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She could hear them arriving down the street. “Did you fill the water? Is there soap where it should be?” She called out as she rushed out of the kitchen. Let Baba tell his bride that he had made a whole room only for her. The room looked perfect, and she resisted the temptation to fit two more gaddas in the space where people would walk through. She had bought long garlands of flowers to partition the bed, and added a bright bedsheet as a curtain. Everyone had to walk through it to get to the kitchen and bathroom at the back of the house, but it could not be helped. The middle room had been kept for the groom and bride. They would not sleep till dawn, she was sure. It was cold, and there were ceremonies to welcome the bride. Everyone would want tea and biscuits when they came back. She quickly went to the kitchen to put on a large pan of water to boil the tea. Surely he would not be angry, now that the new wife was coming to make him happy. She would handle Baba’s anger when the time came. It is okay to have a few extra gaddas, she thought. But it was a wedding in the family after all, and they would not be able to live down the shame if the arrangements were not good enough. Most people had phoned to say they would come…”but,let us see”, they said, after a pause.
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Times were bad, and it was not safe to step out, they had heard. She knew that many in the family would not be able to come. She had hired forty gaddas, for that is the number that makes up a wedding. She and her sister caught them, and quickly made up beds on the floor in the front room. She sent her brother up to throw them down to her. Even the stairs to the terrace were covered with a pucca roof, and that is where they had kept the gaddas that had been hired from the shop in the market. And there was a terrace too, where she could escape to see the sky. In this house, there was enough room for everybody. Pari planned to paint it pink when they had the money for it. It was still painted a colour chosen by the old owners, but that could not be helped. Baba had bought it just weeks ago from a local family. “The front room can take twelve gaddas”, Pari declared
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“The gaddas are upstairs, run and get them bhai!”, she cried out! The three siblings got to work quickly, handing over things to each other quickly, used to working together in silence with speed. She had stayed on as long as she could at the wedding, and now they had very little time before the others returned, bringing back a new bride in a triumphal procession. Even today, she was in charge of getting the house ready for the guests before they came back from the wedding ceremonies before dawn. She looked after her father’s house, and had to stay at home. Some days, they even out to the markets together, bunking work. All her friends did, and they all had money for nice things like lipsticks and nail polish and new salwar suits. Maybe, Pari thought, now she could go out and work. It would be good to have someone to share the burden of the house. The new mother was not bad looking, and father had beaten them less since he took on with her. It was their father’s second marriage, but they did not mind that. They both knew how they had saved to spend well for this wedding. “You bhai, if we left it to you, the marriage costs would have doubled”. Gesturing to the strings of lights adorning their small house, he said, “This. “I had to give more”, he said, tired already. “It is always seven rupees from the hall to here. “Why?” demanded the youngest, always ready to fight for her rights. “We have so much to do before they all arrive. “What took you so long bhai?”, Pari asked. The heavy lock gave way, belying the weakness of the thin wooden door that led them indoors.įootsteps crunched on the ground behind them, the frost still crisp on the ground. The lock came alive now in her hands, and Pari turned the key with ease. Together, they blew into the lock, their sweet warm breath melting the icicles in the cold metal. “Let me help you”, her younger sister said. It would be dawn in a few hours, and the lock would have been easy in the mellow warmth of the day. It was dark, the lock frozen in the frost of a chill Delhi night. Her slim fingers were stiff in the cold winter. “Hurry up, and open the lock!”, whispered an impatient voice through the cold fog. (oh, and gadda=mattress, gaddas=mattresses) One day, I shall edit, punctuate, clean up the story, which has to be a work of fiction, surely. Written so fast, that punctuation would have slowed me down.