.second attempt:


Naani’s Marriage

She took off the last of her gold bracelets and set it on the dressing table. The dressing table, like the carpet underneath, was new to the room. The room was new to her. She had come to the room with the furniture, a modest dowry. She raised her head and looked at the mirror. The fluorescent light ricocheting off the mirror hurt her eyes. Her eyes were puffy from all the crying she had done today. She turned around and adjusted the end of her sari to cover her bare midriff. It was important to conceal as much as possible.


She woke up today in the house she had woken up all of her 20 years. Everyone seemed unusually busy in the small house. Her father was a professor at the only University in Nepal. He didn’t make much money but he was a reputed scholar. She was the only sister to four brothers. Her parents and her brothers had always pampered her, never letting her feel as poor as they really were. Naani, they called her lovingly. Some days, there would be a competition amongst the brothers to shower her with presents. Of late, those competitions had become fiercer.
The marriage ceremony started around noon. The astrologers had decided it was the best time and would make the marriage happy. They said the marriage would last, that neither the bride nor the groom would die young. Naani felt the ceremony was much longer than the four hours it took. She had to sit beside the groom for the whole time, her chin almost touching her chest. Her mother was on her other side, sobbing softly. Covered in a heavy silk veil and unable to see anyone, she had finally been granted the privacy to think about her marriage alone.

Naani remembered the only time she had seen the groom. A match-maker had taken the proposal from her parents to the groom’s family. They had decided to take the proposal seriously on the merits of her family – high caste, unpolluted lineage and a respectable social status. Two weeks later, the groom, his immediate family and a few friends came to seal the relationship, the linking of the two families. Her mother and sisters-in-law had dressed her up and turned her into a doll, pale underneath the coat of red rouge on her cheeks.
“How is your daughter doing?” the groom’s father asked.
“Would you like some tea?” her father replied.
Her eldest sister-in-law handed her the tray with three china cups filled with tea and motioned her to enter the room where the guests were seated.
“Come with me. Please,” Naani pleaded.
“Ok,” she grabbed a tray filled with steel cups and followed Naani.
At the door, she looked around the room. She had no trouble recognizing the man she was going to be married to. The match maker had given her his picture the previous day. Her head lowered, she walked around the room, nervously serving tea to the groom’s father, mother and the groom.
“She has one year of college left to finish her bachelor’s. I had hoped she would finish college before I gave her away...” her father’s thick voice trailed off.
The groom’s father was audibly moved. “Sir, your daughter is my daughter now. She is my responsibility.”
She felt a slight push and looked around to see her sister-in-law gesticulating discreetly to move the last of the china cups further down the tea-table. Her palms began sweating as her trembling hands pushed the cup. She had confused the man she was going to marry with one of the other men, probably a brother. It had to be a brother. She just wanted to cry and flee the room. Her head lowered even more to hide her red, sweaty face, she tried to move towards the door but couldn’t. She raised her head and snatched a glance at her man before swiftly following her sister-in-law out of the room.
“I can’t believe you set the cup in front of the brother,” her sister-in-law sounded almost accusing.
“But their faces were so similar.”
“Yeah, there are five of them with similar faces. You are supposed to be married to the youngest.”
“What do you mean supposed?” Naani was worried.
“Well, you never know. I heard the youngest isn’t keen on marriage and one of the others is not happy with his marriage.”
“They can’t do that!” Naani was shouting, “Baa would never allow that to happen.”
“There is only so much your father can do. If the elder brother sat beside you during the marriage ceremony, baa would have to keep quiet or risk never being able to marry you off.”
“Doesn’t baa know about this?”
“He does. But the family is good and rich. He doesn’t want to lose this great opportunity.”
“I didn’t want to get married in the first place.”
“It is not your choice.”

The priest conducting the marriage ceremony started the incantations, the penultimate part of the ceremony.
Naani wondered whether the man sitting next to her was the youngest brother. From what she’d been told, he was 25, had a Master’s degree and had impressed his father with his business sense. He was also his mother’s favorite son, not unlike most other youngest sons. He was going to inherit a large portion of the family business. Naani would have a good life. Not easy but good. It wouldn’t be easy living with the parents-in-law and all their children and grandchildren. But there would be four other daughters-in-law in the house to share the work. Her husband would eventually get his inheritance, and she would enjoy her old age.
But she could be sitting next to the elder brother, Naani thought. She’d heard that he was 45, had quibbled with his parents and worked for the government. Those government jobs didn’t pay much but he would survive in the joint-family till his parents lived. After that, he would have to make do with his inheritance. That would not be much because he didn’t work for the family business. Naani would have a wretched life.
“Would the groom please stand up,” the priest’s voice rang out amid a clanging of bells. Naani had seen many marriage ceremonies. She would be part of many such ceremonies in the years to come, but never like this, never with the thick silk veil barricading her from the rest of the people. As she felt the groom get up, she started sobbing.
“Shh. It’s not time yet,” she heard her mother’s hoarse whisper. She clenched her teeth and forced the sobs into a whimper.
She felt a piece of cloth wrap around her face over the veil. Someone slowly lifted her veil and her neatly combed hair saw daylight for the first time since the ceremony had begun. She shivered. She could hear loud cheers for the groom. She felt the vermillion powder fall on the part of her hair. As her veil fell down, she hugged her mother and started crying uncontrollably. “I don’t want to go, maa. Please let me stay here. I won’t cause you any more trouble. Don’t send me away, please.”
“You are a daughter. You have to leave.” Her mother managed between her own hysterical cries.
Naani kept hugging her mother but her mother just lay there limp. Soon, her eldest brother came up to her and called out her name in a faltering voice. He wasn’t crying, but Naani could hear the searing pain in his heart. He lifted her up and carried her on his back to the car waiting to take her to her husband’s house. All around her, Naani could hear only sobs and cries. She cried louder to drown out the world outside her veil.
Two children tried to start a conversation with her during the car ride. Naani kept quiet, unable to utter a single syllable. She couldn’t tell if there were more people in the car besides the two children. She wondered if her husband was in the car. When the car stopped, the children grabbed her hand and led her away from the car. They walked seven paces and stopped. “This is grandma,” the children said in unison.
Naani dropped to her knees and touched her mother-in-law’s feet with her forehead. Her mother-in-law grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up. As she got up, the mother-in-law removed her veil. Naani looked at her mother-in-law’s glowing face for a moment and lowered her head.
“You are beautiful, more beautiful than I expected. Welcome to your home!”
Naani felt faint. As she looked around, she realized she was in a crowd of strangers. She could not make eye-contact with anyone but everyone seemed to be trying to smile at her. She felt helpless; she did not have her mother or one of her brothers’ wives by her side to tell her what to do. She followed her mother-in-law into the house, trailed by countless children.
They took her to a big, expensively decorated room. The smell of fresh paint nauseated her. The children sat around her, quiet and expectant. Her mother-in-law smiled at the children and told her, “These are your nephews and nieces. I haven’t seen them this happy in a long time. Treat them like your own children.”
The afternoon turned into evening and Naani was led to the wedding reception. She couldn’t keep track of the people who brought her presents. Everyone made a comment about her beauty but none were willing to talk to her about anything else. She tried to look around between engaging the guests. She could not find her husband.

She sat down in front of the dressing table once more. She applied a little more mascara to her eyelashes hoping to hide the red eyes. After the reception, the children had dropped her off in this room filled with her dowry. The bed was neatly made and flowers hung from all the corners of the room. She was waiting for her husband. Sheela, her eldest niece, had teased her before herding all the other children away, “Enjoy your first night with your husband. Forgive me, but I will never get to rib you again.”
She got up from the seat and went over to the bed.
“Hide your emotions as much as you can. Concealment is a woman’s highest virtue.” Her mother had lectured her after the marriage had been fixed. Your brothers and I have raised you like a princess but things will not be the same when you go to your husband’s home. Don’t do anything that will embarrass us. Always treat your parents-in-law with utmost respect, no matter how they treat you. You will be at their mercy and they can easily make life much harder for you. Love the children, the children will love you back. But save the best for your husband. Treat him like a prince, comply with all his desires and demands. Stand up for him in private, but do not show your affection in public. Remember, your husband is your God.
Last night, she had come to bid good-bye to Naani. “Please forgive us, Naani. Please promise me that you will not make a scene if your husband turns out to be the older brother.”
“But maa, how am I going to live with an old man?”
“Shh, whatever he is, he is your husband. Now promise me.”
Unable to turn her mother down, she had sobbed, “I promise.”
She took out the pillow from underneath the quilt and pressed it on her lap. If her husband turned out to be the elder brother, there would be no end to her miseries, she thought. His parents did not like him. He had rebelled against them to work outside the family. Their age difference would only worsen their relationship; he wouldn’t be able to understand her desires or fulfill them.

She jumped out of the bed when she heard the knock. She tried to prepare herself mentally not to betray her emotions as she walked to the door. She stopped breathing when she unlocked the door. “Please come in,” she could barely hear her own voice.
“Look up, I want to see your face,” her husband said softly.
Eyes closed, she lifted her head.
“You are not going to keep me from seeing those eyes, are you?” the man’s voice could not conceal his excitement and nervousness.
She opened her eyes slowly and saw a handsome, young man smiling at her. His hair looked stupid with the coif on. She smiled and began to cry.
“Don’t cry. Trust me, I will take care of you until I breathe last,” he said as he pulled her towards him. “What should I call you?”
“Naani,” she said shyly.

Superb!!
A non verbose and perfect story,touched by reality!
When they say a story should be like a small window through which you can see the whole world, they are right.
You did that job! Best wishes for नानी :)
keep them coming.