Chapter 58

54. A Piece Of Moon

[PAST]

The day his youngest daughter turned nineteen Brijesh Thakur decided to marry her off. There was a flutter in the family and the whole community. They all waited with bated breath to see who’d take away the prize.

Since Urmila had hit puberty, she had been causing stirrings in the family and their community. Her beauty and arrogance were unmatched, and her wit acerbic. Many had been victims of both her looks and her sharp tongue.

He began making visits to the families of eligible boys. The market was costlier and the grooms high priced. One year he wandered around but without any definite result.

Brijesh Thakur had once been an affluent man. However, as Nature is prone to petty jealousies. His fair days also did not last. He worked for the government and had amassed enough wealth from the under-the-table dealings to invoke the wrath of Nature. A newly transferred manager in his department, a forthright man got the whiff of his under dealings and he was rusticated.

A man who took more than a little interest in gambling and horses, he was reduced to an impoverished state by the time his daughter came of age.

Now, what he was looking for was a decent family with an employed groom.

Karuna and Keshav were one such family he was introduced to. The twenty four year old boy was well placed at a private company and his mother was a government nurse. There would be enough cash inflow, he thought. They had a home of their own and thus were secure.

He initiated the talks with the family.

‘I will not marry anyone! I will not. I WILL NOT!!’

An orthodox family, they did not believe in talks. 

After a few arguments, a scuffle, and two slaps later, she was made to meet the boy.

Keshav was a cheerful person and the apple of his mother’s eyes. Like every other boy of his age, he had particular notions about love and marriage. He was a regular cinema goer, and for years he had dreamt of coming across his soulmate in college or on a humid afternoon at a bus stop, or some rainy evening.

On nights, sometimes he would dream of making love to his future wife. Slowly and placidly. Sometimes he would imagine sitting with her for long hours just watching the rains and talking about anything and everything under the sun. Sometimes, in his dream,  they would get in a tiff with each taking turns to mollycoddle the other.

For a man to have spent so much time daydreaming about his future wife, he behaved quite like a clam in front of his intended bride. His heart thundering under his ribs, he could not meet her eyes for more than a few seconds.

While a young girl accompanied them to a room and then stood outside waiting for them to finish their talk, he offered his prospective bride a chair, which she took quietly, without a smile or a word.

‘I am Keshav,’ he had started. ‘You are... Urmila,’ he added.

He thought of other interesting conversation starters but could not recall any, his mind an unorganized mess at the moment. The tiresome expression on her face did not help. He wished he had more practice with the opposite sex. He wished that he had spent more time trifling with girls in his college years than playing in the field. 

He hated for appearing like a stuttering fool. 

‘Do you like cinemas?’ He had asked, for the lack of a better question.

Her gaze lifted, and the twinkle - something akin to interest - in the dark brown of her irises shot through his vulnerable heart.

‘I love movies!’ had been her reply. Then as if remembering something, she withdrew in herself, her shapely bow-like lips pursing.

Urmila was usually a chatterbox. Her presence saw no silent moment, her mind jumping from one topic to another in a matter of seconds. But under the coercing circumstances, she refused to give this man any part of her. 

Granted he was good-looking, far from her nightmare of a bald oldie. 

He was tall, had well-spaced eyes, full lips, and healthy hair on his head. But he was a mass of nerves as his eyes often darted around not settling at her for more than seconds. Her prince was supposed to be a force to be reckoned with, who could discourse on all kinds of subjects very confidently.

She did not know his thoughts at the sight of her. His gaze was filled with deference and...awe. Mostly, he would be salivating inside, she conjectured. That is the kind of reaction she had been eliciting in the opposite sex since her adolescence.

‘What kind of movies do you like?’ Keshav asked.

‘Cary Grant movies,’ she mentioned knowing full well he would have no idea what she was talking about.

‘Oh,’ he uttered, a frown on his forehead. ‘Foreign movies,’ he surmised. ‘I like Suniel Shetty and Ajay Devgn movies. Phool and Kante? Have you watched it?’

‘No. I am not very fond of Hindi movies,’ she lied.

‘It is my favorite.’

She did not remark and it unnerved him. From there on the burden of carrying the conversation fell on him.

‘Do you sing?’ He asked.

Urmila looked nonplussed. ‘How do you know? Did my father tell you?’

‘No,’ he said, smugly. Smug and excited, because he finally had her attention. 

‘Because of your songful voice. Even the punctuations of your speech, are melodic.’

‘Oh,’ she was rendered speechless. Then thinking he was no better than the incorrigible flirts of the mohalla that she dealt with every day, she wrote him off.

‘Formal training?’ He asked.

‘A few years but I was bored so left it.’  In reality, she had to stop her classes because of a lack of funds.

Talks like this required cooperation of two. In the end, the conversation languished. 

Keshav was more than discontented with the meeting. He had ascertained her disinterest and had recognized the difference between them. She was beyond his circles, and it hurt. He was willing to accept and move on. They were two banks of the river that need not meet.

It was a wonder then that Brijesh Thakur was willing to go ahead with the alliance. 

Keshav remembered the proud tilt of her chin as she had left the room once their meeting was over. She had agreed to marry him?

‘Fifty thousand rupees and a Bajaj scooter. Our boy is a graduate and works as a supervisor in a pharma company. Go around and you will realize how hard it is to come by grooms like these,’ said Karuna’s cousin, who had been her mouthpiece.

‘It would be too much for me, Bhaisaab. Please think about me as well. I won’t be able to afford a two-vehicle. There are other expenditures I need to take care of as well. Fifty at most I am willing to give,’ Brijesh had negotiated.

After a long discussion, the dowry had been settled. ‘Fifty thousand rupees and a watch of the latest model for the groom.’

No matter how much Urmila protested, she was getting married to Keshav Singh.

She tried to elope but locked in a room without food for a week, took the strength out of her. Notwithstanding her ripe breasts, her tall figure, and swaying hips, she was after all a twenty-year-old young girl fighting a battle that was tipped against her since the beginning.

Decked in finery, she had hugged her parents still feeling the pain of separation. When she had been locked in the dingy room for four days straight, she thought all goodwill for her parents had dried off. It hadn’t it seemed.

That she had married beneath herself, Urmila had an inkling. 

The sight of a one storey house, all red bricks, and white cement, had soldered her belief. 

Her insides twisted in recoil as she stepped her Alta dipped foot inside the house. Her first step. 

‘Bhabhi, we have heard that you sing very well. Sing a song for us,’ some girl proposed. Her head covered with a wide veil, she sat in the verandah surrounded by a throng of women. Her husband had disappeared sometime. She was still caught up in the religious rituals and now frivolous teasings.

‘Yes, sing a song for us. Sing...sing...sing,’ the girls chorused.

Urmila realized there was no way out for her and deferred to their wishes.

‘Tere mere hothon pe,

Meethe meethe geet mitwa

Aage aage chale hum

Pichhe pichhe preet mitwa

Tere mere hothon pe,

Meethe meethe geet mitwa

Aage aage chale hum

Pichhe pichhe preet mitwa ‘

‘Oho...Bhabhi...is this specially dedicated to someone? Here, see your song call reached Bhaiyya and now even he’s here. What happened Bhaiyya? Couldn’t stay away from your bride even for a few minutes?’ The girls tittered and it ingratiated on Urmila’s nerves.

Keshav had now changed into fresh pair of clean clothes. A white cotton shirt and black trousers, he raked his hand through his carefully combed hair, trying to act unaffected but the glow of his cheeks stating otherwise.

‘I am here to talk to Maa. Maa…,’ he said.

‘Aah, but Mamma’s boy, your mother isn’t here.’

‘Oh,’ he said and still lingered.

‘Now that you are here Bhaiyya, can you also sing a song for us?’

‘Me? But I don’t sing.’

‘One song Keshav. At least for your bride.’ Some elder lady coaxed him.

‘I don’t sing. I can’t,’ he was embarrassed. 

‘Come on, even our new bride wants to listen. Hain na, bahu?’

‘It’s okay. If he doesn’t.’ was her frail reply. She wanted to get done with all of this. It might be fun for them but she was exhausted to her bones. The marriage required her to be on a fast and her toes.

When she declined interest in his song, he realized he wanted to sing. He cleared his throat and started,

‘Mere Pyaar Ki Umar Ho Itni Sanam

Tere Naam Se Shuru, Tere Naam Pe Khatam

Teri Khushi Se Hai, Khushi, Tere Gham Se Hai Gham,

Tere Naam Se Shuru, Tere Naam Pe Khatam

Mere Pyaar Ki…Mere need…’ 

He would have continued but the raucous laughter of a cousin stopped him midway.

‘You really can’t sing, Bhaiyya!’ He saw others were also either laughing or trying to contain their laughter. What irked him most was the shaking shoulders of his bride! He stormed from the room and did not come to his bride at all until late into the night when it was his wedding night and his mother sent for him.

His heart fluttered wildly as he closed the door to the nosy cousins after fattening their purses.

Walking to the bed where she sat with her head covered, he came to her and sat next to her on the bed. 

She put away her veil, feeling him next to her. 

Wasn’t that his task? In movies...never mind.

Extracting a gift out of his pocket, he gave it to her.

'What is this?” She asked opening the lid of the tiny velvet box.

It was a gold nose pin.

‘Oh nice,’ she said and kept it away.

Keshav wanted to say that it was only this he could afford now. In the future, he will fill her with gold and diamonds. But his better sense refused to apologize and add any of his innermost thoughts.

‘Your milk is there,’ she said, yanking him out of his inner musings. ‘They said you have to drink it.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘Can I go to sleep?’ She asked, her large eyes fixed on him.

‘Huh? Ye...s,’ he was at a loss of words. ‘Yes. Go to sleep. You must want to change. Yes, do whatever you want. Make yourself comfortable.’

She laid next to him, shooting his heart rate and hormone level. She tossed and turned, her legs accidentally or deliberately touching his. He had no idea. It was his first time with a woman. His insides churned with a deep ache he had never known before.

‘Bohat macchad hai,’ she said at last. ‘And it is too hot!’

Yes, it was too hot, he agreed. 

When he returned to the bed after turning the regulator of the fan, he said to her, ‘I would have gotten a table fan from outside, but if I go now, they will tease us.’

‘Yes, they will.’

It was one long night for him. Sleep came at only early hours. Even then it was disturbed by the tinkling of her anklets. 

He opened his eyes to see her move about the room, the long mane of her hair, wet and covering her back. He laid there feasting on her sight as long as she did not notice him.

When she turned his way, he pretended to yawn and act nonchalant. 

`You are awake?’ She stepped towards him and then halted midway, a frown marring her fair forehead.

‘What is it?’

‘I...I am used to bed tea. If I don’t get tea in the morning, my head starts aching real bad.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Let me ask one of the girls to make tea for you.’

When he stepped out, he found most of the inhabitants of the house asleep. The ones who were up were busy preparing for the upcoming Puja. 

That was the first tea he had made for his wife and she had no idea about it.

Karuna left the home to the newlyweds for two weeks to give them time to mingle. 

Urmila thought it would have been better if she had gifted them Switzerland tickets. Shimla at least!

In those two weeks, Keshav did everything possible in his capacity to woo his woman. 

He took out Urmila for dinner in three-star hotels. They went to watch Bollywood movies in the halls. He brought her jasmine garlands. They walked along the beaches. As he had dreamt, they also watched the falling of rains together. 

She was a beautiful woman and Keshav was falling for her hard and fast. 

Her own heart, he had no way to look into it. 

She was slow in opening up at first but now was no more reticent in expressing her views.

He only hoped she would love him. 

Karuna returned too soon. 

Keshav’s work started too early. 

He hadn’t even seen her properly.

He bade goodbye to his lovely wife as he left for work, his finger twining around one of her luscious curls ‘Be ready in the evening. We will go to a park.’

She smiled, her gaze hidden under her long lashes.

It was a month after their marriage that on a rainy night, in the darkness of the room, they scooted closer, seeking out each other, their hands divesting them of their clothes.

As he looked at her face washed in the moonlight and his lovemaking efforts, he recalled a Hindi poem he had read in his school days. A child keeps pestering his mother with a question. What will happen next, Mother? What will happen next? The mother engages him with various stories, one about him growing up and getting married.

For him, the poem had become a prophecy.

Brighter than the sun, fairer than the moon, softer than a flower bud...a bride will come to your house after marriage.

He took her once again in his arms and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She was equally fervent in responding to the kisses, getting on top of him.

‘I love you, Urmi. I love you,’ he uttered as she moved above and into him.

She hadn’t responded. He hadn’t noticed. Together they had slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

The next day as she was leaving to answer his mother’s call, he had caught the end of her long ponytail.

‘Be ready. A new picture is out. Dil Hai Ki Manta Nahi.’

‘Will you take me to a five-star hotel today? And will you get me what I want you to?’

‘Anything love. Anything.’ He would even bring her a piece of the moon if she wanted one.

She graced him with a full-fledged smile, making his heart skip several beats.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5txaRiJfQXM

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