For the Loss of a Match

 

For the Loss of a Match

 

NOTE: NO PHOTOS IN THIS BLOG; ALL PICTURES ARE ADVERTISEMENTS.

Genre - Fiction

Sub-genre - Comedy

Length of blog - 1100 words

                Nicky met Lizam in the years after passing out of college through a common friend. He came to know Lizam as one of the best story tellers in his friend's circle. A wonderful orator who could captivate his audience with his descriptives.

                “I entered the room to see my brother sitting and watching the TV”, Lizam continued, “He was without a shirt”

                Lizam started to tell a story. He raised his hands over his head and folded them behind his head and rested his head on the folded hands.

                “He was sitting like this”, Lizam continued,” As if he was relaxing, then I noticed his underarm was red. Only one underarm was red.”

                “What had happened was that the girl he is going around with had tried to wax his armpit hair”, Lizam said.

                All of us laughed.

                “And what about the other underarm?” Nicky said.

                “He wasn’t that madly in love with her to let her do the other one”, Lizam continued,” Those were Shabnam’s exact words.”

                Shabnam was Lizam’s younger brother by one year.

                “Mind you, Shabnam was smiling before I entered the room and looking at that smile that did not fade throughout our conversation, I can write and give it to you that he will marry her and only her”, Lizam said.

                Nicky held out a napkin from the bar table and Lizam penned down something. Soon Nicky heard the  news of Shabnam’s wedding. One day prior to the wedding, Nicky reached the wedding house soon after breakfast to lend a helping hand in the wedding preparations. Nicky was all too familiar with the great Indian weddings. How the family relatives, friends, near and dear ones would start the celebrations one or two days prior to the wedding.

The names all over the country would differ – Haldi, Mehendi, Roce, Saivar, Sangeet, Umbrache pani, almajevon, etc. – but the premise the same; to party. Haldi, Mehendi, Sangeet were terms used by non-Catholics of the country for the rehearsal dinner which may or may not include the engagement ceremony. Haldi in Hindi translated to turmeric – turmeric powder mixed in water applied to the bride and groom’s skin in separate private parties in their respective homes. Southern Indian weddings would add sandalwood powder - sandalwood being a native tree - to the Haldi mixture. The Haldi ceremony followed by a Mehendi ceremony which could transpire to the second and third day too. Mehendi ceremony constitutes for the bride and her posse being tattooed with henna. The already yellow from the Haldi bride’s hands and feet are stained orange by the crushed leaves of the henna plant. The groom’s side can have a Sangeet ceremony – Sangeet translating to Music – so a musical dance night ensues.

Likewise the Indian west-coast Catholics apply coconut milk to the bride and grooms in separate private parties. Whereas, the East Indian Catholics call it Saivar where the wedding parties – in their separate localities – have a procession to all the wells in their area and collect water from the wells and leaves from the mango tree. The latter giving the name Umbrache pani –Umbra translating to Mango tree and pani translating to water. The bride and grooms then bathe in this water. The groom has a shave too. The East Indian weddings were the most fun. Nicky loved the trumpeters who accompanied the wedding parties all around the village.

Nicky referred to the live band as trumpets of joy – because the dance included raising one hand above the head and shaking the hips in merriment. Today Nicky knew there would be no trumpets of joy, but, would include the common factor to all the above dinner parties – alcohol.

The beers were flowing since the time he had reached the groom’s apartment building. Nicky opted to lay out the decorations on the terrace where all would gather and then helped in decorating the wedding car. After which he headed home for a late lunch before readying himself to go back for the Roce. Nicky was tired of the alcohol. He was feeling hollow at the lack of a partner – that special someone who would understand him. But alas! He was without a match. He cursed his luck for whenever he landed up dating girls, thier frequency never matched.

“And then there is the day after the wedding where the bride goes back to her maternal home to visit her parents”, Nicky continued, ”Again the names differ – portoney, paspatni, mooh-dikhai, portapan, khallijevon etc. – more alcohol”

Nicky was making conversation with the guy standing next to him at the wedding house. He was trying to find solace in the routine of the various marriage ceremonies, but found none. Instead he found an egg enter his hand. Nicky did not like this part – where after all the relatives applied coconut milk to Shabnam and seated next to him, Lizam and one of Shabnam’s close friends – the rest would apply raw eggs, beer, ketchup, whatsoever viscous liquids they could get their hands upon. The three of them would have to endure this barrage of uneasiness.

Nicky felt it was a waste of a sanctimonious ritual, plus God forbid, what if some skin allergy be formed. Tomorrow the groom had to get married for Chris sakes! Nicky applied the coconut milk as soon as the relatives were done and before the mischief started, he headed for the terrace. He handed over the egg to another friend. On the way up, he remembered his birthday – how cake was applied maliciously to his face -so much so that he had to visit a specialist to remove the fungus growing in his ear; from the two-week old birthday cake in his ear.

Nicky shuddered at the thought as he entered onto the decorated terrace and reached for the cigarette packet in his pocket. He would have a  smoke and would wait for the crowd to pour in after their lowly endeavours downstairs. He searched his pockets and realised he did not have a match. He looked around and found himself to be the only person on the terrace. He trudged back two floors down the stairs to the grooms flat. As he entered the flat, the wall of people in front of him seemed to part. There was a cheer as Shabnam and Lizam in all their dirtiness had had enough from the onslaught of the various viscous fluids and were running towards the crowd. Nicky who was unaware of the rushing brothers got himself caught in a slimy embrace.

                They had pre-decided that they would do that; catch the miscreants and teach them a lesson by rubbing their gooey bodies on their clean clothes. And Nicky for the loss of a match got stuck in the crossfire.

 

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