Chapter 39
Nerves, terror, homesickness for her mother, the loss of a simple life where she had been free to run around as she pleased, fear for the unknown liberties, uncertainty of her groom's intentions; a whole host of feelings, most of it negative, had found root in her body. They formed a hard knot deep in the pit of her stomach and from there emanated in waves through her veins, rendering her pale and extremely fragile.
She was controlling her emotions; barely. Having hardly slept, she was up and standing by the window in her room, looking out with her hands fisted in her yellow sari and barely heard the commotion outside her door when Garima arrived. When her mother opened the door of her room and walked in, Khushi whirled, panicked.
Her pale features and agitated behavior told their own story clearly and Garima cast Khushi a worried look. Khushi didn't look as if she would be able to bear the strain of supposedly the most hectic day in a girl's life and deal with her own fears as well. Garima wondered if she should address the issue or simply ignore it in the hopes that Khushi might take her lead and concentrate on one issue at a time. But even if she would have wanted to talk with Khushi, there was no time. The simple reason was that Khushi was a royal bride. There were many rituals and procedures in her day. She had been apprised of them in advance, Garima as well but even the older lady underestimated the rush.
Garima had barely stepped in the room when Khushi's chief attendant, Charu entered after a discreet, perfunctory knock.
"Garimaji, the arrangements for Bibi ji's bath are ready. If she will just come this way ..."
Charu's voice trailed off expectantly. Garima nodded and Charu left to bring the items needed while Garima led Khushi in the large room appointed for her preparations where a large bath tub stood ready, empty for Khushi to step in so the haldi could be washed off.
"Anu, we need to remove your sari, bitiya."
Khushi nodded silently and reached up to remove the pins holding it up. Garima helped her quickly and within moments, she stood in her undergarments when the already fraught day just got worse for Khushi.
The only warning she received was a slight gasp which made both Khushi and Garima look up. In their preoccupation, they had left the door ajar.
Charu stood just behind Garima with a bundle of neatly folded towels in her hand, her eyes on Khushi's exposed body. In the early morning light, the marks on her body were highly visible while a thin bandage covered the deeper one on her thigh.
Garima could have hit herself at that moment. She quickly stood in front of Khusi and took the discarded sari to hold it up. If possible Khushi paled even more. With shaking hands she took the sari and attempted to cover herself when two other attendants came in the room. Both Garima and her hands fumbled but at that moment Charu whirled around.
"Where were all of you? Bibiji had to disrobe on her own. You ladies cannot manage even a single thing on your own! Now don't stare at me! Hurry up and check the bath water, check on the bath and pooja flowers, check on Bibiji's clothes! Leave the pastes here! I cannot rely on a single one of you. Hence, I myself will bath and prepare Bibiji! Useless girls, all of you!!!"
Her angry tirade had not even finished when the attendants hurriedly placed the pastes and other items on a table and hurried out to do her bidding. In her early forties, Charu held a lot of clout in Devgarh Palace. She had worked there all her life while her husband was Maan Singh, the Maharaja's stable and estate manager. She was a no-nonsense practical woman and while her husband had not broken the Maharaja's confidence, she heard certain things. She was also the one who, after the Maharaja's marriage, would be in-charge of their personal apartments and be the new Maharani's chief maid and companion. She took her duties towards her new Maharani seriously.
She shooed the others away and turning to Khushi, said,
"Bibiji, hurry up and disrobe. I need to wash off the haldi and apply mud paste to cleanse your body. Then it will be time for the others to fill the bathtub. We don't have much time."
Not by a single word or gesture did she betray anything. Garima took her lead and quickly assisted the silent Khushi. Within moments, Khushi stood in the tub. Charu poured water on her head and used a slightly rough cloth to wash off the haldi.
Once the haldi washed sufficiently off, she applied a thick layer of mud mixed with herbs all over her body. The paste covered her all over. In that time, she bade the girls bring in more water. The paste dried off and once again, Charu and Garima washed it all off, washed Khushi's hair and wrapped her in a towel while once again the bathwater was exchanged. However, this time they added oils and flower petals in the water.
Once again, Charu chased the others away with a long list of errands while she helped Khushi to bathe in the clean, fragrant water. After washing her all over, Garima and Charu allowed Khushi to relax in the water while they saw to other things. Surprisingly enough, Khushi's earlier melancholy had washed away to some extent. Her body tingled pleasantly while the bath water relaxed her limbs. Out of all the things she had experienced since giving up her gypsy lifestyle, a bath was right at the top of her list. She adored baths, absolutely and completely. For the moment, she was content to splash in the water, swirling the rose petals. Not even the Maharaja could spoil the experience of this wonderful bath for her!
After a decent interval, Charu helped her out and dried her off with a huge towel, wrapped her hair in another one and led her in the adjacent chamber where a long table rested. She had Khushi lie there and massaged rose oil all over her body while her hair was allowed to dry off on its own.
Massaged and perfumed, Charu slipped a robe over her body and finally allowed her to rest. The whole process had taken a few hours and till now Khushi had not eaten. A tray was brought in and once again the other attendants were kicked out to dispose the bath water and tidy the chamber. In this interval the wedding outfit and other items arrived from Devgarh, were blessed and handed to Shashi Gupta in the mandir and he and other servants delivered it to the cottage. Garima received the various packages and the attendants carried it in the chamber for her, laying them out.
Till then Charu had force-fed Khushi a few bites of kheer and puri and half a glass of milk. It was time for the bride to dress. Here again the other attendants were scolded for some reason or the other while Garima helped Khushi in her undergarments and red, gold encrusted lehenga and three quarter length sleeved choli. Once she was covered, the other attendants were allowed in.
Under Charu's eagle eye, they dressed her slightly below shoulder-length hair in a bun with flowers entwined in the curls. The process sped up and Khushi had no time to brood, what with a veritable army of ladies, all who were engrossed in pushing pins in her hair, arranging her bangles, applying kajal and other items. Added to that Charu's dissatisfaction. She had the attendants change her hair twice before she was satisfied with the result. Once her hair and face were done, she personally brought the jewelry boxes for Garima to out them on.
Around her neck went the triple layered Rani haar of gold, diamonds and rubies. The first layer rested below her collarbone, the second one on her chest while the third one reached slightly lower than that. Heavy earrings accompanied them while the maang tika was in a class of its own. The heavy kangans mixed in with the red glass bangles on her delicate wrists while matching payals went around her ankles. Feeling weighed down already, Khushi eyed the heavily decorated dupatta with trepidation. It was red in color with designs of pure gold thread. Her outfit was an ancestral one passed down through the generations. All Maharani's of Devgarh wore it for their wedding and passed them on to their daughter-in-laws afterwards.
She watched wide-eyed as Charu whisked the dupatta off the bed. She tucked it on her waist and then brought it around her back to hand down one shoulder. Charu brought the folds of the dupatta over her face as her ghoonghat so that it covered her face. For the moment, she swept it back so Khushi's face was visible. The last touch was the diamond and ruby encrusted waist belt. Charu slipped and secured it around her waist, covering the hanging end of the dupatta as well.
Finally, they stepped back to survey their handiwork. To say that Khushi looked beautiful was an understatement. She looked completely out of this world. The heavy clothes and jewelry would have overwhelmed any other girl's looks but Khushi was too beautiful for that. Hence, the clothes and jewelry elevated her looks. Adding to her natural beauty were her very evident shyness and nervousness, for it was, after al, these very emotions that completed a bride.
"Bibiji, now you can rest for some time while we prepare for the pooja." One by one all attendants filed out, leaving Garima and Charu. Khushi took this moment to thank Charu sincerely.
"Shukriya Charuji."
"Charuji nahi Bibiji, only Charu. And there is no need for you to thank me. It is my duty."
"Nevertheless, I sincerely thank you for your help."
"It's all right Bibiji. Now please rest for sometime. You still have a very long day to go through."
They left Khushi behind. She took a deep breath and sat down on a chaise lounge. All her earlier feelings came back. She twisted her hands together, telling herself to calm down. The minutes from then on until the pooja were like hours, each one of them. She desperately prayed in that short time and when the door opened to admit Garima who came to escort her for the pooja, Khushi looked up thankfully, glad to be amongst people. They helped to ground her behavior.
Charu led the pooja in the small cottage mandir. All her attendants attended and none there prayed as fervently as Khushi did. She folded her hands and devoutly begged Devi Maiya to look out for her, to get her through the day, to guide her for all eternity. The pooja ended and after aarti and prasad, Charu gave Garima a few moments to kiss Khushi before she gently pulled her ghoonghat down to slightly below her chin, hiding her face. Now this ghoonghat would only lift once she was married and safely in Devgarh Palace.
It was nearly 2 o'clock then and Garima had to leave; she had certain duties to fulfill when the groom arrived. The auspicious time set for the wedding was 3 o'clock. A short wait ensued during which an attendant fetched a glass of juice for Khushi. The poor girl had to manage a few sips from behind the ghoonghat, no mean feat by itself. Then the time to go arrived. Her attendants took each corner of a beautiful red fabric to provide an aanchal for her to walk under. Workers had laid flowers on the path from the cottage door to the mandir entrance.
Flanked by her attendants with Charu by her side, her arm around Khushi's shoulders to guide her, Khushi stepped on the flowers and walked towards the mandir in all her bridal glory...
The day in Devgarh Palace started out with pandemonium. There were a hundred and one details to see to and Devyani and Mamta were extremely busy personally overseeing each one. For them the wedding was tantamount to rewriting history. Meanwhile, Anjali, Arnav and Prithvi were in the opulent Maharaja's chambers, in the dressing room designated for Arnav. His wedding outfit, a red and gold silk sherwani edged in heavy brocade was set out in readiness. His valet and a pair of footmen were standing in readiness, ready to bring anything they might possibly demand. He had already been through the ritual bath, massage routine and eaten some food, and was in the process of dressing.
For Anjali, it was pure chaos as she had to coax, cajole and blackmail her brother for every little thing and she was almost ready to box his ears. Adding to this torture was Prithvi Singh Pratap. Dressed in a dark grey and blue jodhpuri, Prithvi was supposed to assist Arnav with his dressing but it was not happening. At every moment, Arnav refused to do something and instead of reasoning, Prithvi went along with him. This set Anjali's teeth on edge.
Anjali's usual habit of politely ignoring Prithvi was taking a beating and she was so angry; she was even talking to Prithvi. Or rather, she was scolding him at every turn. Prithvi's condition was no better. Almost against his will and definitely his mind, a little imp inside him seemed hell bent on aggravating and contradicting his lovely wife instead of treating her with the gentle courtesy he normally employed. Dressed in a royal blue sari, she was a lovely sight indeed, especially with her cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes shooting sparks.
As for Arnav, the groom himself, he was morose and taciturn. Added to that, the constant bickering between Di and Prithvi was not helping his mood. To be very honest with himself, he was nervous. He had absolutely no idea how to approach his marriage. Getting through the ceremony was one thing but what about this night and now onwards when she would share this chamber with him? How would he deal with Khushi? The memory of her flinching from him in the mandir and the message it conveyed was all too raw in his mind. If she was scared of him, then what might she be expecting from him after marriage, as his wife? Moreover, what about him? Now that he had some idea of how she viewed him, then how was he supposed to behave with her? He had absolutely no idea what interpretation she might place on any action of his! The thought in itself was daunting. Maybe he should wait and see what she did; take his lead from her so to speak of. Yes, Arnav decided. That would be a good idea. That would prevent him from crowding her space. To start with, he would adopt that strategy and then see where it led.
Almost absent-mindedly Arnav allowed his valet to slip on the sherwani and button it while he pulled at the sleeves. God he hated traditional wear, he really did but he had promised Di on his sagai that he would humour her during the wedding. When the valet reached up to brush his hair, Arnav glared at him and taking the brush, combed his hair himself. He tossed the brush aside and turned expectantly to Anjali. His eyes widened at the sight of the jewelry box a footman was holding for Prithvi to take. The box in question contained a three-layered moti-mala (pearl necklace) with a golden clasp. He backed off a step, shaking his head.
"No way Di. I don't have to wear that!"
"Yes, you do. You promised me."
"Promised?" Arnav's eyes narrowed in recollection. "No Di. I distinctly remember promising you about the sherwani, not this over the top jewelry!"
"Over the top! I'll have you know Chhote, this is a family heirloom. Before you, generations of men have worn this without any complaints."
"Oh come on Di! Jijaji, explain to her, will you?" Arnav entreated Prithvi who promptly spoke up in support.
"He is right Anjali. It is slightly over the top. You have to understand. Times have changed and Sale Saheb is a modern man."
That did it. Anjali blew her top! Prithvi always called her Rani Saheba but today, for the first time, he called her Anjali. She recalled his cheeky comment of up close and personal' and saw red and went for them.
"You please don't encourage him and his funny ideas. Modern man indeed! A wedding is a traditional affair. He is balking at a simple haar! Imagine what his poor bride must be going through, wearing all those heavy family heirlooms and the ancestral outfit. Add the ghoonghat to that as well. She must be near suffocating! And here is my brother; a pearl necklace is over the top! And you (she turned to Prithvi) are supposed to be ensuring he is dressed appropriately and not going along with his strange ideas! Well, do whatever the two of you wish to. I will not say anything. However, believe me, I will be the first one to comment when I see his beautiful bride and with him looking like a hooligan! Over the top indeed!
His mouth twisting ruefully, Arnav murmured,
"Di, no heirloom can make me match up to my bride, you know."
Anjali gaped at her brother. And really say him for the first time that day; at the lean body held too tightly, at the slight weariness on his face. He was feeling the strain of the day and Anjali's anger evaporated.
"Oh Chhote!" She slid her hand along his jaw in sympathy but Arnav, uncomfortable with the moment, quickly brushed a kiss on her hand and stepped back.
"I'm ok Di. Truly. But tell me; is this how the pair of you fight at your home? Do you bully jijaji just like you bully me?"
Anjali practically froze. Her hand stayed in mid-air while her smile remained exactly like it was on her face while her breath hitched. Arnav turned towards the jewelry box, hence missed her reaction. For a whole minute, Anjali remained that way, only her mind worked. Her brother had no idea! In Surjangarh, she and Prithvi were strangers. Days and months passed where they exchanged no more than greetings. She would give her right arm to share this easy rapport with her husband but Anjali had given up wishing for the impossible.
Behind her Prithvi was busy cursing himself. Once, early on in their marriage, Anjali had been like this with him; joking and playful. But then he had not been interested. Neither in her and nor in the easy camaraderie that would have built up between them. Like a fool, not realizing the worth of the lovely woman in front of him, he had rebuffed her attempts. These rebuffs had culminated in a final showdown between them. He had said and done things he shouldn't have. The result was in front of him; his lovely trophy wife who actually crossed the halls of Surjangarh to avoid him if she saw him coming from the other side. The old saying of be careful what you wish for had come true with a vengeance. He had entered his marriage with the intention of having a trophy wife; one who ran his house and graced his arm while being emotionally detached. His wish came true. Funny how he wished for just the opposite!
"Di?" Arnav called his sister. He was still studying the haar but turned around when he didn't receive any response to see Anjali standing in the exact position he had left her in.
"Di?" Arnav came back to Anjali, worried. "Di, are you all right?"
"Hmmm..." Anjali pulled herself back. She pasted a smile on her face and looked at her anxious brother.
"Hum theek hai Chhote. I was just lost in memories of home, that's all."
"Are you sure Di?"
"Of course Baba. Now be a good boy Chhote and wear the haar, please. For me!"
Arnav nodded slowly. Prithvi hurriedly motioned the footman forward and removed the necklace to hand over to Anjali while Arnav sat on a chair. Anjali lovingly slid the necklace on and fixed the clasp. Her eyes met Prithvi's from behind Arnav's chair, the expression in them sad. She was stunned to see a matching sad and wistful one in his eyes. She stared in surprise. Prithvi smiled gently and it jolted her. She quickly looked down and stepped away, asking for the shoes.
The footman brought cream colored shoes and slipped them on. Now came the royal blue intricately bound turban set with a flawless ruby as it's centre stone. Once again, Prithvi handed it to her and Anjali placed it on her brother's head. He stood up and Prithvi took the gold sword belt and clasped it around Arnav's lean waist before handing his ceremonial sword. Arnav slid it in place and he was done save for the flowered sehra that rested on a tray. That would be tied on after the pooja.
Checking Arnav over critically, Anjali nodded in satisfaction. They went down to the mandir and Anjali and Prithvi led the pooja. At the conclusion, Arnav moved to take his Dadi's blessings.
"May Devi Maiya's blessing be on you always Chhote."
He moved to his mother; the woman who had not spoken to him for more than two months. She blessed him wordlessly although her eyes spoke for her. She was telling him that she wanted the wedding ceremony over with and Khushi safely in Devgarh Palace. She wanted to talk to her son; to call him Chhote, to hug him. Arnav understood.
Anjali tied the sehra in place and the groom's party left for the mandir with Arnav riding on the customary pure white mare amongst music and fanfare. All the servants had gathered to see him off. His relatives followed behind him to the mandir
As arranged, the bride had arrived in the mandir and was in a downstairs chamber, waiting for the pundit to call her. With much fanfare, the groom's party arrived. They were received at the top of the stairs by Shashi and Garima and their party. Some of Shashi's close friends and their wives and of course Thakur Alok were in the receiving party.
The receiving over, the bride's and groom's side met and greeted each other, the pundit led Arnav over to the mandap. But before he stepped to his seat, Thakur Alok came up for the viewing. Since the bride had no brothers, it fell to the next closest male from her side, which in this case was Thakur Alok. The viewing ceremony was an old one. From the old times, it was considered in the best for a close relative to see and verify the identity of the bride and groom. Since the couple wore a sehra and ghoonghat, the threat of an imposter marrying a royal male or female was ever-present, especially given the old days royal intrigues. The sehra and ghoonghat could not be lifted until after the wedding for the groom and until her suhaagraat for the bride, hence the viewing.
Thakur Alok lifted Arnav's shera slightly and his ever twinkling hazel eyes met Arnav's impatient chocolate ones. Thakur Alok winked at Arnav before lowering the sehra. He turned to the bride's family and gave his verdict.
"It is indeed the Maharaja of Devgarh, Arnav Singh Raizada." There was general laughter all around and Arnav was allowed to step in the mandap, Prithvi helping him with his sword. Now the pundit called for the bride.
Walking under the same aanchal Khushi came up the mandir steps. Shashi and Garima hurried over to her where Charu handed her charge over. They led her to the mandap. Anjali came for the viewing and lifted the heavy ghoonghat. Her smiling eyes met Khushi's terrified hazel ones. Anjali smiled; Khushi looked much more beautiful than she had thought and she pressed Khushi's tightly held hands reassuringly. Khushi took heart from the affectionate gesture.
She lowered the ghoonghat and her soft voice could be heard. "It is indeed Khushi."
Khushi stepped in the mandap and Anjali and Garima helped her to settle. Te wedding ceremony commenced. The pundit started chanting.
Behind her ghoonghat Khushi breathed deeply, telling herself to calm her nerves; not to fail. She had taken a decision. Now whatever happened, she had faith in Devi Maiya and her own strength. She was a gypsy; born in hardship, brought up close to nature. She had lived amongst animosity all her life. At least after marriage, she was assured of her new family's love and support. She made her peace with her circumstances.
Khushi calmed down. The only obstacle came when it was time for the kanyadaan. Her hand faltered slightly but no one noticed for in the next instant her father took her hand gave an affectionate squeeze before placing it in Arnav's who clasped it gently.
The ceremony took almost three hours. All the while Anjali and Prithvi were around to assist them. Finally it was over. Arnav breathed in relief while Khushi was wishing with all her heart for the whole process to finish. Her heavy clothes, jewelry and ghoonghat were slowly killing her but she was holding up beautifully. They took blessings from the pundit and then their respective families. Arnav's hand came under her elbow to guide her. Khushi trembled at the contact but then was glad of the help for maneuvering on her own was difficult.
The blessings over, it was time for the bride to leave. Her adopted parents kept it short and simple. Both hugged her, telling her that she was a blessing in their lives. Khushi cried and hugged them but followed their lead. Shashi and Garima walked her to the beautiful palanquin standing at the foot of the mandir steps and Anjali helped her to climb in and settle. Arnav got on his mare and the groom's party assembled behind the palanquin.
The palanquin was lifted and the bride was off to her new home. The musicians started the music. In the short distance between the mandir and the palace, people had gathered to cheer and throw flowers and call out greetings. Arnav smiled back at the people as was his duty while inside the palanquin Khushi only heard voices, courtesy of her ghoonghat!
The Maharaja had just restored the honour of the gypsy girl he had trampled on. The outside was smoothed. It was the inner side that remained to be seen; how would they live together???
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