Ae Dil Hai Mushkil

The haveli in front of Chanderi looked like it had sauntered off a Karan Johar set and planted itself such that it became the very definition of picturesque. It was tall and a gentle noncontroversial grey colour that only served to enhance the trellis above the double doors filled with bright green leaves. She could see the windows of the ground floor covered with cream-coloured curtains and the shrubbery around the walls was neatly trimmed and accessorised with smooth white stones the size of her fists.

She shook her head. Her parents had chosen one helluva spot for her second wedding. It was ridiculous, the amount of money they were spending, but it pleased them to do this for her. She had given up arguing with them a long time ago. Mostly.

From the outside, it didn’t look like a wedding venue but she knew it would be transformed by tomorrow. She had okayed, down to the cost of the white roses they would be using to create a shamiana to complement the trellis, every decoration, menu and rituals that would be done in the next five days. But being here, physically present, she couldn’t deny the queasiness she was feeling.

Pihu had brushed it off when she had casually mentioned it a week ago. “You’re nervous. It’s perfectly understandable,” is what she had said but was it only nerves? What if it was her body’s way of communicating with her that something was wrong?

A throat cleared next to her and she turned to see Pihu, who was in a pink salwar kameez. She was wearing Prachal’s favourite outfit so it was safe to assume her friend was meeting her boyfriend after making sure Chanderi had settled in.

“Should we go inside?”

Chanderi almost said no but she shook herself. This was unlike her. She was an assertive person, she had to be in her line of business as a designer. If she hadn’t learnt to speak her mind, the many aunties, darlings and suniye jis she had for clients would have demanded she paint the moon on their silks while charging them the cost of milk.

Before she could answer Pihu’s question though, her phone started ringing. It was the haveli’s manager. Two minutes later, a woman her age dressed in a wine-coloured business suit greeted them near the trellis. She shook hands all around and ushered Chanderi and Pihu inside.

The haveli was quiet and cool. It felt welcoming but Chanderi’s queasiness only increased the deeper she walked inside the palatial house that was all warm browns, beiges, maroons and creams. She loved it. As much as she loved playing with colours when she designed an outfit, there was something comforting about going back to the basics. The artist in her couldn’t help but note the splash of a green frame here, or a sparkle of a golden vase there. It was tastefully done and she couldn’t understand why now, so close to her wedding, she should be nervous.

The manager was telling them the history of the haveli and she knew Pihu was giving her concerned glances because she was not paying attention. Again, uncharacteristic of her. She thrived on listening to people and their ideas. Often, it was from her clients’ never-ending babble that gems emerged to help her visualise the art she would be designing.

But she couldn’t engage.

They reached the bridal suite and Chanderi, pleading a headache, got rid of Pihu and the manager. The suite was blessedly empty and would remain so until 5 when her mother and an entourage would come in to help her get dressed for the…she scrolled through her mental itinerary to find out what was the agenda for the day. Of course, it was a cosy family dinner to help the two sides mingle before the madness of the wedding swept them under.

She let out a bone deep sigh. Maybe she should just go to bed. Sleep would make her feel better, she knew.

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Chapter 1 of 26 of the ongoing series Chanderi. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.