(fiction)
After the
struggle of ten minutes to find the venue of the marriage my uncle parked his
car loaded with 5 elders and two seven & three years young cousins of mine.
We all stepped out of the car, relieving me from the weight that was on my laps
of my healthy cousin. Parking space was a sandy expanse. We went to the side of
the road and saw the baraat. Punjabi baraat. Marriage was of my mother’s
cousin, whose name i never took to my knowledge except when we reached the venue.
From our side only my mother and i were present. Rest were my mother’s
relatives who left no second pass by saying that a search of a girl for me should
start. Effect of the atmosphere of marriage.
We crossed
the road and joined the baraat. Music and dance, as in all Punjabi marriages
are, were high. Punjabi music, dance and fun vibes that made a non dancer
within me shake his body.
“yaaahooooo!!!!!”
We all heard
when the volume of the music was decreased as the demand of some other song was
being done. Everybody looked up at the balcony. The passage to the entrance of
the venue was through a narrow lane, with houses and shops on both the sides. As
the volume was back to the normal-in a Punjabi marriage normal volume is a very
high volume-the guy started to dance. He first kicked, then punched and jumped
saying, “yaaaahoooo!!!!”. Laughter broke among all of us but the man continued
to dance. Crazy guy.
“lets go
ahead. I want to meet some relatives.” Mother said and i obliged. My mother met
her relatives. But i saw a girl. I did not see her intentionally. I was just
having a glance at the people in the baraat, suddenly i saw her.
Open black
hair and green salvaar kamiz, i noticed. She was with an old lady, her grandmother,
i guessed. I could not take my eyes off from her. Her allure kept me looking at
her. I felt as if nobody was walking with me. My eyes were stuck on her. Only
her, and at a time when she had not even looked at me. I wanted to go closer to
her and see her face. I wanted to hear her voice. I had an option to go, but i
did not. Something held me from going to her. Suddenly, she looked back at me
with an angelic smile. I got so nervous that i could not smile. She was looking
at me with a smile but i was looking at her like a fool, with a blank face.
She again
looked back, and i felt a connection. One, because she looked at me for the
second time. Two, with a smile. We looked at each other continuously for a good
amount of time. We looked at each other at least five times and did not break
the connection unless someone called us.
We entered
the venue, which i thought would be edifice. But it was not. When entered, i
had lost her. She was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to get connected to her. I
wanted to feel what i had felt when we were looking at each other in the
baraat. That feeling is still undefined yet the most memorable.
My uncle
took me, with his five year young daughter, to a place in the venue to eat
something where i saw her sitting beside my cousin. That was the closest i was
to her in that evening. She looked at me. I looked at her. Connected.
I have not
found a word to describe her pulchritude. It cannot be defined by words. She was
simply comely with a statuesque model perfect figure. Her eyes conveying her
demure nature made me go mad. Her green salvar kamiz with transparent sleeves,
i still remember.
I had to
leave as my cousin demanded to. We did not talk. We only looked at each other. While
leaving, she was smiling but the pain got on my face. I failed to hide it with
a smile. I wanted to smile and leave and say “good bye”, but could not. That time
i realised that no “bye” is ever “good”.
That was one
year back i saw her. Now all that is with me is that image of her in my mind. I
did not talk to her, even with the feeling of being connected. I regret the
fact. Time, if asked, i really want back is THAT time. I think about her.
“is she okay
right now?”
“is she smiling
right now?”
I ask myself
but don’t get any answer. Worst of all, i don’t know even if she is alive.
I cannot
define the feeling but yes, i have baptized her as “panipat girl.”
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