My Girlfriend's Marriage

Background:- I almost spent my teenage in those old government colonies built in the outskirts of the city. My father worked with Indian Railways. I always wondered who designed Indian trains and such colonies probably the same guy as one could hardly differentiate such government quarters and train bogies. Those quarters included a vast coverage of bare land at the front of the house, which you're supposed to convert into a beautiful kitchen garden otherwise wild bushes would grow up and extensively be used by snakes and other dangerous reptiles to hide. In addition, the shared stairs with your neighbours to reach the gigantic roof from a huge common backyard were at the stake of privacy. The living space was hardly 20 % of the entire constellation. The toilet was of course outside the house. 

It was of no motivation to live there till I saw her first time. That day, my mother sent me to place wet Papads (home made Indian snacks) on the roof. You can't deny your mother for any nature of work at home because of her threat of complaining it to my already angry, tired and frustrated father from work every evening. 

I ascended the stairs holding those Papads as she was descending gently. I smiled and said "Hi" for which she replied with a cute smile. In today's times, it is just a great start, but for a small town boy from a hindi medium boy's school in 1995, it was too much to digest. I rushed to see her father's name plate to check which caste she comes from. She belonged to Brahmin (Priest) and I was Baniye (Business). Though I was hardly aware of the hierarchy of Indian caste system but it seemed to be not that difficult to arrange this marriage. That night I made a concrete plan of how to proceed further. The ultimate goal was to get married to her. 

Some Intermediate Explanation:- (Who thinks of marriage at the age of 16 ? You are right ! No one does now. But what else you expect from the times of 1995 in a small town ? You can't meet girls because you study in the government hindi medium schools and school administration either makes two separate shifts for boys and girls or if you are a bit lucky, the girls can study in your shift but definitely in a separate section. The younger girls in your neighbourhood call your Bhaiya (Brother) and you have to address Didi (Sister) to every elder girl you meet. Even then you get a girl, you can't date her because of CCE (Close Circuited Eyes) all around the town. There, everyone knows somebody who knows someone in your family. This chain can spread anything. Difficult times ! ) 

Next day, I returned from the school and saw her entering my house with a fat woman. I hesitated to step ahead. It took me 15 minutes to enter my own house. 

"Son, she is Sharma aunty and her daughter Neha. They are our first neighbours. Neha didi is studying in BA I year." My mother introduced. 

Oh damn ! Neha didi ? Why should I call her didi ? Why did I enter my house that day ? I cursed Indian pledge that says "All Indians are my brothers and sisters, though I never uttered that line in my entire life. I decided not to call her didi. 

There was no sign of hope till she came to me and asked " Which class do you study?" 

Was it real ? Was she talking to me ? I replied " Class XI, Science Maths". I was overexcited hence over-answered. She smiled and left. 

In the next months, we exchanged some more smiles and short messages. Thanks to 1980's hindi movies that enlightened us with an idea of hiding messages in the books and exchanging books were no crime. I even exchanged a rose on her birthday. In return gift, I expected her to say "I love you". 

With her continuous denials and my constant efforts, she agreed to say "I love you". But the question was where to say it ? I had an idea. It was a fool proof plan. 

I sent a message " You have to give single tone missed call on our landline phone when there is no one around at your home. If I send back the same single tone missed call, it's safe to call me." 

We were not privileged with mobile phones. 

After consistent trials, we managed to get a green zone. Her mother was sitting with my mother in our common backyard. 

She rang and said "I love you. Now happy ?" She hung up the phone. 

I was on top of the world. My mother called me and asked " Whose phone was that ?" 

I replied anxiously " It was a blank call" 

My mother annoyingly said to Neha's mother " Bhabhiji, we are getting too much blank calls these days." 

Her mother agreed " Hmmm. We too bhabhiji." 

Both cursed the blank callers and BSNL. I escaped the place.

It took me another several months to convince her to kiss me. She sent a message " You meant on hand na ?" 

I replied "Kisses are always on lips. Understood ?" 

My father got a transfer letter few days later.

I directed her "If you love me, you have to kiss me before I leave the city. Otherwise this love story ends now." 

She agreed after several refusals. It was the night before we planned to leave the city with our stuff. I kissed her on the common roof. With tears in her eyes, she left immediately. My lips, tongue and throat got dried. My heart started beating beyond the danger zone. I was called downstairs. I wasn't in my control. We left.

3 years later .........................

We received her wedding card. Neha weds Banwari Lal Sharma. Though my parents ignored the invitation, I was determined to attend the wedding. I reached there. Our eyes met. She ignored. 

Her uncle asked me " Son, your parents didn't come ? But it's good you are here to attend your sister's marriage. Now you have to work a lot in next two days." 

I passed a fake smile showing my disagreeing agreement. 

He continued " Son, could you arrange the chairs first and then serve Thandai  (Indian beverage) to Baraatis (Groom's family) and most importantly to your jiyaji. They are staying in the guest house." 

I agreed with a fake smile. I met the groom and cursed Neha's decision to marry a fat guy. 

I worked like a wedding sister's brother. It was a general impression among Baraatis that I was among the main brothers of the bride. That's the reason I skipped the Fera Rasm (Important Ritual of Indian marriage), because they would have forced  me to pursue Kanyadaan (Important Ritual of Fera Rasm which brother of the bride performs) of my first love. It would have been too much.

I wished her good luck and left.  

I never dared to visit her later in life. Probably if I had visited her, her kids would have called me "Mama"(Maternal Uncle). I couldn't have handled it.