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‘May I have your attention please,’ muttered Purva under his breath. The grammar puritan, I thought benevolently, stealing a glance at the kurta-pyjama-clad doctor standing beside me. Purva is, if I were to be honest, not the most handsome man on this planet. Don’t get me wrong; he is not bad-looking. His large, intelligent, black eyes fanned with long lashes give him a sharpness and an innocence that I find very appealing. Thick, wavy hair frames a wise, calm face. Good-looking, yes, but let’s just say you won’t confuse him with Tom Cruise or Hrithik Roshan. Clad in a maroon-and-beige kurta, which was, I have to say, uncharacteristically fancy for the jeans-and-white-tee Purva, he did look quite handsome. My cousin Mili would not stop staring at him and I debated the pros and cons of taking off my expensive heels and hitting her on the head with them.
Mausaji cleared his throat and launched into his speech. ‘Times have changed. They have! They have! My father used to buy bread that cost seventy-five paise and now I buy bread for seventy-five rupees.’
‘Seventy-five rupees!’ exclaimed Mausiji, her mood obviously still foul. ‘Is your bread made of gold?’
Mausaji glared at his wife and then continued. ‘So, times have changed. Gone are the days when the girl’s family was any different from the boy’s family.’ Mausaji paused. It did not sound grand enough. ‘In fact, I will have to say that gone are the days when anyone was any different from anyone else,’ he said with a flourish. He fidgeted a little bit, pulled up his pants and patted his belly. Though everyone nodded their heads in agreement, I doubt if anyone – including Mausaji himself – was able to make sense of this valiant declaration.
Not the one to be impeded by logic or sense, Mausaji continued. ‘So it’s easy to see…’ he paused and looked around dramatically, ‘that we are all the same. We are one!’ he said with a theatrical sweep.
It was now my turn to disguise a laugh into a cough. The mental image of everyone in the room rolling into each other and becoming one just would not leave my head. Purva, his lips twitching, patted my back.
‘Now that we are all one,’ continued Mausaji, ‘it is time to … do something about those who stand in front of us.’ He had, quite evidently, lost the plot.
‘Prabhaji,’ said Mausaji, bowing gracefully towards Mum, who beamed in return. ‘Allow me to do this.’
‘Sure,’ said Mum in an instant.
I glared at her. Do you even know what Mausaji has up his sleeve, I asked silently, getting quite worried. Anything could happen now.
Mausaji smiled. Dad looked extremely bewildered. I still needed to pee.
‘Allow me, Mrs Shukla,’ said Mausaji, ‘to present to you the engagement ring.’
‘What?’ I said.
‘What!’ exclaimed Dad.
‘What?’ cried Mausiji.
Mausaji blatantly ignored us and continued to smile at Mum. Dad look decidedly uncomfortable when Mausaji began to walk towards Mum with the little jewellery box in his hands and a silly smile on his face. Mental images of Mausaji going down on one knee in front of Mum while a horrified Mausiji looked on made me feel very weak.
Mausaji, blissfully unaware of the panic he was causing, cleared his throat, preparing himself to speak. ‘We know that every parent dreams of their daughter’s engagement. However, today is Purva’s father’s birthday. It would mean so much to us if, in his memory, Kasturi and Purva got engaged today. That way we would have included in the ceremonies that wonderful man whose time on the planet was cut short so suddenly.’
Someone sniffed. Finally Mausaji was getting the kind of response he had been hoping for. Better late than never. Encouraged, he continued. ‘That man was the greatest doctor that ever lived. The greatest man that ever lived. The greatest soul that ever lived. So kind, so gentle. And if you agree with this, Prabhaji, it will be a very generous gift from your family to ours, for which we shall remain indebted to you for life. We know it is a surprise, but it would mean so much to us … so much, so much!’
‘Bhai Sa’ab,’ said Mum, wiping her eyes, though I am sure I did not see any tears. ‘Please, please go ahead. We have but the greatest respect for the memory of Dr Dixit and would love to include him in every way possible.’ Then she paused, looked at Dad and, as an afterthought, asked, ‘It is okay, isn’t it?’
Dad, too dazed to say anything else, nodded his head.
‘Smile!’ shouted Vikki as he began to furiously take pictures.
‘Hurray!’ shouted a bespectacled little boy from Purva’s family, clearly delighted that the boring monologue was now over.
‘What?’ said Purva, sparing a hand over his forehead. He had come for a meal but it seemed he was also getting engaged.
‘What?’ I said, looking around in bewilderment.
‘H ... how?’ asked Purva, wide-eyed with surprise.
‘I know!’ I exclaimed. We were now babbling indignantly to one another, as the relatives busied themselves in hugging each other.
No one, of course, bothered with us and before I knew it, in the midst of claps and cheers and flower petals that appeared from nowhere, Purva had put a ring on my finger and I had put a ring on his. And just like that, working on autopilot, we were engaged.
‘What just happened?’ I asked, looking at the ring on my finger.
‘I have no clue,’ said Purva, shaking his head. ‘I think we just got engaged.’
The mothers clasped us to their chests. Dad got all teary-eyed. We went around the room touching relatives’ feet and were fed so much kaju katli in the process that I was sure I would be sick. It was about ten minutes later that I found myself in a quiet corner with Purva. Alone at last, just the two of us…
