Capítulo 4: The Bargain
It was the eve of the wedding and the Matriarch herself arrived to inspect the arrangements. It was unconventional and there were hushed whispers among her relatives about the lady in question. Shimonthini saw her with awe. She was dressed in a woven traditional saree, white in colour with a wide blue border with silver thread work. The blue border reflected the depth of her blue eyes while the white saree fell a few shades deeper than the complexion of her fair skin. Her hair which almost jet black held a bunch of greys in the front. On her forehead a round spot of sandal wood paste was hardly visible. To a passerby she would appear a European tourist that had out of whim adorned herself in a traditional attire. The precision with which she spoke the native tongue however made one sit up and acknowledge her long grown roots to the place. Every single word coming from her lips was absolutely perfect in diction. The perfection seemed almost feigned and practiced. It was as if Henry Higgins had himself taught her the nuances of the language. The woman awed Shimonthini with her poise and grace, a creature she could connect with beyond the false pleasantries of estrangement but she dare not go forth.
The Matriarch invited the elders into a separate room for a discussion that was not for all ears. Blood was pounding in Shimonthini's heart. Had treacherous Fate followed her here to deprive her of the slightest sense of fulfilment? An hour passed and the clock still went on ticking. By this time news had reached the would-be bride who had ventured out of her room out of curiosity. She came to stand a few feet from the door that housed the elders at arms length from her sister who stood with dread written over her face. Shimonthini's dread expressed itself through silence, through the furrow on her forehead that concealed a thousand thoughts. Shinjini, who had led a simplistic life with her parents had a simple way to express her dread: rage.
A murmur arose among the present guests, relations that were not so well meaning to the fortune of a near and dear one. Shinjini was almost in tears when her bubble of panic burst open and she blurted out her rage on the person standing closest to her. Shimonthini was surprised. In her bafflement she could not procure a proper response to the volley of abuses thrown upon her. She was called everything from a slut to a husband-eater by the girl who was a reflection of her youth. At times like this did Shimonthini thanked heavens for her escape from the pollution of the environment her sister was exposed to. Tears fogged her visions which was overtaken by an attack of memories, painful memories of a fire rising, a car crash, a mangled car and hopes of a life she had carefully carved out of her dreams. Was she the real reason that Rishi was dead and not his insistence on driving when inebriated? Doubts have a strange way of worming themselves in your psyche.
Shimonthini tried to respond but her tears seemed to do the talking. There indeed was a part of her that blamed her misfortune on herself. She was the evil-doer that had brought misery upon so many. Death, destruction, and so much were caused by her hand or in her presence. It was as if the divinities were pointing their fingers towards her cursing her with damnation. Shimonthini tried to look heavenwards in a pleading for mercy. What her eyes came across was an old torn out calendar showing the effigy of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and material bliss. She turned her head away for the picture looked straight upon her, the alien among all.
Shimonthini had never been a devout growing up. She was taught to worship but never to believe. That tendency to fall to her knees tended to leave her with the passing years till she finally found religion a few months back. That was when she urged her lover to become her husband. But her God was not here to redeem her now. Among all the pagan deities that adorned every inch of the house her Omniscient God seemed to be absent. It was perhaps a self exile similar to what she had put her through in intolerance to all the phony virtuousness.
Shinjini's outburst invited the pity of many. The audience was more interested in Shimonthini's past than in Shinjini's outburst. No one cared to verify if the accusations were true or even close to it. A widow was not welcome in a wedding and the stares which were so far questioning turned to Shimonthini with an unwelcoming coldness. All the while the younger sister's name calling took a vicious turn. It was the racket she caused more than the murmuring crowd that compelled the closed door to be opened. The Matriarch had come forward to observe the conduct of her future daughter-in law.
"What is the matter?" she spoke in her soprano voice.
Shinjini struggled hard to regain her composure before facing the woman in whose hands her immediate future may lie. Shinjini had her back towards the Matriarch but Shimonthini faced her head on. There was a little change in her composure on seeing the elderly woman save for the fact that she wiped the tears of her cheeks. The elderly woman seemed to measure her with her eyes, weighing the innocence of her tears in as much a detached gaze as with which she acknowledged the public accusations. Shinjini finally turned to face her future mother in law who had her sight fixed on the elder daughter. Shinjini cleared her throat deliberately, a crude gesture drawing the Matriarch's attention.
The Matriarch repeated in a softer voice, "Is there any problem?"
Shinjini raised her head high and denied that anything was wrong.
The Matriarch turned back to the elders. "So it remains as I said. I hope you will not be encumbered with the minor extension in the guest list or the slight delay of the ceremony to accommodate their arrival."
The parents of the bride tried their most placating tone to imply that their every wish would be fulfilled. Not before the words had fully registered amongst the crowd with Shinjini in the centre did the Matriarch make another request, which sounded more like an order.
"I believe this is your elder daughter Moni who had eloped in her youth." So saying, the Matriarch turned to her. Shimonthini as always kept her eyes focused on the speaker's mouth as had been taught to her to be appropriate in the finishing school in Shimla. The Matriarch turned back towards the parents and demanded one gift of dowry that had not been discussed. "Your eldest daughter shall be married to my eldest son before Shinjini is to marry the younger."
Everyone was put to silence. How could a mother make such a thoughtless decision of her son's life tying him off to a woman of such ill repute? The objection that Shimonthini thought of remained on her lips as her parents nodded in approval. "That is so kind of you Ginni Ma. All arrangements will be made. You are so gracious!" they droned.
Beside her, her sister bore a similar pained look. Shimonthini looked upwards again closing her eyes to focus on the Lord who was aloof to her misery. Had it been a question of her atonement she would have chosen hell over a marriage, so soon after Rishi passed away. But it remained a question about her sister who evidently wanted this relationship bad for her to break down in a room full of people. Shimonthini could not think ill of the sister who saw her as estranged. She bowed her head in front of the Matriarch on a conciliatory note.
As soon as the woman in question left the entire discussion seemed to shift towards her mental health. She was an eccentric woman, Shimonthini conceded. A woman chewing a beetle leaf came in front of the crowd with dissatisfaction written over her face. Shimonthini knew her too well. She was Aunt Rupa, wife of the famous Tapas Hazra and being such enjoyed the position of the final word in the family. It was perhaps distasteful for her that such a prime decision had been taken before her eyes without anyone seeking her opinion on the matter.
"What kind of parents are you?" she started to accuse her husband's cousin and his wife. "How can you send this girl to your daughter's marital home? You know full well what disastrous things she is capable of. If I were you I wouldn't even let her anywhere near the wedding ceremony. You will all suffer under the curse of Mother Goddess for bringing this evil among the midst of an auspicious function."
The other Hazra's all listened quietly to her accusations. Sipra's heart was pounding loudly, the blood rushing to her ears at these ominous words. Yes Shimonthini was her daughter but she was the daughter for whom all her hopes had been lost. Yes she was a material success but God knows how she had been able to send her all that money. She was never to be a social success. So what misfortune would befall them through this wedding that they were forced to consent to.
The beetle chewing woman spit red into a plastic cup that she held in one hand and continued. "There were so many ways you could have objected to that dazed woman's demand. Now think of Chini. What if this creature again runs away or behaves badly with the Mukherjees? Do you realize how adversely that would affect your daughter's life? They won't pardon this creature for being their blood like you did. They would punish your daughter for being the same blood as she."
"Stop it!"
The protest in a thick loud voice did not come from Shimonthini who had perhaps forgotten how to protest. This was purgatory for all the sins she had committed in her life and she was satisfied with that explanation. The fact that even the angels would be confounded when asked to enumerate her sins was a different matter. It was perhaps the sin of eve that manifested in her and which she tried to atone for.
The protest that came was spoken by the husband of the previous speaker. Tapas Hazra was far outside. He had gone to escort the Matriarch to her car. On his way back he had heard his wife's screaming. Had it been the reigning days he would have acted similarly. Better yet he would have told the Matriarch on her face what he thought of the proposal. Those super powers he had lost. He was now an ordinary human being and more so a relation of the bride. It had to be in his nature to be meek and humble and accommodating. Tapas always had a hard time explaining to his wife the change in their position. It was a long practised habit of having the last word, of making the final say, a habit hard to rid of.
"Put an end to this." Tapas repeated to his fuming red lipped wife. "Moni is as much our daughter as Chini is. You should be happy that our happiness is doubled. It has been so many years since the incident. Moni is matured now. She knows what should be and should not be done. And it is better this way. She will have our Chini to point out her mistakes as and when she makes them. They will help each other out." Then turning to his Chini and placing a hand over her head he continued, "Won't you be helping your stray sister into coming back to society?"
Shinjini nodded trying to reign in her anger. How was it that her unsocial estranged sister would get the opportunity to be the eldest daughter in law of the Mukherjee family? Yes she was a freak. Shinjini looked sideways to measure the happiness on her sister's face on receiving the great news. There was none. Within her heart she swore to ensure that Shimonthini would never get to enjoy the place that she deserved in her marital home because she wouldn't let her. Her resolve became more determined with the joy on her mother's face, evidently for her elder daughter.
The next day went in a flurry and evening arrived. Shinjini was all dressed and ready in her room. It was ultimately her day. She wore a fuchsia designer lehenga saree with a blue corset cut embroidered blouse. The entire embroidery was done with real silver zari work and was adorned with pearls. She paired the dress with a diamond necklace and chandelier earrings. To everyone who knew the whereabouts of the family's financial condition the jewellery seemed to be an imitation and the dress borrowed. Truth was that everything had been paid for in cash by the politician friends of the family who were already having a hard time hiding their bank accounts from the police.
In the adjoining room sat Shimonthini, dressed in her off white salwar kurta, surrounded by her mother's old fashioned gold jewellery, patting a traditional red benarasi sari with minimal zari work that she would soon have to put on. The door remained closed and she was alone. Though her hand caressed the silk saree her eyes remained on the heap of fabric in front of her feet. It was the wedding gown she had selected for her wedding a week back. Done in organza and lace and embroidered all over, the full sleeved wedding gown embodied all her evaporated dreams and ambitions. She still couldn't gather the courage to give it away. She still imagined herself walking down the aisle clad in that dress. A knock on the door brought her back to the now. She hurriedly picked up the white dress and stuffed it her old suitcase, where it originally belonged, with her old memories. She patted her face dry with her dupatta and went to open the door. It was her mother who stood there who was a bit alarmed at not finding her ready for the wedding.
"You are not ready for the wedding!" she exclaimed.
"No mother. I am not ready" Shimonthini repeated her meanings quite different.
"You are to be married first, you know?" her mother reminded her.
"Yes I was." Shimonthini sighed.
Her mother shook her head in frustration. At least her daughter was there for the wedding, this time around! "I am going to get you dressed. Will you allow me?" asked her mother timidly.
Shimonthini looked into her mother's eyes and saw love beaming there. In reality Shimonthini was not getting married. She was entering a contract the terms and conditions of which allowed her sister a happy life and it was enough for her.
As Sipra managed to draw the last line of sandalwood paste across her daughter's forehead she heard the procession approaching. The grooms had arrived and there would be mayhem outside. She would be soon called outside to inaugurate the grooms among their family. She hurriedly finished the last stroke and took one final look at her daughter. Her breath was stuck inside. The years may have done some damage but Shimonthini was a pretty woman and in the eyes of her mother a heavenly bride.
Soon voices were heard in the shrill tone that was recognizable as Aunt Rupa's. "Sipra, where are you? Your son to be is waiting on the door?"
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