How I was Taken on a Ride: My Brother's Wedding

A Story by Priya Rao

It was a simple, uncomplicated marriage ceremony. She walked to the mantap, with her friends and cousins giggling behind her. She met my brother's shy glance with a reassuring smile, with Oohs and Aahs from her future family (us). The priest requested my red faced brother to wash his sweaty hands because the rice grains were stuck to his hands when they had to be offered to the Agni Kunda. She was quite confident holding my brother’s unsteady hands in ‘public’. This was enough for us to tease him even more, so much so that uncle even suggested that she lead him around the fire, instead of him, only to get a silencing look from the groom’s father. Everybody commented on how ‘perfect’ the couple looked 'for each other' at the reception. Little did they know that this marriage was arranged via shaadi.com.

The desperate parents met on this website after searching through perhaps hundreds of profiles. The filtering was done through a fine sieve of looks, age, ‘family background’, occupation " both parents found ideal matches for their children. But only after the initial clarifications about their differing gotras, and after making sure that they were astrologically compatible, were they informed about each other's existence. I remember the look on his face when he was casually told about this particular girl who was to meet him the next day. It was a mix of annoyance, confusion and embarrassment. His reply was a non-committal "Hmph!" before turning back to the football match on TV. Later that night, my anxious brother woke me up from my sleep, saying "Priya, come with me when I meet her tomorrow, please?"

When I met her at a Dosa street stall in Gandhi Bazaar, the first word that came to my mind (about her) was 'loud'. She had no problems yelling our orders to the cook or show any hesitation in asking someone to move to sit on the footpath to eat the Benne masala dosas we ordered. Halfway through chewing the vanaspati-roasted dosa, (it was yuck, let me tell you) she told us her name, what she does, where she works, what she expects in life, her hobbies and the TV shows she watches on Amazon Prime. My brother did not even contribute to the conversation, let alone show any interest. I was struggling to make him talk, while trying to keep her interested with details of my life. He was busy nibbling his dosa, while she went back to the stall to order 3 cups of coffee. "You need to SPEAK to her," I hissed at him. He looked at me with a crooked smile, looked behind his back and said "If only she lets me!" Now it was my turn to nibble my dosa and look away.

She came back with three glass cups full of coffee on a plastic tray, holding it above her head, like an experienced server. "My mother runs a day-care for children who come back from school for a few hours until their parents pick them up; I do this all the time," she said to my brother’s look of appreciation and surprise. His reply was "Oh, I love kids!" I struggled to keep a straight face. When she bent down to serve him coffee, he looked up. Their eyes met and I swear they smiled. After this brief moment, my brother broke away from his shyness, spoke to her about his work, the shows he watches on Amazon Prime and what he wants in life. Turned out, both of them were football fans " their parents had matched them right.

After those Dosas, we headed to DVG Road to shop on the streets of Gandhi Bazaar. All along the way, they chatted while I was window shopping. The dark blue lehenga from Vittal's looked expensive, the tribal jewellery from Chandrika's Boutique didn’t suit my taste, but a pair of earrings on a street stall caught my eye. Seeing me drool over them my brother took out his wallet from his butt pocket. "Priya! It looks so pretty on you! Actually you know what?" she said, turning to the stall-walla, "Bhaiyya, idu eradu kodi," to buy one for herself. My brother insisted that he pay for both our earrings.

Two hours later, we were at the bus stop. While we waited for the 77B, their conversation ranged from how fit Cesc Fabregas is, to the perils of capitalism, to what songs they both liked to the software programs that they are familiar with (both of them are engineers); I was feeling left out. Questions like “Would such a meeting ever take place in my life?”, “Would Pappa ever allow such a date with some random guy he sees on a matrimonial website?”, “What if I fell in love?”, “Would Amma and Pappa agree to my love marriage?” and such passed my mind while I was answering a Buzzfeed quiz on my phone, pretending to be occupied. She leaned across my brother and asked "Priya will you eat golgappa with us?" I looked up from my phone at my brother who silently signaled me with his eyes to say no to that question. I asked them to go ahead as I had to ‘call someone’. I heard my brother laugh, a few minutes later, with his head tipped to a side ﹘ a giveaway my brother had when he laughed with people he liked. I smiled to myself, the first date was not so bad.

On the UberPool back home, my brother was texting someone furiously, sniggering and smirking. I looked away " he hadn't paid me any attention for being there for him. Not even a ‘thank you’. Once he found his voice with her, he forgot about me. Sensing my anger, he pulled a packet from his pocket and put it on my lap. "What's this?" I asked him looking at the packet. "You can wear it to the wedding, it's our thank-you gift for making today happen," he said with a shy smile. I was speechless. "I met her on a football fans group on FB. We hit off like a house on fire. Then she told her parents about me, and they found my parents on shaadi.com and blah blah blah and that’s how today happened." I was still speechless. "I’ve known her for quite some time now,” he said with a smile. I opened the packet, not knowing what to say. It was another pair of earrings.

Three months and two more dates later, when my brother was getting ready in the groom room, I showed him those two pairs of earrings. He selected the green one to match my saree and winked at me, before going out to his Kashi Yaatra. That wink meant that not all weddings were made on shaadi.com, some were made on ‘Football Lovers’.

© 2018 Priya Rao

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Oh gosh!! Now thia is called a "cheat date"......I must have to say..this is my ever best story I've been through in writerscafe!!
It made me burst out of laughter......like are you serious that it really happened?!
If it's yesss....you did witnessed a humorous love marriage!! Kichdi.....the movie like this😂😂😂😂😂
Thanks for sharing😊