals of our engagement were played out in the form of a traditional English marriage. There was no priest but there was a pandit who was overlooking the proceedings and not looking very happy about it. Unlike the usual marriages, where he used to speak Sanskrit shlokas which no one understood, here he was to read lines written by Kriti herself.
He started with the lines and asked Hari to come forward and hand me the ring. Hari was lost gazing at something on the ceiling. I think he had a little too much of the Coke. A little push from my mother helped and he came forward, there was music and he did an impromptu jig, went down on one knee and handed me the ring. I had been scared all this while that he was handling such an expensive thing but finally I had it in my hands. I saw his wife with their kid staring at him. I knew he would get all this back when he reached home. A big smile appeared on my face. Maybe I too had too much of the Coke.
It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I Page 2
