tales of Suchita

Chanderi and Pihu had migrated to the bridal suite. It was 5 AM and the wedding planners had promised them a refund of 25% if they emptied the haveli by 10. So, everyone was in their rooms, trying to find all errant earrings, nose pins, sindoor dibiyas and dry coconuts to ensure they left by 9.59 AM so as to not lose out on that refund.

The two friends were quiet as they worked together folding her beautiful sarees and her as yet unpacked lehenga for the main ceremony. It was a blend of gold and maroon, so richly but minutely decorated that she felt a pang for an outfit not worn.

After spending thirty minutes in silence, Chanderi couldn’t take it anymore. She said, “You’re not even going to talk to me now?”

Pihu flinched at the accusation. She looked from the dupatta she was folding to her friend’s drawn face. “I’m just worried,” about you, about me, she added in her head.

Chanderi left the suitcase she was trying to close. She didn’t know why it wasn’t closing when it had the same number of items as before. She sat on the bed, arching to relieve the pain in her lower back. She huffed. “Why are you worried?”

Pihu left the dupatta to its devices and it promptly slithered to the floor. She shook her head, picked it up and sat on the other side of the bed. Only once she had the dupatta tamely folded and kept to the side did she open her mouth.

“Are you sure this is the right decision for you?”

All night, people had asked her to explain. Had asked her repeatedly why, why was she doing this, was she sure, had she may be considered…it had driven her up the wall and she was half concerned she’d claw out someone’s eyes if they didn’t stop asking her such inane questions. She hadn’t expected resistance from her friend.

“Pihu, it’s the wrong decision is a valid reason. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Because it doesn’t feel enough.”

Chanderi got up from the bed, quite fed up with Pihu and everyone else treating her like a child who was being questioned if eating ice cream before dinner was the right choice. “I’m allowed,” she said with tears in her eyes, “to want what I want without it making sense to everyone. As long as it makes sense to me, that’s all that matters.”

Pihu breathed out. “I know.”

She didn’t but what else could she say? She had been wanting to marry the love of her life for eight months! She couldn’t fathom someone willingly not going ahead with it when there was nothing majorly wrong. “But marriage…”

Chanderi looked away and her eyes fell on her lehenga, a corner of which was sticking out of the suitcase. Her head was throbbing, her eyes were itching with all the crying she had done and she was hungry and thirsty. She flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She said in a whisper, “I’m not against marriage, you know that. You can still want to marry Prachal. My story isn’t yours.”

Pihu sighed and went up to Chanderi. She laid down next to her and put her head on her shoulder. Nothing was right but she had to stop blaming her friend. She was right, it was her decision and if Pihu’s parents changed theirs just because of this, then it was her job to make it right. Not Chanderi’s.

“I’m sorry Chand,” she said. “I’m here, I’m in your corner, even if I have been a shitty friend about it.”

Chanderi smiled and settled more comfortably against Pihu.

*

Chanderi and Chiranjeev were the last people left in the haveli. He was subdued, she looked pale. Both were looking at the facade, trying to place the memory of everything that happened inside its walls in their history.

Had it all been bad? Was there some good they could salvage from this? Neither of them knew. It was too soon to tell.

Chanderi looked at him, at his well-polished chinos and shirt, and wished to ask if they could be friends but it felt too selfish a request to make.

He studied her back for a moment. She was in a shirt and jeans and he had an intense desire to hug her and keep her next to him.

Instead he asked, “How are you going home?”

“Prachal and Pihu are coming to pick me up.”

He nodded, giving her a crooked smile. “Give my congratulations to them. I heard her parents agreed.”

“They did,” she said with a smile. “I will.” He started to move towards his car when she said, “Thank you. I don’t know if I said that.”

He shrugged. Then giving into his whim, he hugged her. He whispered in her ear, “Thank you for trusting me.”

She saw him drive away and wondered if she would ever see him again. She hoped she would.

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Chapter 7 of 26 of the ongoing series Chanderi. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.

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