Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

14 ◆ Crab Orchard Review
Sita Bhaskar
“Go on, go on, enjoy your wedding banquet!” said the policeman.
He ushered Nirmala and Gaja into the tent set up for the banquet
where a spirit of camaraderie prevailed. They opened their package
and examined the contents: a silk dhoti and jubba for Gaja, a silk sari
for Nirmala, a gold chain with sacred fertility symbols, one thousand
rupees, ten kilograms of rice, and a box of condoms—mass-produced,
government-sponsored, bright-yellow box of condoms. Gaja dropped
his garland of yellow marigolds in an attempt to hide the condoms,
while Nirmala turned away. The Chief Minister was an unmarried
woman. It was not appropriate for her to be handing out boxes of
condoms to single men.
“See, the morning hasn’t been a waste after all.” The policeman
had come up behind them.
“But what if the people you picked are already married?” Nirmala
asked.
“See for yourself,” the policeman said.
Inside the tent packages had been opened and their contents
bartered. “I’m already married. Just give me the money and take all
the rest,” said one man to his new “wife.”
“Me, too. But I have a good-for-nothing husband,” said another
woman, sizing up her new “husband,” who looked like a deer trapped
in a car’s headlights.
Again in a synchronized movement, Nirmala and Gaja turned to
each other. “Are you…?” she asked.
“No. You?” he asked.
“No,” Nirmala said.
Gaja reached out and straightened the garland around her neck.
Nirmala picked up his garland from where it was hiding the box of
condoms and put it around his neck, lightly brushing her fingers over
his thick wavy hair. After all, it was a Swayamvaram—an ancient
practice where a royal bride chooses her partner from a list of warrior
suitors—and she had chosen Number 13.
“Wait here,” Nirmala said, and plunged into the crowd. Soon Gaja
lost sight of her. Even though it had been less than an hour since he met
her, he felt strangely empty. If she disappeared, he would never be able
to find her. He didn’t even know her name. What kind of a fool was he?
She had taken the silk sari and gold chain, but left the condoms with
him. An even exchange, he supposed, in the event that she had fled. He
should put a condom over his brain since it seemed like his brain cells
were oozing out today. After fifteen minutes, he sat down on the floor