Seasoned with a dash of mischief

The first chapter of my story begins with a visit to India five years ago. My mother and I were visiting for the sole purpose of looking for a groom for my aunt as my maternal grandparents had requested our help in this. Why do I begin my story with this experience? Well…this was my favorite aunt and usually I had all my crazy experiences with her.

We used to live in a village in India then and when my grandparents and mother found a suitable suitor for my aunt, they decided to bring the family to see him the following week. It was planned that on a bright sunny Wednesday, my family and I would set off for our second family home in the town where my uncle’s family was to meet us. They were to arrive an hour after we would thus my grandfather had already made all the arrangements to greet them. All that was needed was for us to be present in the family home when they arrived. It was a viewing ceremony of sorts. Perfect planing is it not?

On the day itself, everyone got up early and two cars, beautifully decorated with marigold flowers, were prepared to bring us there. My aunt, my brother, my three male cousins, our camera man , my grandfather , the driver and I were all seated in a 5-seater car. You might be wondering how we all managed to fit in. So am I until today but that trick with the cars is the beauty of Indian families. In the other car were my grandmother, two older aunts , my mother and the “shagun” meaning gifts for my uncle and his family. We all set off for the 30km journey to the second family home, expectations high for a beautiful one. That is exactly where things went wrong.

Nine people squashed in one tiny vehicle would definitely do no good. In the car, conversations started. My two cousins, one my age and one older, began conversing with my brother on cricket. As common in boys, the need to show off was clear and each started comparing who was a better player. My other cousin, realizing that I spoke English fluently, felt an overwhelming need to show me that he could speak just as well . He began to converse with me in the language. Sadly, his attempts were unsuccessful; I could not decipher his heavily accented version of it. If you have ever heard traditional Indians speak English, you will know what I mean. If you have not, Google it, it is very entertaining.

Being young and full of life, between us five kids, we managed to make a hell lot of noise. The car also became extremely stuffy due to the overly sunny weather and temperatures of 40 degree Celsius. My grandfather’s good mood seemed to be deteriorating by the minute and my aunt kept shooting him worried looks, fearing that he might lose his temper. The cameraman turned on the music, thinking it would soothe my grandfathers mood but it had the opposite results. My grandfather shot him the most murderous look I have ever seen till today. As excited as my grandfather had been about bringing “all the sweet kids” to see their uncle, he now looked like he wanted to throttle one of us.

As the journey went on, the amount of flowers hanging on to the car started to get on my nerves. They kept swinging back and forth outside my car window, blocking my view. They were also slowly falling off …but no one realized that.

Just then, our car blew a tire and everyone was ordered out by my grandfather. We waited patiently outside for a few minutes as the driver tried to fix the car. Our second car stopped beside the first and all the women in it poured out looking worried. It was decided that since the driver had no spare tire in the car( which got him a nice scolding from my grandfather), they would drive the second car to the nearest car shop for a spare tire. Until then , we women were to wait outside by the roadside.

In less than 10 minutes, everyone was perspiring, especially my dear aunt. My poor aunt had been beautifully dressed with heavy jewels,a heavily sequined sari, make up and high heels so that my uncle would not be able to take her eyes off her. Being her favorite niece she had done the same for me and there we stood perspiring enough to start a river from where we were standing. My grandmother was having a mini-heart attack of her own as she was muttering about how the breakdown of the car foreshadowed something ominous about to happen. My aunt and I found enough energy to roll our eyes at this. My grandmother’s thinking was nothing new. Being traditional Indians, we are capable of linking just about anything to superstition.

My grandfather returned in an hour with the driver and our seating arrangement changed. All the men were seated in one car and the women in the other as though were headed for some sexist union. We resumed our journey. Two hours passed and we were not even past half the journey. Everyone in the car seemed frustrated due to the horrible weather and we ended up drinking a lot of water. That is exactly where the second problem started. At the area that we were in, there was not a single shop or washroom in sight. Being a rural village, the villagers relieved themselves in the bushes in the area. Now how exactly were six women wearing heavy saris to relieve themselves in bushes nearby? Not to mention that there were men in the first car following right behind us. Seeing the delicacy of the situation, our driver took us down another route into an empty field area which was where we had to relieve ourselves.

After that, everything went well for three-quarters of the journey. Then upon knowing that we would be reaching soon and an hour after that, the groom’s side would arrive, my grandfather panicked. You must be wondering why considering that everything had been perfectly planned. Well…it is common in the Indian families to impress the in-laws, especially when we were from the bride’s side. The first plan had been to show off our two beautifully decorated cars, the nice and sweet women and the beautiful town house. However what was left from the gruesome journey was-two cars that were muddy and had about seven to eight flowers left hanging as the rest had rotted or fallen. Women who were in no mood to be sweet and we had not even checked the conditions of the “shagun” considering the sweltering heat.

My grandfather had a brain wave at that moment. He left us to rest at a traditional “Dhaba” meaning food place and brought the two cars to be redecorated. After all, he had to save his pride in front of the grooms family. We had taken out the “shagun” which contained Indian sweets,fruits, more flowers, Jewels and clothes and let it cool in a nearby area. At this point, my aunt was definitely feeling embarrassed. She was heavily dressed for a function with eight other woman and boys. Not to mention that the place was piled high with gifts to be given to the groom’s side. We seemed to have captured the Dhaba in some sort of rebellious action and the owner kept grumbling. Any passing motorist seemed to laugh at us and my aunt was on the verge of tears.

It just seemed so ironic to me that everything had been planned by my grandpa down to the last detail and even then everything was going wrong. Just then, my grandfather came back telling us that there wasn’t a single shop nearby that would decorate the car for us. He had also received a call from the decorators for our town house telling him that they had not finished decorating the house and everything was still very messy.

My aunt looked pitiful. All her make-up had smeared over her face. I had a feeling I looked the same. She begged my grandfather to call my uncle’s family over another day. My grandfather refused, looking embarrassed. My grandmother and he were just too worried about the impression we would give to the groom’s family. That’s when hell broke loose. My aunt burst into tears. My grandmother looked as though she was about to join her. My brother and three cousins groaned at the melodrama and ended up angering my grandfather, who ended up scolding everyone. My aunt cried harder. I stood there looking at my aunt confused… and … well, I fainted. The heat had been too much for me.
 

When I woke up, it was night-time and we were in the town house. I was in one of the guest rooms and my aunt walked in dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She looked extremely happy and informed me that my uncle would be visiting tomorrow.
Only after badgering my aunt did I find out that why it had been called off. My uncle’s family was told that I was hospitalized as I had food poisoning. I had been used as a scapegoat to save my grandfather’s reputation.