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

Sita Bhaskar
of the tent and decided to at least enjoy the banquet before he made
his way home. She had probably taken a look at his elephant ears and
rejected him.
The sounds of dismantling the stage and removing the barricades
reached him from outside the tent—the clang of metal barricades echoed
through the vast tent. Soon he would hear the band instruments being
loaded in the truck and taking their rendition of “Happy Birthday” with
them. A familiar tune reached his ears and soon the tent was filled with
traditional wedding musical notes accompanied by the rhythmic beats
of a traditional drum. Would this farcical day never end? Gaja raised
his eyes. And blinked. His new bride, dressed in a maroon silk sari
with intricate patterns woven in gold thread, was walking towards him.
She even had maroon slippers to match! She took him by the hand. He
pulled back, amazed that his brain was actually working. “Before you
disappear again, tell me your name,” Gaja said.
“Nirmala Rani. And yours?”
“Gajendra Kumar.”
Nirmala led Gaja to the green and red lacquer chair that had been
moved to the center of the tent. Nirmala sat on it, flanked by the two
carved peacocks highlighted in gold. She gave the gold chain to Gaja.
“Wait a minute,” he said. He turned his back to the crowd and
quickly changed into the white silk dhoti, discarding his everyday grayand-black-checked
sarong. He peeled off his brown T-shirt and slid the
white silk jubba over his lean, muscled torso. The cool silk sent a shiver of
anticipation down his back. He strode to the chair and clasped the chain
around Nirmala’s neck. Wolf whistles from the spectators threatened
to drown the melody of the wedding tunes. Since there was only one
chair, Gaja perched on the carved arm of the chair. Since there was no
vermilion powder for Gaja to adorn Nirmala’s forehead and parting
of her hair—the sign of a married woman—, they improvised with
turmeric powder from the banquet kitchen. The cooks also provided
some firewood for an impromptu sacred fire, and Gaja took Nirmala
by her right hand and led her around the fire in keeping with tradition.
The other couples and even the policemen and women blessed them by
throwing flower petals and rice mixed with turmeric on their heads.
Nirmala’s idea gathered momentum. Soon all the genuine
couples followed suit. Couples who were already married outside of
the Chief Minister’s jurisdiction and had been re-married at random
by the Chief Minister refrained from joining this serious occasion.
As they dispersed for the wedding banquet, an older policewoman
Crab Orchard Review ◆ 15