Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
SHIVINA
“ W alk slowly,” whispered Rani Sa. “My nephews will hold a floral chaadar over your head. Make sure you stay under it at all times.”
The ornately decorated wedding mandap was set up in the centre of the huge inner courtyard of the palace. The music switched to a soft bridal track as I walked into the courtyard, and when the priests began chanting stotras loudly as my entourage led me to the mandap, I wanted to weep because I felt like a fraud.
The wedding guests milled around happily, unaware of the terrible trick being played on the bridegroom. Some of Kavya Baisa’s cousins rushed over to us, cooing over the gorgeous wedding joda, but Rani Sa firmly and politely sent them off on various tasks before they could raise my veil.
I clasped the wedding garland so hard that some of the petals fell off. I watched them float to the ground from under the veil, praying at every step for someone to stop me. Where the hell was the bride? Did she know that another woman was taking her place, even temporarily?
Rani Sa took my arm and led me up the steps to the mandap, with Diggi Mausi holding up the skirts of my red lehenga.
“Keep your head down,” Rani Sa reminded me, and I nodded in reply.
They had wound the ends of the dupatta around my forearms so that my bare arms were hidden from the crowd. But I had a feeling discovery was imminent because Kavya Baisa’s friends were sure to notice I had no mehendi on my palms. After all, Baisa had taken so many pictures with her elaborate bridal mehendi.
The atmosphere in the mandap was very grave and formal. The head priest had requested both the bride and groom to keep their feet on the ground during the Jai Mala so there was none of the usual madness where the groom’s friends lifted him in the air to dodge the bride’s garland, and her friends responded by lifting her even higher.
I couldn’t see what I was doing anyway because of the thick veil. I just raised my garland in his direction, and His Highness must have bent his head because it fell around his neck like it was supposed to. My fingers skimmed the back of his neck as I placed the garland, and I almost called it off right then because it felt far too real all of a sudden. This was a real man with real hopes for his marriage, and I was helping to cheat him horribly.
I wanted to throw off my veil and denounce them all, but it was too late for that. I was an equal party to the deception now, and I just had to go along with it.
He placed his garland around my neck, and it felt like a noose tightening in place slowly. There was no backing out now. I began to hyperventilate under the veil and wished I could push it back a little, but even as I raised my hands, Rani Sa pushed them back down gently. I remembered that I had to keep my hands out of sight, even if I suffocated to death under the veil.
“Is Kavya able to breathe under the veil?” asked someone in concern. “Can she push it back a little?”
I recognised the voice to be that of the Yuvarani of Jadhwal.
Why was she being so kind? Her kindness could ruin everything!
“She’s fine, beta. Kavya would prefer to keep the veil on until the mooh-dikhai. It’s a family tradition of ours, and my daughter is nothing if not traditional,” replied Rani Sa firmly.
I wondered how she and Raja Sa could be so coldbloodedly calm right now. Their daughter was still not home! Was she even okay? I knew they were getting regular updates from the people who had gone to pick Baisa up from the desert. Still, weren’t they worried about her? Or was putting up a show in front of their guests more important than their daughter’s safety?
I sat down on the gaddi next to His Highness as the priests chanted their stotras loudly, wondering how he’d react if he found out it was I under this veil instead of the woman he wanted to marry. What a lovely way to repay his kindness, I thought bitterly. And yet, under all the self-recrimination, a part of me wondered if this was how it felt when your dreams came true.
I finally understood why they said to be careful what you wish for, lest it actually come true. I might have fallen for His Highness the minute I set eyes on him, but I had buried those feelings deep down and out of sight. So, how did the universe smoke them out? And was it such a crime to have feelings for a man who was so out of your reach? Did the universe have to punish me for it by making my most secret dream come true in such a terrible, twisted way?
Rani Sa reached between us to tie the end of my dupatta to his shawl, and my heart skipped a beat. Why did it feel like she was tying my destiny to his?
It’s not real. It’s not real … I chanted to myself. But this fake marriage felt all too real.
How often did a woman find herself married to the man of her dreams? The tragic part was that he would never know it was me he had married, even for a few minutes. Strange hands grabbed mine and helped me rise for the pheras, and I resisted the urge to run out of the mandap, screaming at the top of my voice. Life would never be the same. At the end of these seven turns around the agni, I would be His Highness’s wife in the eyes of God. His Maharani. Whether he recognised it or not.
What future did I have after that? Sure, I had the money to give my sister a good schooling. But what about me? Was I supposed to shed this secret along with the wedding joda? Would I stop being married to him just because he took another woman home?
My feet froze as the enormity of this deception and its consequences struck me. If His Highness took Kavya Baisa home and went through with the registered court procedure as planned, he would be committing bigamy. And if, at some point in the future, I found another man to spend my life with, how could I explain to him that I was already married to a man who knew nothing about it?
Ohmigod! Any children he had with Baisa after this would be illegitimate! I had to find a way to stop this wedding!
But His Highness began walking around the agni, and I was forced to follow, each step weaving an intricate web of lies from which there was no escape.
At no point during this farce of a wedding had my bridegroom said a word to me. He hadn’t even held my hand. Which was a blessing, I told myself. So why did it feel like a curse? I was marrying the man of my dreams, even if it was only temporary. But I had no chance to make any memories to sustain me through the lonely nights ahead. I might as well have been a betel nut kept in Kavya Baisa’s seat on the gaddi, I thought as hysterical laughter welled up in my throat.
I pushed it down and took a deep breath. This veil felt even more suffocating than the full-body PPE we had worn during the pandemic.
All too soon, the pandit asked us to sit down again. It was done. I had married His Highness under false pretences. But my ordeal was far from over. Diggi Mausi came up to me under the guise of adjusting my lehenga.
“It’s over, beta. Baisa is back in the palace,” she whispered.
I sagged against the back of the gaddi and felt faint. All I had to do was to get off this mandap without anyone discovering the deception. But why the devil could she not have returned sooner? A loud wail made its way up my throat, and I stifled it as hard as I could, but a soft moan still escaped me.
“The joda is very heavy, Jamai Sa. I think the sooner we take Kavya Baisa to change into the bidaai outfit, the better it will be,” said Diggi Mausi loudly.
“Just a few minutes more,” replied the pandit. “Please lift her veil for the sindoor rasm.”
I put my hands up and helped Diggi Mausi lift the veil only a little.
“Push it back,” ordered His Highness gruffly, and a shiver ran up my spine at the sound of his voice.
Maybe somewhere in an alternate universe, he was lifting my veil with his own hands and anointing my forehead lovingly. But in this cursed life, he was content to believe Rani Sa and the priest when they said I couldn’t show my face until the mooh-dikhai ritual.
He slipped one hand under the veil as we held it up, and his fingers found my maang tikka. He sprinkled some sindoor along its edges and pulled his hand out. If he was so disinterested in his bride, why was he even getting married, I wondered. Which bridegroom behaved like this?
And would Kavya Baisa have put up with this level of indifference? Knowing her, she would have had a meltdown in front of all the wedding guests if he hadn’t at least pretended to be happy for the wedding pictures.
“Now, fasten the mangalsutra around the bride’s neck,” intoned the pandit.
It wasn’t an easy feat to fasten the little mangalsutra with the diamond pendant with the veil obscuring most of my face and neck, but His Highness did it with minimal hesitation.
“Oho! What kind of rivaaj is this, Pandit Ji?” complained someone I couldn’t recognise. “Please allow her to push the veil back a little. What if he can’t fasten the mangalsutra fully? It will mean bad luck for the rest of their lives if it falls off.”
“It’s done, Kaki Sa,” replied His Highness curtly.
In a way, I was glad he wasn’t going to my husband for long. A real wife would be really upset at his indifference. I mean, the man didn’t even try to peek under my veil!
But as soon as I dropped the veil back in place, I felt His Highness take my hand. I gasped in surprise at the sudden touch. Ohmigod! This felt worse than his indifference. This was affection meant for another woman. It made my stomach turn even as my pulse leapt in response to his touch.
Rani Sa coughed loudly, and His Highness dropped my hand as if scalded. There was laughter from the people around us, and I was thankful for the veil which hid my bright red face.
“Pandit Ji, can the bride change into her bidaai clothes now?” asked Rani Sa.
When the priest agreed, she helped me rise and led me out of the mandap. I felt a wrench as I left my husband behind, knowing I would never see him again.