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‘Really, Kas,’ Purva said, straightening up. ‘We will need to work on Mum.’
‘But how?’ I said, looking around.
‘I have no clue,’ said Purva, shaking his head.
‘Neither do I,’ said Anu, biting her nails.
‘Me neither,’ said Pitajee.
‘I,’ said Vikram looking quite superior, ‘may have an idea.’ Attentively, we all leaned in to listen to his masterplan.
30 August 2013.
‘Don’t you have any shame?’ I asked Pitajee.
‘No,’ he said, his mouth full of chips.
‘There is a girl in this room trying to sort out her sari,’ I tried again, as Anu fiddled with the two hundred safety pins that were holding up the proverbial six yards of grace.
‘Who? Where?’ he asked, looking around, unable to spot the ‘girl’.
I picked up the bottle of talcum powder and threw it at him. He ducked artfully to dodge the flying weapon.
‘Arre, Bahu,’ said Pitajee, coming closer and amicably placing the talcum powder back on the dressing table where it belonged. ‘What about the ghoonghat?’
Grinning idiotically, he placed the aanchal of the sari over my head. I stared at the reflection in the mirror and had to admit that I looked tense. It was, after all, only the most important day in my life and nothing was in my control.
‘Pitajee,’ I groaned. ‘I look so silly.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s fine. Anju Aunty will like this.’ Anu, who was helping me with the bangles, now nodded her head in vehement agreement.
I sighed and stuck a safety pin to make sure that the pallu did not slide off. Today was a big day. Anju Aunty had only this morning been informed that Purva and I were back together. Before she could have a shock induced heart attack, Purva had invited her to my place for dinner.
She would be here anytime now.
7.00 p.m.
You could cut the tension in the room with a blunt knife. The air was heavy with suspense. The only thing missing was a suitably goose-bump-inducing background score from a B-grade horror flick.
Anu, Pitajee and I sat in the living room looking nervously at each other. Pitajee was chewing his lower lip, Anu was biting her nails and I was trying to manage my sari. Anytime now…
The bell rang shrilly, cutting through the blanket of anxiety we were all wrapped in, making us jump.
Purva, Vikram and Anju Aunty had arrived. And with that, it began.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ I heard her saying when I walked into the drawing room. She was clearly still recovering from the shock of having me back in the life of her precious son. Oh, well.
Anju Aunty stopped mid-sentence the moment her eyes fell on me standing shyly at the door, clad in the yellow sari, head covered in a pallu, bangles adorning my hands. I was, let’s face it people, any potential mother-in-law’s sweetest dream.
‘Umm … Kasturi,’ she said, staring at me from top to toe. ‘You are wearing a sari and bangles.’
‘Ji Auntyji,’ I said, primly settling the pallu over my head and walking towards her, Anu by my side. ‘Charan sparsh, Auntyji,’ I said and bent low to touch her feet. Pitajee had spent two hours with me the day before, helping me perfect the charan sparsh.
‘Charan sparsh to you too, Beta,’ said Anju Aunty, obviously bewildered at what was happening. For a moment, I wondered if I should bless her with a ‘doodho nahao, puto phalo’ just for kicks, but one glare from Anu, who knew exactly what was going on in my head, and I shut my mouth. The whole idea behind this was for me to not be me.
‘You … err … look different…’ Anju Aunty mused.
‘Ji Auntyji,’ I said, nodding my head and looking down at my hands. With the TV awash with perfect daughters-in-law, Anu and I had to but watch a few hours of saas-bahu serials to perfect my imitation of the ideal bahu. I looked up at the ceiling and sent a silent thanks to Ekta Kapoor.
