When Hari Met His Saali (10 page)

Back on the plane, Hari was gulping a few more drinks to send himself back to sleep. The aunty next to him was still yapping about … something.

Same time — Los Angeles

Tia was anxious.

Don’t share too much information about us with Mom and Simi, Hari.

She was pacing up and down in her apartment.

Oh God, I didn’t prepare Hari for this trip. What is he going to think of Mom and Simi? So far he only had me to judge but now …

Her mobile buzzed. It was a message from Simi:

Got money. Thanks, Luv, Simi.

Tia waited before replying. She figured that Hari must have landed in Hyderabad by now, and he would soon tell her if he was going to Nagpur.

Tuesday morning — South India

Mr. Suresh Reddy, the owner of the start-up company Game On India, met Hari at Hyderabad airport. Hari was impressed with this guy from the moment they met. During the long drive from the new and impressive airport, Reddy
came across as a young, suave, well-travelled — as well as well-read — man who was way too confident for his age.

At their small but happening office, Hari met his young team and they were an enthusiastic and hardworking bunch. After a few demos Hari had quickly decided he wanted to collaborate with this talented group of people. He felt that with a presence in Asia as well as North America they might be able to crack some region-specific apps and games. Chitthi had already locked the terms of arrangement, so by the evening they had signed an initial Memorandum Of Understanding and by the end of the night they were partners.

When he returned to his five-star room at the Taj Krishna, Hari realized that if he didn’t consciously think about it he could’ve been fooled into thinking he was still in America. The cars, the hotel, the hospitality — and not to mention the people — were so, how to say … up-to-date.

Hari wanted to go to sleep but Reddy insisted that he wanted to show him a good time. His brother Ramesh joined them. It turned out that the Reddy family owned a chain of nightclubs. Their father and uncles oversaw that operation, while the younger generations had moved into the tech and software industry. This was the family plan.

Hari was treated like a prince of the night.

This is a different kind of rich. Rich Indians are like kings.

Hari had marveled at the disposable income as well as number of people at the beck and call of the Reddy brothers. The management at the Taj Krishna was also friendly with them. Hari couldn’t imagine having that level of influence back home.

When he was dropped off at his room at around three a.m. Hari was drunk, he was but a well-fed drunk, and a happy drunk. He hadn’t had so much fun in the longest time. He would sleep like a baby for the next fourteen hours straight.

Hari’s Trivia # 32: Humans can survive longer without food than they can without sleep.

When he got up, there were several missed calls for Hari from the Reddy brothers as well as from Tia. He called Reddy first, who just wanted to check if he was OK.

‘If you are hungover, I can send a masseur who will get rid of all the stress in your body.’

It would be a lie to say that Hari did not consider it for a moment, especially because of the way Reddy had said it.

‘No, I think, I am OK now. But I want to see if there’s a late night flight to Nagpur, can someone check for me?’

Hari was surprised that all his official work was done within a day of his arrival and now he was considering going to Nagpur. But only if the flight time was convenient, he told himself.

One phone call later

Not only did Reddy book Hari’s ticket to Nagpur but he also booked a room in the only four-star hotel in the city. He had also booked a chauffeur-driven car, which would be at Hari’s disposal. Hari felt uncomfortable that Reddy was refusing to be reimbursed for all these expenses, but Reddy kept saying, ‘We are married now. We are partners.’

Hari then called Tia, who didn’t even ask how his meetings went but was excited to hear that Hari was indeed going to Nagpur.

‘Hari,
milte hi Mom ke pair chhuna.
Touch her feet as soon as you meet Mom!’

‘What? Why? I don’t see you touching my mother’s feet!’ Hari had said, even though he was well aware of the custom.

‘Uff, just do it
na
, for me. Also, don’t go into too much detail about us, OK?’ Tia rambled on.

‘What do you mean?’ Hari asked, now feeling slightly scared.

‘Also, give the invitation to Mom and then invite them verbally as well. You have to insist that they come to the wedding. At least a couple of times.’ Tia was focused, as if she was dictating a note to someone.

‘Why don’t you insist …’

Hari was feeling the burden of Tia’s behavioral expectations but didn’t want an argument so he trailed off.

Tia disregarded his comment as if he had not even mentioned it.

‘Listen, I am going to call Simi and tell her you’re coming, I mean going. Oh my God, oh my God … Just, just don’t do anything or say anything crazy about me, OK? My mom, oh my God, my mom still probably has this image of me when I was nineteen, I mean I haven’t seen her … she hasn’t seen me …’ Tia was hyperventilating when Hari cut her off.

‘Babes, just calm down. Everything will be OK. I can handle myself.’ Hari was actually dreading the visit, but it felt good to say it.

‘Just, just remember, enter late and exit early. I gotta go, will call later.’ And Tia hung up.

‘Hello Tia? Tia?’ Hari was now seriously stressed.

And so was Simi. Tia had just called her and told her that Hari was visiting them for dinner.

Your Bobby Donnell is visiting us? For dinner? Oh Lord!

She still had a few hours so she called her mom and informed her about Hari’s visit. Her mother freaked out even more.

‘Coming to dinner? I didn’t even … how could Tia send her fiancé to our house alone? Fiancé? Oh, Lord, why do you do such things to me?’ Simi’s mom was hyper ventilating. ‘
Ghar me sabji kal ki padi hai.
Dinner? Oh Lord!’

Her mom was checking the refrigerator as she was speaking to Simi, who was trying to calm her down.

‘Everything will be OK, Mom.’

Shit, I’ll have to take charge here. My Jija is coming from America. Oh Lord!

She drove quickly to Sitabuldi Market, probably the oldest and the most crowded market in Central India. This was no mall; this was a traditional old Indian market. There were no traffic rules here. Hawkers and street vendors owned the road, and that meant that Simi had to park her Kinetic elsewhere and then walk to KalaSundar, the sari shop where her mother had been buying saris all her life.

After the unnecessary but unavoidable pleasantries with the old uncle who owned KalaSundar, Simi selected an orange sari for her mom. She wanted to buy one for herself but decided against it, as she was short on cash. In this market they still only took cash. It made her sad that she was short of money. She was a working woman now yet she hardly bought anything nice for her mother. But there was no time to be sad. Simi took off before stopping at the small
kirana
store near her house to pick up a two-liter bottle of Pepsi and some sweets before rushing home.

When she reached home, Simi’s mom was pulling out a heavy iron trunk from under the bed. This rusty box contained all her mom’s most precious silverware and silk cushion covers. They only made an appearance if her mother deemed the occasion to be
of the highest level of importance.
Some of the stuff in it was ancient — handed down for generations — and yet it only saw daylight if the occasion qualified within her mother’s strict guidelines. Simi guessed that today’s occasion, with Tia’s fiancé coming to dinner, qualified.

‘Who am I saving all this stuff for?’ her mom would ask. ‘For you two only,
na
?’ Her mother would often talk to herself and Simi at the same time.

Simi noticed that Indurani
Bai
, the upstairs neighbor’s cook, was working furiously in the kitchen.

‘Why are you standing there? I requested Mrs. Deshpande from the third floor to lend me Indurani
Bai
. Emergency
hai bataya.
Oh Simi, you know
Hariprasad is Dr. Malhotra’s son, his only son? They are ultra-rich in America. What is he going to think of our house?’ Her mother was all over the place and still screaming.

Simi looked at the cracked ceiling, the water seepage in the corner in the living room, the broken glass on the window.

Shit, Simi, you were supposed to fix all that! You are such a procrastinator and now, see?

Simi cursed herself, but the primary objective was to keep her mom calm.

‘He is marrying Tia
Didi
and not our house, Mom.’

Simi put the bottle of Pepsi in the fridge. When she returned to the living room, all the cushions had new covers on them. Her mother had changed them with hyper kinetic urgency.

‘Mom, they smell of fungus,’ Simi observed as she brought out her Nike deodorant and sprayed it on the covers.

‘Mom, this is for you,’ Simi said finally giving her mother the sari; orange was her mother’s favorite color.

‘Why did you get this? So expensive? Save money for yourself! And that too orange color?’ her mother scolded her even as she draped it over herself. ‘I am old now, I don’t need expensive sari, but anyway, since you’ve bought it for me so lovingly, I will wear it.’

Early evening — Hotel Pride, Nagpur

Hari was getting ready in his room at the four-star hotel in Nagpur he was staying at. He was wearing the shirt Tia had packed and was ready to leave when a Whatsapp message came through on his phone from Tia.

‘Take some
mithai
or something sweet. Don’t go empty-handed.’

‘That’s just great! What does ‘empty-handed’ even mean? The hands
are
empty. Such an Indian thing,’ Hari said out loud.

I am marrying a control freak cuckoo woman.

Nevertheless he asked the front desk to arrange for a gift pack of chocolates. He was expected to be at the Galhotra house by seven p.m. and by ten-thirty p.m. he was going to be at the airport to catch a flight to Mumbai where, at two-thirty a.m., he would finally board a flight back to
fucking Los Angeles.

This Nagpur trip was a mistake!

Hari was panicking now. He didn’t really want to meet Tia’s mother and sister, but it was too late to back out. Plus, the porter had already taken his
bags outside. After checking out of the hotel, Hari climbed into a monstrosity of an SUV — the box shaped Mahindra Xylo. He did not appreciate being driven in such a big car all by himself. It was a waste, he thought.

Hari’s Trivia # 916: A liter of motor oil can pollute 925,000 liters of water and one acre of land one inch deep.

He had given Simi’s address to the driver who reached the small street where the Galhotra residence was without any trouble. Hari was worried that he would shit in his pants if he kept his eyes open and watched the crazy traffic and even crazier drivers. When the driver had turned the Xylo into the Galhotra’s small street, they found it blocked with a
mandap.

‘Sir, I cannot go any further. Someone’s marriage function is going on,’ the driver casually mentioned as he started backing up the car.

‘Marriage? On the road?’ Hari was astonished.

Hari had to walk the final stretch on his feet. It was about half a kilometer and he waded through the wedding crowd and over the potholes with loudspeakers blaring music in his ears. The air had a funky smell. It was a mix of stale air and the gazillion incense sticks burning at the entrance of the
mandap
— which looked like a film set — mixed with the smell of food from inside, and plastic, no, a tire burning. Someone was burning rubber somewhere nearby.

As he passed the
mandap
entrance, some wedding hosts mistook him for a guest and approached him in a drove with their hands folded in
Namaste.
It was like a polite mass attack but They kept saying ‘Welcome, welcome.
Aayiye na, aayiye na
!’

Where are the cows? There were supposed to be cows on the street
! was all Hari could think.

He excused himself from the wedding hosts and kept walking. When he thought he had reached the correct building Hari saw a middle-aged woman at the window, staring out as if she was waiting for someone. As soon as she saw him she moved away from the window. It was Simi’s mother.

‘He is here, he is here!’ Simi’s mom was running around as if
svayam
Godwas on her doorstep. Simi didn’t even get a last chance to take a look in the mirror.

Hari was searching for the doorbell when Simi opened the door.

‘Hariprasad, right? Come in, come in!’

‘Uh, it’s Harry.’

Why would you say your name is Harry here?

‘Mom, Hariprasad is here. Come in, come in.’

Simi’s mother was way too emotional to be allowed to meet anyone new let alone the fiancé of her elder daughter. Simi felt bad for her mother as she watched her approaching Hari, with her legs trembling, her arms open, her lips quivering, and her eyes moist with soft tears. It was as if she had seen water after being stranded in desert for days. For the longest time she just stood there looking at Hari from head to toe. It was a bad, a awkward kind of silence where Simi could hear her mother actually crying, but at the same time trying to suppress her crying, which made it worse because it sounded like she was choking and celebrating at the same time.

Oh, Lord, Mom, say something!

‘Hariprasad,
beta
!’ she finally exclaimed pulling his head down to her height to take a closer look, her hands holding his cheeks like a foodie holding a watermelon.

You can’t just touch me woman Aunty Mom!

Hari wished he could somehow master a technique to disappear into the thin air. Simi was feeling the same thing. Her jaw was hurting from holding an ear-to-ear smile, waiting for him to notice her.

While Simi’s mother was literally mauling his head — all in the name of affection — Hari turned to face Simi. It was a cry for help look.