Chapter 4

                                          Chapter - 4

Aryan squirmed as the bumpy roads twisted his insides uncomfortably. The site he was supposed to visit was situated somewhere near a famous temple in rural Bihar and would yield a fortune if his factory was set up there. It would not only give him easy access to raw material but also loyal labour. Unfortunately for him the "road" to fortune had too many potholes and his South Delhi bred body didn't really agree to it. 

If the bile raising up his throat was any indication.

Quickly checking the GPS to ensure he was on the right road, Aryan pulled over in desperate need for a break. He didn't want to puke his guts all over his baby - his car and he didn't want to do it while driving. 

He stepped out of the car, his lungs expanding and flourishing as the healthy oxygen filled them - a relief from the choking Delhi fumes. Shivering lightly as the cool air hit him, Aryan cursed his sister for the thin shirt. But he had to agree that they were a decent fit and he might actually wear them more if everything goes well.

Stretching one last time, Aryan got into the car and began his journey, blissfully unaware of the life altering experiences awaiting him.

The shirt and jeans would his life after all.

Temple premises, 2 hours later

"Excuse me, are you here for the deal ?" Aryan felt someone tap on his shoulder and ask. He turned around, taking notice of the man. He was clad in a sleeveless sweater on a white shirt paired with baggy trousers. Black rimmed glasses sat on his nose, the thick lenses making him look older than he probably was. 

"Yeah, I am." Aryan replied, "And you are ?"

"Pan-," the man stuttered, "I mean, Pandit, Vishal Pandit. I'll be assisting you with the handover of documents"

"Oh thank you. Can we go see it as soon as possible, I want to return home early" Aryan asked, the unknown surroundings suddenly seemed intimidating. He followed the man silently as the path narrowed with increasing tree cover.

"Excuse Me, how much time will it take ?"

"Don't worry saheb, there's a room nearby. It has some essentials and 2 minutes from there" the man replied, quickening his pace.

Aryan stared at the room that appeared outof nowhere after a short walk. It was a shed more than the room. He cursed his team for suggesting this place without a background check.

"Sir..!!" Pandit called out, "Come inside"

Aryan walked into the room only to be startled at its state of darkness. He turned back, looking for Pandit and probably, a switch.

"Pandit, where's the-" his words stopped, as he stared down the barrel of a pistol, Pandit's finger ready on the trigger.

"Wh-what a-are you doing ?" Aryan stammered walking backwards. The dark room was plunged into brightness as lights turned on. He continued his walk backwards, staring at an unmoving Pandit until a cold metal touched his back.

Turning around at lightening speed, Aryan found himself staring at another gun.

"Don't get confused Saheb" an unknown voice rang through the room and more people came into his vision. And more guns, all pointed at him.

"Who a-are you?" Aryan questioned, "A-are th-those guns?"

"No, these are flowers" Pandit sassed, "of course these are guns !!! Because, you saheb, are getting married"

"WHAT ??" he yelled, "Who gets married like this? I don't want to get married"

Aryan shrieked, and he hoped it was manly shriek, when a man suddenly twisted his arm and placed the gun on the side of his temple.

"Pakdau shaadi, bhai" the man with the gun against his head replied.

"Pakdau what??" Aryan screamed, "What madness is this ? Let me go, you don't know who I am. I can destroy all of you in seconds"

"Not at the end of this gun" the man threatened, cocking the pistol, "You are getting married and you are getting married now. Your life is going to change Mister. Your bride is an amazing woman"

"What bride and what the hell are-" Aryan's word turned into muffled sounds, his mouth being taped shut.

"Sorry, you are yelling too much" the man whispered, "Pandey, Sehra time. Close his face"

Aryan could only stare with protesting sounds as Pandit, no, Pandey, brought a pearl Sehra and placed it on his head partially obstructing view. But he knew from the thickness of the pearls, there's no way anyone would know he was behind them.

"No smart moves Saheb", Pandey warned, "You do one thing we don't like, you head goes "boom".

"Let's go" the man with the gun pulled him, "your bride's waiting". Aryan could only helplessly walk, men in guns walking behind him and in front of him. Aryan curse his mouth for telling all those 'no' s to his mother when she asked him to get married sweetly. All the karma was clearly biting him back in the ass and he could not even fathom the reactions of his family. What would they say ?? And the media ? They would clearly have a field day and goody two shoes billionaire getting married in a Pakdau shaadi .

Neither the men in guns, nor the man behind the Sehra noticed a camera following. The news of Aryan Singh Rathore travelling spread and the media wanted a piece. But a pakdau shaadi definitely would earn more demand that Aryan. Except no one knew that the groom was Aryan, except Aryan himself, with what, his mouth shut and all.

Aryan was seated in the Mandap, all guns pointed at him and the priest started chanting, now and then directing Aryan to follow his instructions. He robotically did whatever was told.

"Call the bride!!" the priest instructed and Aryan for the first time, experienced curiosity with the whole wedding. What was the woman like ? Was she being forced too ? Was she a part of this whole drama ? 

The mandap surroundings fell into silence as soft footfalls accompanied by anklet sounds indicated the arrival of his bride. He looked up, diverting his gaze from the flames, his curiosity about the bride winning the best of him. 

And there she stood, clad in a maroon saree, with bare minimum jewellery. A long veil sat on her face, covering her face and completely obstructing his view. A garland in her delicate hands, Aryan noticed that her gait looked familiar. His gaze dropped downwards, eyes tracing thin waist band that sat on her waist.

"Snap out of it Aryan !!" his conscience chided and Aryan stood up mechanically, a garland thrust into his hands. His bride came to stand in front him and Aryan's eyes fell on the two peeking dots on her chin. Something in his memory moved and Aryan tried hard placing a face with chin tattoos. His eyes kep gazing at the tattoos as she garlanded him, heeding to the instructions.

The touch of cold metal on his lower back snapped Aryan out of his trance and he quickly garlanded her, both of them taking their seats next to each other. Her body heat engulfed him as she sat next him, their elbows touching every time they bent forward for a ritual.

"Make her wear the Mangal Sutra"  the priest said, handing him a black beaded necklace. No pomp, no dazzle. Just black beads. Aryan's hands shivered as he took hold of the beads, not knowing where the hell his life was going. He was getting married in jeans with guns to his head. He is yet to see the so called bride's face and the Mangal Sutra doesn't look like one. Aryan's brain went back to his sister's wedding and hours of shopping she did for the perfect Mangal Sutra. 

"Go on !!" the man with the gun grunted and Aryan quickly clasped the beads around her neck. 

Rituals followed and he was made to do other things, the toughest being putting Sindoor on her forehead, his already shivering hands finding it difficult to reach her hairline through the veil. Aryan's numbness vanished and panic finally settled it as both of them stood up for the phere . He knew what significance these steps held. Spiritually and legally. He cannot cry coercion too, pakdau shaadi s being a recognised form of weddings. He followed as the woman led and when it was his turn, Aryan wanted to run. He wanted to run throwing away the cloth around his neck. 

Unfortunately for him, he is yet to gain immunity to bullets. So, Aryan Singh Rathore became a wedded man as he completed the seventh round, without his family and without knowing who his bride was.

"Vivaah Sampann Hua" the priest announced as both of them took their places once again.  He saw Pandey give the priest some money, thanking him. As the priest walked away, completely overturning his life with Sanskrit words, Aryan tried observing his wife. For hints. Anything that would tell her that she was against this marriage but all he found was a stoic unmoving body, tied to him, literally and metaphorically.

"Let's go" Pandey led them back to where they came from, the dingy shed. To his surprise, this time the shed wasn't completely empty. It had a large table and chairs on either side. There were files placed on it. 

Aryan's eyes widened as he saw the bride carelessly throw away the garland around her neck, opening the gatbandhan with the cloth around his neck. And his eyeballs almost fell out when she threw her veil back. The officer from the lift stood in front of him, decked up like a bride and with signs of marriage.

"I marry virgin men at gun point"

Her words rang through his mind as he tried deciphering whatever just happened.

"Take his Sehra off. It's time he starts singing like canary. I have had enough of this screw up." she ordered before walking out through the door.

Aryan was pushed into a chair, his Sehra now on the floor. A man neared him and ripped off the tape on his mouth, making him scream in pain, his delicate beard bearing the brunt of this madness. He was about to lunge at the man when he heard the woman walk in, clad in uniform and her head bent into a filed. The stars on her shoulder shone under the light and Aryan waited for her to lift her head. He wanted her to show a sign of recognition and finally tell him why the hell he was here.

He saw her close her file and lift head up and for the first time all through the day, Aryan felt satisfied. Her eyes wide, both in shock and horror, he waited for the ball to drop. Her mouth opened and closed, and he knew she had nothing to say.

"PANDEY !!!!" he winced at her scream. He saw Pandey salute her, breathless from his run to her.

"What the hell is Aryan Singh Rathore doing here?" she yelled at him and he saw confusion dawn upon Pandey's face.

"But Madam" he stuttered, "He was the one in checkered shirt and jeans. Just like you told me" . Aryan gasped at the massive blunder that would've taken place. Komal and his sister's faces flashed in front of his eyes and their stupid shenanigans about his outfit. He cursed under his breath, wanting the thrash the life out of both of them.

"I know that" Imlie spoke, her voice cold intimidating, "But why would Aryan Singh Rathore smuggle guns to the extremists Pandey ?? What happened to that brain of yours, you idiot !! Be thankful the pandit was fake. Otherwise, I would have been married to Aryan Singh Rathore."

Aryan almost let out a relieved breath, until Pandey's next words robbed him of that opportunity.

"But madam, the pandit is a real pandit"

He saw Imlie's face turn red in anger and he cowered as her eyes shone with anger. By the time, all the men stood in front  her, confusion evident on their faces. 

"WHAT ??" she screamed, "The Pandit was supposed to be fake Pandey !!! What made you think I want to actually marry a criminal ??"

Aryan couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips. 'Twas a funny sight. All tall men towering over her, yet cowering in front of her. His giggles stopped before converting into laughter as her eyes snapped to his face. The frustration on her face pleased him and he wanted to irritate her further.

"You know, I thought you were joking in the lift that day." he sassed, "Bumble would have been a better option, honestly". 

Imlie took a threatening step towards him, her hand reaching the gun strapped to her waist when her phone went off, shrieking. Aryan saw the expression change on her face the man on the side spoke and he knew it was bad news. She ended the call and turned towards Pandey and his group once again, the vein on her forehead throbbing.

She whispered something in his ear and all five of them rushed out and five minutes and sounds of scuffle later, Aryan saw them drag in two people and a camera.

"Welcome to the party, gentlemen" Imlie spoke, pointing the gun at both of them, "You know, I am all for press freedom but nothing makes me want to empty the bullets in gun more than pesky journalists that leak clips. Now tell me, whose idea was it to publicise the clippings of this wedding and this room."

Aryan's eyes widened in horror for the nth time, realising that his family would have gotten the news already. 

Boy, did he have a storm waiting for him.