Chapter 11: jurithewriter started writing her story: the train journey for Pehi's marriage

 

My father had two sisters. Rohini pehi, was older and was married off about nine years before dad entered matrimony which was just a few months prior to the loss of their home  to the floods the second time. The youngest sister and the baby of the family Baroda, got married about three years after my dad. There was no way that dad would miss this wedding. It was the first wedding in his closest family after they had moved to Pune. Baroda, being the youngest was the favourite in the family. Both my pehis were extremely caring, kind hearted and empathetic. They were far from being the stereotypical ‘nanad’, the bad girls who traditionally created rifts between the brother and his wife.

My mother actually shared a wonderful bond with her sisters in law, perhaps better than what she shared with her husband. She often told me how supportive both her sisters in law were during her brief post marriage stay in Mirza and there was nothing she could fault about their behaviour with her throughout her entire marriage. The pleasure with which she hosted them whenever they visited  and vice versa was palpable to everyone.

Since Jumi was not even a year old, my father decided to attend the wedding taking me along, and leaving Jumi and mum behind in NDA. The long train journey would have been difficult to manage with an infant who was still crawling.

In the first class compartment of the train my father, with his amazing inborn public relation skills, was soon laughing and equipped with the information of his co passengers’ whereabouts. There were just four seats in a first-class compartment, so the seats were quite spacious and comfortably cushioned. Those days there was no air-conditioning and one had to raise or lower the two sets of window panes to open them, which would enter into slots designed into the walls of the trains. On the outside was a sturdy shutter, made of slanting strips of aluminium, somewhat like the blinds that we use these days, and on the inside was a thick strong glass pane, both had to be raised up to shut the windows. 

Food was catered in these trains through good quality on-board caterers. One had to pre order, the volume of food was prepared accordingly. A lucky passenger might get food in a last moment ordering, an unlucky one would have to go hungry till a station was reached. The long distance fast trains like the Howrah express would halt in very few stations, so the wait for a station would sometimes be really lengthy.

Liveried porters would come to collect the preorders well ahead of time. On the first day of boarding, my father had ordered a single lunch meal for himself, which he would share with me. His co passengers started having their home cooked meals and as a courtesy asked my dad what I would eat. My dad informed that we would be sharing the plate. I instantly put my arms around the plate and announced that I wasn’t going to share my plate with anyone. Of course my dad laughed it off, but he was acutely embarrassed.

Naturally, I couldn’t finish off the food, Jumi confirmed this years later when this anecdote was being narrated.

Pehi was in her bridal finery when I started asking for something which no one could figure out. Dad was elsewhere, busy helping with the wedding arrangements. Everyone chipped in, in desperation, trying to get every possible thing a child might want. I was bawling by this time. Finally someone called my dad. I was thirsty and told him ‘mujhe pyaas laga hai’ - Hindi for 'I am thirsty.' Thirst quenched I was back cuddled into my aunt’s comfortable arms.

After the one month or so that we came back to NDA from Mirza post the wedding, Jumi, who was crawling when we had departed, walked into my delighted dad’s arms. Mum and dad must have looked at each other with longing. They were quite the passionate love birds.