Chapter 24 #2
With loud direction from uncles and aunties, despite some of them having no idea where they’re going, the crowd churns and swarms into the garden, where the sun has guests using the programs that Simran painstakingly put together as flimsy fans.
There is an ornate bench swing, its wooden frame decorated with garlands of flowers.
Rishi and Geeta sit down on it for the oonjal.
“I’d like to petition to get one of these in the backyard of Iyer House,” Rishi says, looking past Geeta, as Simran and Kavitha gently push the back of the swing.
“Show some respect, Rishi! We’re helping you through the ups and downs of life. This is a symbolic swing,” Kavitha says.
“Yeah, and you can continue to help me through the ups and downs of life with an actual swing,” he replies.
“Hi!” Simran turns to find Kamal next to her. He was cute when they were growing up but he’s properly handsome with his now-clear skin and straight, stately nose.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she replies. “Can’t believe you came all the way from India!”
When he grins at her, he looks exactly like the boy she knew nearly two decades ago. She can’t help but grin back. “I didn’t. My parents are still in Chennai but Payal and I moved to the States a couple years ago.”
As the whole wedding party makes its way back into the hotel, guests sighing with relief the second the air-conditioning hits them, Kamal explains that he is an engineer living in Philly and his sister is in banking in Chicago.
Veena perima’s three requirements for a suitable groom come screaming back to Simran: someone who has a good job, is Tamil, and lives close by.
Somehow, the boy whom she had a crush on as a child has turned into her aunt’s dream man.
She pushes the thought away. She wants Geeta to be right, for this to just be a coincidence.
“It’s great to see you guys again,” Kamal says, their shoulders brushing as the crowd jostles its way inside. It feels a little like being in a mosh pit. “I was really excited when Veena mami invited me and Payal.”
“It is really nice that you both could make it,” she says, meaning it.
“It’s so rare, you know?” Kamal continues.
“To reconnect with people you knew as a kid—you and me, my sister and Kavitha. We’re linked in this special way.
Especially after all that’s happened.” The nostalgia is notched with hurt, but comfort as well.
It feels like a path for how she might be able to think of her childhood again, instead of how it ended.
He lightly nudges her. “After all, you never forget your first crush.”
Simran gives him a tight smile and ignores alarm bells sounding in her brain.
“Sure. Listen, I’ve got to go find Geeta and Kavitha.
Bye!” Finally, after all the guests have filed into the same hall that the sangeet was held in the night before, it’s almost time for the actual marriage ceremony.
Simran pokes her head in through a side door to get a peek of the setup.
Rishi is already inside with both sets of parents, standing on a large elevated stage at the front of the room under a canopy of champagne-colored chiffon and garlands of marigolds and red roses.
Front and center on the stage is the mandap, with a row of gold chairs on both ends for the siblings and immediate family members, and the rest of the guests are seated facing the stage.
Ducking back out to the hallway, Simran goes to her cousins, catching Kavi carefully looking at everyone walking in.
Rishi’s younger brother, Rahul, walks up to Kavitha and Simran, ready to escort the two of them down the aisle.
Simran feels someone tuck a wayward bobby pin more firmly into her hair, securing her gajra. “You smell incredible.” The words skim down her spine and she spins in surprise to find Leo behind her. “You should wear flowers in your hair every day.”
She smooths the skirt of her outfit to keep from slipping her hands around him. “Aren’t you supposed to be inside?”
Leo breaks into her favorite smile, one side lifting up before the other. “Well—”
“Well,” Geeta says, walking up to the two of them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. She and Leo share a conspiratorial smirk. “Rishi and I thought it might be nice if the two of you walked together.”
“But …” Simran looks from Leo to Geeta. “Isn’t this supposed to be for family only?”
“No, it’s supposed to be whoever Rishi and I want. Haven’t you noticed that he and Leo are obsessed with each other?”
Leo nods. “It’s true, Rishi’s the best.” Geeta clears her throat. “Second best.”
“Gits,” Simran says, voice thick. She swallows. “This is really nice of you.”
“I know,” Geeta says, squeezing her hand, and Simran laughs. “Now hurry up, it’s almost time to go in.”
Leo holds his elbow out to her, his hazel gaze as warm and solid as if he had a hand on the small of her back. “What do you say?”
Her bangles make tinny tinkles as she tucks her fingers into the crook of his arm. “I say—”
A side door to the main function hall bangs open. Veena perima hustles out, dragging Kamal behind her. She pulls him over to Geeta, Simran, and Leo, who quickly shuffle away from each other.
“Everyone is ready?” Her aunt’s eyes ping around the room, appraising everything she sees.
Geeta says, somewhat exasperated, “Yes, Amma. We’re all ready to walk in. Aren’t you supposed to be up on the mandap?”
“What ready, Geeta? This is no good,” Veena perima says, weaving her way in between them. Simran steels herself. Something is coming, she can feel it.
Kavitha clearly has the same thought because she steps forward, saying, “Amma, it’s all settled, what—”
“How can Rahul walk down with two people?” Veena perima asks. Behind her aunt, Leo extends his hand out to Kamal. “Hey, I’m Leo, I’m a friend of Rishi’s.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kamal. I was Simran’s neighbor in Chennai before she moved,” Kamal replies, shaking his hand. Simran sees understanding dawn on Leo’s face.
Geeta grits her teeth, still smiling, as she says, “Actually, like I told you before, we’re handling this part. Rishi and I figured out a solution so Rahul doesn’t have to walk with Simi and Kavi akka.”
“I also have figured out a solution,” Veena perima declares. “Kamal will walk with Simran!”
“Amma—”
But Veena’s already pulling Leo away and pushing Kamal into place. “See how nice you two look together?”
A rushing sound fills Simran’s ears and she finds herself not quite present, as if she stepped out of her body and is watching her aunt wreak havoc.
“Amma.” Geeta’s smile has dropped. “Rishi wants Leo, his friend, to walk in the wedding. He doesn’t even know Kamal!” She blinks before looking at him and says, “No offense.”
“Absolutely none taken. Veena mami, I don’t—” Kamal starts to say, but she cuts him off.
“Only family is supposed to walk down the aisle. Kamal is basically family, no? And one day, he might officially be family, nah?” She gives a Cheshire cat grin, mad with scheming.
Simran has been trying to avoid a fight with her aunt, but it’s found her anyway.
She opens her mouth to join the chorus of arguments as the wedding planner comes up to the group and tries to tell them, over the noise, that they’re behind schedule.
“All of you, stop doing dikhat!” Veena perima raises her voice and everyone shuts up. She pushes Kamal and Simran towards the doors so forcefully that he stumbles. “We’re already late, you don’t want to delay the wedding! Go in, go in!”
Simran heads into the hall, arm linked in Kamal’s.
The strip of carpet down the aisle is plush and laden with rose petals, each row of seats marked with glass globes of floating candles and marigolds.
But all Simran sees is a haze of red. She takes her assigned seat onstage, Kamal next to her.
When Leo slips in through a side door and takes a seat towards the front, she catches his eye and shoots him an apologetic look.
As everyone turns to watch as Geeta walks in, he smiles, waving his hand as if to say forget about it.
His easy forgiveness only makes her frustration more entrenched, but she tries to push it down for the sake of her cousin and this wedding.
Once Geeta has reached the mandap and the long set of rituals has started, Kamal leans in. “Listen, I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispers back. “There’s no stopping Veena perima once she gets an idea in her head.”
“It really is good to see you again,” Kamal replies. “I thought about reaching out when my parents bought the Chennai house so you could—”
“Wait,” Simran says, turning to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Of course, you left that house so many years ago,” Kamal says, not understanding. “But I promise, it is still the same as when your aunt sold it to my parents.”
An iciness fills her from head to toe. The home she grew up in, the last link to her parents’ brief time on this earth, the whole reason she came back to Iyer House, and it is no longer hers. Her aunt sold it without even talking to her, without even letting her know.
“When?” she asks.
Kamal blinks. “A couple of years ago. She—”
“And the things?”
His forehead creases. “Things?”
“All my parents’ things. They were packed up and stored inside the house,” she says, struggling to keep her voice even.
“There were no things there the last time I saw it,” he tells her.
Simran lets this information roll through her, muttering that they’ll talk later, using the excuse of watching the wedding.
She looks around the room, so different from the night before, floor-to-ceiling curtains pulled open so sunlight streams in from one side of the room.
Everything feels different from last night, from just a few minutes ago.
She watches the rows of people dressed in their richest colors and finest jewelry.
They lean over to whisper opinions to their seatmates.
Far in the back, a chubby baby runs in excited lurches, gurgling in delight as his father follows, stooped to catch him. None of it registers.
She tries some calming breaths, the closest to therapy she ever let Liv share with her, but her mind won’t stop spiraling, the next thought intruding before she’s even finished the previous.
The Chennai house, no longer hers. Her parents’ things, gone.
Who knows what her aunt did with them. Even Kamal sitting next to her feels like a taunt.
The last vestige of her parents’ lives no longer belongs to her.
She won’t get married in the house she grew up in and be able to create a new memory in it.
She’s going to be stuck, sad, alone, crying, like on her birthday, for the rest of her life.
Coming here has changed nothing; she doesn’t know how she thought, even for a moment, that it had.
By the time she lets out her third shaky breath, Simran is so detached from everything and everyone around her, she might as well be back in Toronto.