Indian Wedding Tales

R U D R A : part I

R U D R A 

"Which do you think she'll like?" My mother asked as she placed the two newly purchased sarees on the sofa and turned to me.

"The yellow one" I answered as I picked up the saree and inspected the soft fabric. The cotton saree was bright and lovely to touch and I found the light pink lace on the border giving it a good contrast.

"Really?" My mother asked in surprise. "I thought she'd find it tacky and loud"

"She'll like it" I affirmed and placed the cloth down and turned to her.

My mother continued to frown while her eyebrows were furrowed. She eyed both the sarees again, the other one being a pistachio green.

"Are you sure? I've seen her tearing her hair out when things don't go her way" My mother shuddered visibly. I shook my head at her.

"Her client's way" I reminded and fell back on the sofa looking over at her open luggage with everything spilling out. I had really hoped this trip to Hrishikesh had made her see life with a different perspective and be more opening of the fact that since her son is now married, our family of two has become bigger.

"She would be happy even if you give her a wild flower," I found myself mumbling. Brown eyes with sparkles in them suddenly evaded my thoughts. I stilled as I recalled the way her teeth would bite down on her lip when she was trying to figure out the color palette for her projects or the way she just pushed past all mess and tackled me when trying to bury herself in my arms and-

"Rudra!" My head snapped to my mother, looking at me with tired sunken eyes. "I asked if you could make some tea, I think I have a headache coming."

"Sure, sure" I answered and pushed my feet to work and walked to the kitchen. I stopped when I noticed the state it was in. The kitchen island was littered with onion peels which were supposed to be in a corner but had flown away. Pinchful turmeric and other spices were splayed and I absolutely hated the way there were droplets of water which hadn't been wiped. There was a pan on the stove which had leftover Poha stuck to the base and the spatula was still inside it.

I felt like an itch increasing on every part of my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath but heard my mother's muffled steps behind me.

"She really doesn't know her way around the kitchen, does she?" My mother looked horrified.

There was a similar look on her face, one I was too well aware of. I recalled the first time I had seen that look, when I had thrown a tantrum to wear yellow shirt and red corduroy pants on the school trip. She had given me a look that said she was shocked, irritated and highly disappointed.

"I'm not going to comment anything though," she made a show of locking her lips and started looking for the medicine box. One more look at the mess in front of me and my legs sprang to life. I poured water in the pan so as to soak the dried up poha, I collected all the onion peels and started scrubbing the kitchen top with soap and water. I didn't stop until I could no longer see the yellow of turmeric or the smell of chilli on the knife blade.

I had just put the tea leaves to boil in the water when the doorbell rang.

I hurried towards the door before my mother could and pulled it open to find Hardika being pulled down by two huge bags in her hand.

"Hey" she smiled widely and I saw the way sweat covered her skin as she walked inside the home. When she puckered her lips and stepped a little too close to me, I took a step bag and whispered, "Mom's here"

At my statement she immediately straightened her posture and stumbled behind as she tried to distance herself from me. My mother walked into the living room complaining about her headache but stopped when she looked over at us.

"Hi, maa. How was your trip?" Hardika instantly smiled at my mother and shuffled forward to greet her but the look on my mothers face was the same one I had seen moments ago. I knew why and my skin pricked at irritation.

My mother purposefully let her eyes trail slowly down my wifes body and taking in what she had worn. Hardika was oblivious to her lingering eyes and she bent forward to touch my mother's feet. My mother looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I sighed mouthing her to not say anything.

When Hardika rose, my mother pulled her lips into a forceful smile. "Where had you been, darling?"

"Oh, just to be stationary across the road since I was out of supplies," Hardika smiled and pushed the hair out of her face. Her worn out T'shirt resembled a kitchen cloth and the pants she wore were baggy beyond acceptable. Did she not look in the mirror before leaving?

Before I could dwell more on the question, I closed our house door and marched to the kitchen to check on the tea.

Frustration seeped in my veins and I realized just how much I had to control myself to not say anything I shouldn't. My mother would eventually break that rule and say something hurtful to Hardika but I didn't want that. Yet I wanted her to understand that her habits needed a positive change. How would I even confront her about this?

Will I walk up to her and say, Hey, Hardika, when you leave the kitchen it feels like a cat just went mad in there. Also, you leave the bathroom floor soapy after you take a bath and I have to pour buckets of water so I don't end up slipping on it. Your hair looks like you haven't moved a brush in it since Modiji banned thousand rupees notes and it's irritating when I see you use the chair as a clothes stacker than to actually sit on it!

My mental monologue needed to end when I felt Hardika walk into the kitchen.

"You know I tried making Poha today!" She exclaimed as I turned to her. She frowned then, "but it was hard and sticky"

Like my mother, I had to force my lips up, " Yeah, I know"

And it's been two months you're trying to make it right.