“Main kunwara hoon, Brahmachari nahi”- This quote is attributed to Atal Behari Vajpayee.
I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in a moderately busy bus terminal in Chittaurgarh. This was the time I had to myself to look back at the last three days- fast paced, colourful and mast.
My classmate and friend from MHROD- Parived, the Bhatnagar, was going to become PariWed.
Once more this winter, that flag was at half-mast; that flag that symbolizes freedom and liberty ultimate- the flag of bachelorhood.
Parived was about to walk the path of victimhood by tying the knot.
My train to Udaipur, the site of martyrdom of Parived’s bachelorhood, arrived on time. The martyr’s cousin was there at the station to receive me.
I arrived at the guest house, met the groom’s father- I was surprised pleasantly that he remembered our earlier meeting at Rajasthan house three and a half years ago. The groom came out- dressed in a colourful kurta pyjama- signs of make-up from the previous evening still fresh on his face. We hugged warmly and I was just about to articulate the following thoughts into words- kya tu wohi parived hai jo shaam ko uthke good morning bolta tha- subah ko 8 baje tu uth bhi gaya aur fresh bhi ho gaya…waah…. Before I could articulate these thoughts into words, he said, “Tu jaa, fresh ho le… main abhi abhi utha hun, brush bhi nahi kiya hai.”
Haan, ye wohi Parived hai.
We later had breakfast together and we were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our friend Nish- a.k.a, Nishith Upadhyaya. Nish promptly called to say that he had arrived at Udaipur too (from Mumbai). Parived and I decided to pick him from where he was. Even as Parived drove us both through the Udaipur roads, Nish sent me an SMS- “If Parived is driving, may I suggest you stay back”. Too late- I was already in the car and the drive showed me why Nish was so alarmed.
Driving through Udaipur, Parived mentioned that if anybody could lose his way in Udaipur, it would have to be Nish. I argued saying that Nish had given us clear instructions saying that he stood right opposite State Bank of Bikaner and Jaipur (SBBJ).
In 5 minutes, Parived was proved to be correct. Nish indeed was untraceable. Nobody in Udaipur seemed to know about the existence of SBBJ.
Nish was lost- repeated calls to him and he would say “I’m standing in front of SBBJ”. Pari and I even checked if he had gotten down at Udaipur or elsewhere.
Haan, ye wohi Nishith hai.
We did trace him- there indeed was an SBBJ- the name tucked away amidst huge other signboards that Nish clearly forgot to mention. (to give you an idea, if SBBJ was written in font size 10, the next building signboard- Bank of Maharashtra was written in font size 40. To give you further idea, Pari and I were standing in front of the building and the signboard was so small we missed it. Salutes to Nish’s attention for detail.).
A couple of games of cricket, a few laughs over some ultra milds (naa- I didn’t touch them) and it was time to pull each other’s legs. We gave the event many names- PariWed…Pari (ved) weds Pari (Hindi for angel)…We reminisced about past affairs, talked about birds, bees and women and Nish and I mocked at Parived’s surrender into martyrdom- scheduled for later in the evening.
Love is blind, they say. Love makes one stubborn too. Pari simply refused to accept he was going to be a shaheed later in the evening.
The beautiful evening began. I realized I’d forgotten my tie in Delhi- was forced to wear a suit minus the tie (we actually tried to buy one in the nearest possible place we could have found one- Big Bazar- for the first time since its inception, somebody asked for a tie at Big Bazar. What he showed us for ties resembled the colours of Govinda’s shirt in the “Tum toh dhokhebaaz ho” song – Colourful Rajasthan I thought).
Nish was dressed like he would break into a Ghazal any moment. As we strode royally to the place where the Baaraat was to assemble, Nish, in his niche style, walked upto an arbit pair of uncle-aunty and said “you must be Parived’s parents!!!”
They politely nodded in the negative.
Parived came out- dressed like Shah Jahaan would have been- totally unable to control his happiness that oozed out of his face like milk would from a pan left to boil without turning off the gas. His ghodi was aptly named ******* (name withheld for obvious reasons). I promptly asked if the surname of the ghodi was ******. Pari blushed and brushed away my question.
Throughout the procession of the baaraat, the shaheed was beaming- even when the baarat lost its way- the people leading the baaraat didn’t know where the venue was ;-)
We met another baaraat on the way- watched people dance- ate heartily at the wedding- that Achaari Rajasthani Beans (forget the name- aam ka achaar + beans in a subzi) was out of the world.
Parived ki shaadi pe police na band bajaaya- aur fir army ne.
There was a police orchestra and an army orchestra- and they promptly played “saare Jahaan se Achcha” as Pari tied the knot with Pari. No kidding- they actually played this song- I was missing the song “ye desh hai veer jawaanon ka”.
Now that Pari was tied in the knots, Nish and I congratulated him- still beaming. We walked back to Dream Palace- where we were staying- dream palace.
In my dream that night I saw this friend of mine who long years back was The Special One. Now much married (obviously, to somebody else), she hit me on head and said, “tu mat galati kariyo ye”. I jumped up- only to see Nish snoring in the other half of the queen-bed we were both occupying.
I did not have the opportunity to ask her “Kaun si galati”.
In between attending the wedding, Nish and I also managed to get a dekko of the city of Udaipur and areas around- Kumbalgarh, Haldighati and Ranakpur.
As a fitting climax to the trip, we went to Chittaurgarh. After taking a round of the fort, we came back to the bus-stand and hugged each other to say goodbye. Nish was going back to Udaipur to catch a train and I had to take a bus back to Delhi.
After saying goodbye, I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in the moderately busy bus terminal. The last three days were fast paced, colourful and mast.
I wrote an SMS to Nish (that never reached him btw)- “Years down the line, we shall smile as we talk about the story of Parived’s wedding to my grandchildren, your grandchildren and Parived’s grandchildren. Geet humaari dosti ke, doharaayengi jawaaniyan!! Main na rahunga, tum na rahoge, phir bhi rahegi ye dastaan.”
This blog is dedicated to my wonderful friend Parived and his beautiful wife Surabhi. I wish them both all the very best. May the happiness stay on forever. Amen!!!
The blog is my token of affection for my wonder-friend Nish.
This blog is also a dedication to my friends Sinha and Thaplee- who, had they come, would have completed that picture- of my first few “friends” at MHROD.
Afterglow: Nish took the bus from Chittaurgarh to Udaipur. His bags were packed and he was all set to leave for the railway station when Pari’s dad asked- “ye aaj kaise jaayega- ye jis train ki baat kar raha hai wo Friday ko nahi chalta”.
Pari’s dad was right- Nish got the dates wrong- his train was not for that night, but for the next.
Long live Nishisms- Jai ho!!!
