The celebration, though not very common, is not very rare either. The son was celebrating the silver jubilee of his parent’s marriage on a Sunday night. It seemed as if the son and his wife had thoroughly rehearsed the items of the ceremony.
In the evening the house was decorated with festoons and chain-bulbs. A sehanai party was drafted and tents ware pitched for guests. The groom was arranged to arrive from a neighbouring house with a small retinue, and the bride’s party stood at the reception arch, a picture of hospitality.
As the car entered the precincts, the sehanai whined its tunes in arabesque (= artistically zigzag) designs. The main musician, an old grey-haired person, nodded his head like a serpent dancing to the tunes of the snake-charmer.
The entire affair seemed to be nothing but a photocopy of an actual marriage. And, indeed, so it should be, as it was a celebration. Their son, an NRI employed in London, had come to his parents with his newly wed British wife. His parents’ marriage day fell during the tenure (= period of stay) of his trip. So he planned to celebrate it with due pomp, especially as his grandfather would be absent.
His grandfather was an eminent foreign-returned physician. He had gone to Vienna to attend a big medical convention. He was a widower and an old-timer. The members of the house knew full well that the doctor would take an exception at taking such liberties with conservative values. Naturally, the timing was perfect.
The wedding guests were warmly welcomed by the son and his foreign wife, who enjoyed the rituals with beaming smiles. The ladies participated with their wonted (= usual) zest.
The marriage-hour struck; the bride and the groom dressed elegantly in their new wedding suits and garlanded, stood face to face relishing the whole atmosphere. The whole house was agog, almost bouncing. The gents and the ladies began to indulge in exchange of sly remarks and counter remarks. The children, too, revelled as if their auntie and uncle were being remarried. Every item was performed in its original colour.
The guests departed after the feast. The hosts were supervising the work of the servants in order to set the entire house in order. It was around 11p.m. when the stale and pale-looking midnight house was lighted up by a pair of brazen hard lights. The son felt surprised and stunned. He feared that someone of his foreign mates must have arrived at this unearthly hour to embarrass him. He rushed outside.
Lo, and behoid! It was only his dadaji – the least expected and the least welcome! The latter had scrapped some sessions of the convention as he had some emergency calls.
“Is this any celebration, grandy?” he asked his grandson.
“Yes grandy”, replied the son, “Marriage-anniversary.”
“Yours?” he asked.
“No, Dad’s grandy,” replied the son.
The doctor merely sniffed, raised his eyebrows in evident disapproval and went straight to his room. The romance was pricked in its colourful bubble.
