“Tomorrow morning,” she said. “Yes, we are open!”
Something about the way she said it made me think that the open-till-noon thing had to do with various strings being pulled on the temple board as well.
I concentrated on the simple paper form in my hand. Bride’s name, groom’s name, temple member making the booking’s name—that would be Dad, right? I didn’t know if he technically was still a member of this congregation.
I looked back at the form. Temple donation: $500. Was that ALL? Dang, it was cheap to book a temple hall! But I didn’t think I had that much money on me. “Er… I’m not sure I have…,” I started.
“Make the payment tomorrow,” the lady said obligingly.
“Sure, if that’s okay with you,” I said, handing back the completed form. “So, are we booked for tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she said. “Krishna Ji will perform the ceremony.”
I smiled. Those simple words made the whole crazy thing feel better—Krishna Ji will perform the ceremony. Maybe this was also meant to be.
“Do we have a time?” Radhika Aunty asked.
“Yes, nine AM tomorrow, here,” I said, clutching the booking form to me. “Followed by the reception at Twenty-One Andrea Road, Westbury, at noon.”
“Write it down quickly,” she instructed. I jotted down the details and handed it to her. She walked briskly to the front and handed it to Dad. Dad looked at it, looked up at me, and mouthed: ARE YOU SURE?
I nodded vigorously, and he stood up, cleared his throat, and proceeded to read: “We, the families of Vinod Kapoor and Venkat and Ragini Iyer, declare the intention of our daughter Yashasvini Kapoor and our son Manish Iyer to marry at nine AM tomorrow, the twenty-seventh of August, at Sri Balaji Temple, Sherwood. The ceremony will be performed by Krishna Iyengar Ji, the head priest. A reception will follow at noon at the Kapoor residence at Twenty-One Andrea Road, Westbury.”
I suppose the announcement is usually a formality at these things because everyone already knows the details. But this was no formality—everyone was hanging on Dad’s words, including the bride and groom.
He looked up. “You may be aware that there has been a slight change in the plan due to the hurricane. We need to let everyone know the new date and venue so they can get here. Please help us spread the word.”
With that, Dad handed a platter of gifts to the Iyers, who in turn presented gifts to him. Manish grabbed the box containing the nice Punjabi sherwani we had bought him and went off to change.
“Mini!” I looked up to see Vinnie pass by surrounded by a flock of smiling Tamil ladies. I guess they were going to help her get changed. I got up and Masi put a hand on mine—“Let them,” she said.
So I took a deep breath and waited for Vinnie to emerge after they helped her dress.
Vinnie! OMG, Vinnie in a Kanji-freaking-varam! They had even put strings of jasmine flowers in her hair, and some gold temple jewelry too. She looked amazing!
Dad, meanwhile, looked on the verge of tears and ready to bolt.
Luckily I needed him to do something, which always calmed him down.
“Dad, you know the Indian grocery store in Framingham?” I said. “Go there and get this!”
“Now?” he asked.
“Yeah, now,” I said. “We’re just going to be eating now; they’ll understand.”
“Where’s Dad?” Vinnie asked.
“Dude, you look awesome!” I said. She looked stunning. “Manish, you too!” Manish looked even more transformed in the buttoned-up Nehru-collar jacket and pants than Vinnie did in her sari.
“So the wedding is here and the reception is at home?” Vinnie asked. “Will that work?”
“Yeah,” I said flippantly, trying not to let her guess the general state of panic under my smiling veneer. “Absolutely!”
“We need to let everyone know!” Vinnie said. “As soon as we get home, I have to call everyone!”
“Vinnie, what about the mehendi?” I asked.
“Well, we have to cancel that, of course.” Vinnie looked puzzled.
“But you have to have mehendi on your hands before you get married,” I said. “It’s tradition. Just look at them!” I turned her hands palms up.
Her palms were bare and tan and decidedly unbridelike. “Ohhh!” Vinnie said. “Do you think I could go to the mehendi lady?”
“I’ve called and canceled, and she said not to worry and that she’ll stay up late and do it for you whenever you can get to her,” I said.
“But she’s all the way over in Lexington, right?” Vinnie said. “That’s an hour and a half just to get there and back, and how long to put it on?”
“One hour,” I said. “If she does a rush job.”
Vinnie looked resigned. “Guess I’m getting married without the mehendi, then. No way I can spend two to three hours on just that tonight. We won’t even be out of here before ten-thirty—it’s more important to get the word out.”
“Or,” I said, “we can put it on you—Masi and me. It won’t be great but at least it will be mehendi.”
“You’re forgetting that we don’t have any mehendi,” Vinnie said.
“We will,” I said. “Dad’s on it. This is delicious, by the way!” The vadas and rasam and curd rice they served up after the ceremony were to die for.
“There is so much food left,” Ragini Aunty said. “Maybe you can take it home? It might come in handy tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I said. Good thing I had cleaned out the entire fridge last weekend. We had plenty of room to store stuff.
“Where’s your father?” Venkat Uncle asked. “I want to introduce him to my brother-in-law.”
“He had to run out on an errand, Uncle,” I said. “He’ll be back soon!”
“Oh, yes, there he is now,” Venkat Uncle said. So soon! Either Dad had floored it all the way to Framingham or the store was closed. I must have looked worried because Dad held up a grocery bag in one hand and gave me a lopsided grin and a cheerful thumbs-up.
Yeah, he had floored it.
“Vinod, I have to ask you for a favor,” Venkat Uncle said. “I heard what happened with that fellow Sondhi you hired to cater for the wedding on our recommendation. Please accept this check for what you paid him from our side. Please.”
The check was made out for the full amount Sondhi had cashed. Dad looked from it to Venkat Uncle and shook his head.
“No need for that. I will make the guy refund it!” Dad said. “And even if he doesn’t, it’s fine.”
“He may not give back the full amount,” Venkat Uncle said. “And you still have so many expenses. It’s not right that the bride’s side pay for everything. I don’t understand why we have so many functions anyway.”
“I don’t either,” Dad said. “But my wife, she would have loved…” His voice cracked for a second as he glanced over at Vinnie and Manish—smiling, happy, surrounded by people—and I reached over to grab his hand. “Look, please don’t worry, we don’t need the help.”
“I am sure,” Venkat Uncle said. “But it’s not if you need it; it’s the principle, you see. It’s both our children’s wedding. We should help.”
He was not going to take no for an answer.
“Okay,” Dad said, smiling. “If you insist.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” I said.
“No thanks required,” Venkat Uncle said. “We’re all family now.”
Late Friday night, Masi and I were with Vinnie in her hotel room. She had a room at the Newton Grand, where the wedding stylist was supposed to come in the morning to do her makeup and hair and to drape her chunni. We had forced Dad to go home to bed, since there wasn’t much he could do. Vinnie was typing, texting, and calling with one hand while I held a tube of henna over the other.
“Hold still, dammit!” I said. “I’m falling asleep here!”
“Okay, okay,” she said. I was attempting to execute one of the designs she had picked off the internet. Thankfully for all of us, her tastes ran to simple
symmetrical florals and paisleys. Masi had recused herself from the task of actually putting on the mehendi on the grounds of having bad eyesight and shaky hands. As if! She confined herself to critiquing my efforts, not that I wasn’t already nervous enough or anything, and also helping Vinnie type and take her calls—which was actually very handy.
“So, why did we have to cancel the horse?” Masi asked.
“What horse?” Vinnie asked.
“It was going to be a surprise,” I said. “Manish was such a sport about it!”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Vinnie said. “What happened to it?”
“The Patel-Bernstein wedding,” I explained. “They’ve had to reschedule too.” They must be dealing with the same crazy weather scenario we were.
“Oh, the poor things,” Vinnie said. “How long it must have taken them to plan that wedding. I really, really hope it doesn’t rain on their parade!”
“I’m just glad Shoma Moorty is willing to do our decorations before rushing off to do theirs,” I said. When Vinnie had called her and explained the situation, she had asked for an hour before confirming she could do the decorations at the temple in time for a nine o’clock wedding. Then she had called back and said she would—in spite of the Patel-Bernstein wedding. She would have to be there at what, five o’clock? Pure steel, our Shoma Aunty.
“Turn over your hand,” I said, and continued the design over the back of Vinnie’s hand. “Ooops! Masi—toothpick!” Masi handed me one and I carefully wiped off the blooper.
“Okay, done. There, now hold your palm outstretched, don’t smudge it while it’s wet, and don’t wash it off for at least two hours,” I said.
Vinnie held up her hands and scanned my work. “That looks totally legit, Mini,” she said. “You’re a pro.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You’re only saying that because you’re stuck with it. Do you want some on your feet too?”
“Just a little…,” Vinnie said. I worked a trail of vines and flowers from her big toe across the top of her foot to her heel and wrapped around her ankle. “How’s that?”
Vinnie nodded, so I finished the other side before putting down the cone and yawning and stretching. “I gotta get home and crash.”
Luckily Vinnie had already gotten into her pj’s before starting the whole henna thing, so she just had to roll into bed. I had to drive back.
“You go home,” Masi said. “I’ll stay here and help Vinnie get ready in the morning. And all the bridesmaids.” They were all either staying in the hotel or coming in the morning to get help putting on their saris. I was supposed to have helped them, but now…
“What about your clothes?” I asked.
“Send them with Vinod in the morning,” Masi said. “I know you have a lot to do, with the house. I won’t be much help there, but I know how to get a bunch of girls runway-ready.”
I gave her a hug. I was actually getting used to randomly giving her hugs. I think she even enjoyed them. Yes, she totally did.
And then I went home. I wasn’t going to bed anytime soon!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday morning dawned without a cloud in the sky, though satellite shots showed Indra storming up the Eastern seaboard. It was going to be legendary—or a disaster.
Either way, no one would ever forget it.
Game. On.
I sent off an email to all the gals invited to the mehendi, explaining things. I sent off a more detailed email to Shayla and Rachel. I sent off emails to all the neighbors on the street giving them a heads-up about the traffic mayhem about to descend on Andrea Road—and inviting them all to the reception. There is a saying in Hindi—pittey par doh joot aur—what’s two more blows if you’re already having your ass kicked? So what were a few neighbors when I’d already invited a whole wedding party?
The doorbell rang. I went downstairs to find Dad opening the door to Bauji. Bauji was holding a big cardboard box that said AMAZON PRIME. “This was outside, Vinod,” he said.
“Um… Mini, what is this?” Dad asked.
“Umbrellas,” I said.
“Don’t we have umbrellas?” Dad asked.
“Not ones that complement Vinnie’s dress,” I said. “And the bridesmaids’! These will look great in the pictures.”
“Okay.” Dad shook his head and turned to Bauji. “Are your guys here?” he asked. Bauji nodded toward the driveway, where two pickup trucks were parked.
“Here’s the list of things I’ve ordered,” I said, handing it to him. “It should fit in those trucks.”
I must have sounded worried because Bauji said, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”
“I’ll go with them,” Dad said.
“No, you have to get ready!” I said. “And they’ll have more room if you don’t go.”
And then they were gone. “Go have a shower,” I ordered Dad, “and I’ll put on the coffee.”
I was just going up the stairs when a Mirchandani Mirage screeched to a halt on the curb.
Vir stepped out holding a pot of absolutely brilliant pink chrysanthemums.
What with my late night, I probably resembled something his mom’s cat dragged in, but he looked showered and shaved and ready to go.
“I brought your flowers,” he said.
“Awesome,” I said, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear in a vain attempt at tidying up. “I thought they opened at eight?”
“They were there at seven AM and let me buy the flowers early,” he said, and started bringing in pots and pots of the most glorious vibrant colors of chrysanthemums—pink, yellow, white, red, orange.
I forgot how self-conscious I was for a moment and started hopping around in my flannel pajamas.
“Oh, they’re perfect, Vir!” I said. “Thank you!”
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
“Will you come to the wedding?” I asked.
“If you want me to,” Vir said.
“I do,” I said, and smiled warmly at him. Whatever those news articles said, my gut said different. And today, I was going to go with my gut.
“Was someone just here?” Dad asked. That had to be the quickest shower ever.
“Just Vir, bringing some flowers,” I said. “Coffee?”
“Vinnie is dressed and ready!” Masi said, giving me the update at the hotel. “We’ll go directly to the temple, Mini. Are you dressed?”
“No,” I said. I was outside watching Bauji and the guys unpack the gear from Taylor’s. “But Dad just left. Bauji and I will get there as soon as we’re done.”
Bauji and the dudes had a ton of stuff to unload from the pickup trucks. Alan put down a rack of china and the plates clattered alarmingly.
“Careful with that!” I yelled. “Careful!”
“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “We’ve got this!”
“The tent goes here, Bauji,” I said. “It should fit, I measured it. Did you bring the diagram of the gas lines and electrical lines?”
“Yeah,” Bauji said. “I have it right here. There’s nothing at all at the front. They all come down the side of the house, down the hill. We can put stakes as deep as we like in the front yard. Alan, Richie, come here.”
The guys had gotten everything off the trucks.
“Okay, you know we’re short on time,” Bauji said. “We need the lawn mowed.”
“Do we have time for that?” I asked. The grass wasn’t that high, but Bauji was a perfectionist—I had forgotten.
“Yes, we do,” Bauji said. “Mow the lawn first and then get the tent up. I want it weather-tight just in case we have rain. Mini, how d’you want the tables and chairs set up?”
“Like this,” I said, handing them a layout I’d sketched. “I don’t know when we’ll have time for the place settings.…”
“We can do it,” Alan said. “Do you want us to set up the tables and the plates and things? We can do it real nice.”
Could they? They had no experience laying place settings for weddi
ngs. But they were quick and smart and careful, that much I knew.
“Okay,” I said. “I need ten chairs per table, and ten place settings. Tablecloth first, then plates, silverware, wineglasses, napkins…”
“We can do that,” Richie said. “Do the flowers go in the middle?”
“Yes!” I said. “Exactly! And if you have time after that, could you get a bunch of fairy lights from the party store and string them on the trees?”
“Like for Christmas?” Alan asked.
“Just like that!” I said. “But only if you have time.”
“Go change, beta,” Bauji said. “I need to get that list of things the priest wanted to the temple. Your dad forgot it in the garage. You change and come fast, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
I tied on my red bridesmaid sari and secured it with a bunch of safety pins. Apart from Mom’s plain gold chain, I didn’t put on any jewelry. I didn’t want to look more dressed up than the rest of the bridesmaids—I had planned to change into the firoza-blue lehenga for the reception, but now I didn’t know if I’d even have time for that.
By the time I finished doing my hair and makeup, it was eight. The guys had already mowed the front lawn and started to raise the tent—which was huge!
I rushed to the Mini and started the engine. Tried to start the engine, that is. I had been so tired last night I’d left the headlights on—the battery was toast! And Vinnie’s wedding started in an hour!
I called Dad.
“Dad, my car’s dead, I need a jump start!” I said.
“What?” Dad said. “Okay, don’t panic. Call AAA, they’ll get you going!”
“They’ll take ages!” I wailed. “I’m not going to miss Vinnie’s wedding!”
“Then take an Uber,” Dad said.
“That’ll take ages too,” I said.
“There are jumper cables somewhere in the garage,” Dad said. “Maybe the guys can jump-start your car. Or take Alan’s pickup truck!”
“They can’t stop working—they’ve got too much to do,” I said. “Maybe Vir…”
Sister of the Bollywood Bride Page 20
