Chupke Chupke

It seemed like the sun and breeze had made a pact that morning because the weather was perfect. Not too hot and not too cold, just right. It reminded Chanderi of Goldilocks and she wondered if the story was too childish for Chiranjeev’s students. They were about 8 or 9 and if you believed him, little humans who were fast becoming adults with firm dislikes.

She was in another garden, this time for her mehendi ceremony. At the time they had been planning their wedding, she had thought five days would make the events less stressful for the guests. But now, she was itching to tell the five people who had descended on her to ensure her mehendi was done exactly right to fuck off and leave her alone.

Despite sleeping for ten hours, she was exhausted. Not even daydreaming about impossible designs had brought her solace. Thinking about Chiranjeev’s face only brought nausea so she had stopped that immediately. People around her were drinking mojitos and dancing to the songs that one cousin with a paid Spotify had put together. He apparently had a playlist for every ceremony.

She couldn’t join in the fun, participate in the happiness. It felt just out of reach, like she was submerged under water and the sky was only partially visible. The worst part was, she was doing a poor job of hiding her turmoil because in the last five minutes, Pihu had sent her numerous glances. In each, her frown was getting deeper and deeper.

Done with her mehendi, Pihu got up from her chair and settled next to her. Her mehendi artists had been hard at work but from five people, they had reduced to two, both of whom were taking a break, drinking tea and eating pakodas.

“You don’t look well,” she said bluntly. “Did you sleep okay? Are you sick?”

Chanderi grimaced. “I don’t know.” She opened her mouth and closed it. How honest should she be? “I feel like I have this pit inside my stomach and it’s not going away.”

Pihu said, “Have you tried talking to Chiranjeev about it? I always feel better after talking to Prachal. He’s a great listener. And doesn’t try to fix things. He’s so unlike…you know…”

Chanderi’s anxiety softened at the mention of Gauraang. Pihu and he had not gotten along…at all. But they had stayed together, because that is what custom dictated. He died of congenital heart disease three years ago setting her free, for good or bad.

“You love Prachal,” said Chanderi looking at her hands. The intricate design was one her mother had chosen after pouring over designs for a month. It was beautiful and yet elicited none of the good reactions from her.

Pihu laughed. “Well, yes. And you love Chiranjeev. What’s your point?”

And that was when everything clicked into place and she understood why nothing was feeling right, why despite choosing to get married, it still did not feel right, late though this realisation was. She did not love him. She liked him, he was a wonderful person and she remembered always feeling joy when they met, but would she go to war with her parents like Pihu had for Prachal? She didn’t think so.

She must not have been successful in hiding her thoughts because Pihu bumped their shoulders to get her attention and said, “It’s okay if you don’t love him yet. You will. I know it. He already adores you. He’s sweet and kind and he will keep you happy. What else is there?”

Her head a mass of opposing thoughts, Chanderi couldn’t do anything apart from agreeing with her friend.

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Chapter 3 of 26 of the ongoing series Chanderi. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.