July 2008
Monsoon is that time of the year when nostalgia somehow runs high. After all, dampened souls can cry their hearts fill in the rain without anybody noticing their tears. It is also the time for weddings. A time when two people find redemption in each other, be it for money, security, sex, love, companionship, providence, adjustment or simply a helpless surrender to fate. But for some it’s also a time for heartbreak, if it’s not the way one had intended it to be. A time when tears down our cheeks are enough to bring a deluge in itself, sans the rain. A time when we wish we cease to exist. A time when we curse God for our lot. And surprisingly also a time when some people rise above themselves in an amazing display of character as I witnessed in one of these weddings and gained many a realization in the process. Here goes the story:
There is a tea vendor in my locality by the name of ‘Kompaani’ (I have his pic somewhere in my Orkut or Picasa albums). A young lad junior to me by two-three years, hardworking, honest, good guy and basically quite serious about life. He runs the local ‘chai ki dukaan’ as I mentioned earlier which is a stone’s throw away form my house. U might imagine the crowd at his place in the evenings when people come for tea or an evening snack. I don get to meet him on most weekdays when I’m away at work but I make it a point to pay him a visit in the weekends and spend some time with him over tea. And whenever mom is out of town, I take him and Paanu (works for us) to eat out (he incidentally is Paanu’s best friend and hence the attachment). The guy is doing quite well going by his economic background and limited education, has his own bike and runs his family that lives just behind his cabin. The guy like any other lad of his age, dreamt of settling down with a nice girl and live happily ever after in conjugal bliss. So far so good.
A few days ago, on returning from work, I saw a marriage invitation on the desk. It was from an old man in our locality who sold vegetables in the local market. He was getting his daughter married and had come to invite us. Mom had taught stitching to the girl, something mom herself had learnt back probably in her home science honors days I presumed. Hence I knew the girl. She was a nice, decent girl by all accounts.
Mom asked whether I would go. I decided to go as I thought it would be a great opportunity to meet some of my friends who drove autos or ran betel or chai shops like Kompaani himself (social bonding is quite strong around the old town area where I live). Everybody knows everybody. It’s a small world here. I like making friends with these people and have a decent rappo among them. Though downtrodden, these people stand by u in times of need. To cite an example, the local auto driver just needed a call to attend to me when I ran out of gas midway while returning late from office. It was past
The wedding was on a Sunday. I came to know from Paanu that Kompaani had been invited and Paanu had told him that we would all go together. So in the evening at around seven Paanu and myself went to Kompaani’s house to pick him up. We found him lying on his bed in his small room. He said he wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t join us. I said the chicks at the wedding might make him feel better and pulled him out of bed. And that’s when I saw it. The guy was crying. The silent crying I mean. His eyes were wet and his body shaking. And that’s when it dawned on me – he loved the girl.
He burst out and broke down. His body was shaking even more and the silent suppressed crying had been replaced by the crying of a child who had been denied his toys. I was speechless. Maybe I was overawed by the sudden outburst of emotions and didn’t know how to deal with them. Or may be I freezed like a eunuch. Paanu comforted him and after some time the guy regained his composure. He said he feared that his emotions might get the better of him and that might create a scene at the wedding. Hence he didn’t want to go. But all the same he didn’t want to spoil our plans and so requested us to proceed. At that point of time, for once I thought of skipping the wedding to express solidarity with him but went anyway.
This was the wedding of a vegetable seller’s daughter, so obviously it was a simple affair. But what really touched me there was the fact that the emotions were all the same as those in the big weddings that I had attended as well. The girl’s father personally came to greet us at the door of the pandaal. While Paanu departed to help with the arrangements, I decided to catch up with the community people. It felt good meeting the guys after a time. Ant then it happened. Around 40 mins into the wedding Kompaani arrived. Neatly dressed, tears gone and smiling (probably fake). He delivered an envelope to the girl’s mother which probably had some money and promptly came back to me. I jokingly asked if the lure of the wedding girls was too strong to resist, hoping to add some cheer. I guess it din help much or may be it was a bad joke on my part. After some time we had dinner together. It was somewhat different to have a sit down dinner with people serving you rather than the do-it urself stuff that happens these days. While the menu had only four items, the hospitality made a big statement in itself. I told u these poor people have a big heart! After some time we all met the father and thanked him and left.
While returning, none of us spoke much. I decided to accompany my friend till his house. It was 10.30. Kompani told us to come in and prepared paan. I knew that he wasn’t in the slightest mood to do this. Probably it was just a gesture of thanks. I decided to stay back for some time. I somehow felt that if the man could find someone to discuss, it might just lighten his burden. So I asked him why didn’t he ever tell the girl or her parents. After all I had come to know that financially, there wasn’t much of a difference between the groom and my friend. Probably they wud have agreed. He replied saying he never had the courage to do so. The reason was the girl belonged to a higher caste. But then they say hope is eternal. We live in hope. That is what makes us go through the drudgery that is today in the hope of a better tomorrow. He told me he had saved a decent amount to improve his standing if he were ever to ask for the girl. She was the reason he worked so hard, keeping open till
That night while I lay in bed, the images of the day flashed in my mind one after the other. I figured every thing in the chain of events had some message. I had made many a realization in the anatomy of love.
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