‘Weddings are made in heaven’. Nikaahs are also made in Jannat (secular fabric maintained). This one will be no exception. The Pundits are yet to declare the auspicious dates. But, to the eternal delight of every Chai and Politics lover of this country, a winter-wedding is certain. Behold yourselves. “The Winter is Coming”. Am I too early? Whatever ! Let the ‘Chai pe Charcha’ begin.
The day was 16th of May, 2014 when tremor waves of 336 were recorded on the electoral scale. Whether it was Modi-wave or not, is still debatable on Arnab’s ‘Noise-hour’, Rajdeep-Sagarika’s dinning table and in Punya Prasoon’s definition of Kraantikari. If the Election Commission is to be believed (no other option mate), this wave left the ‘Hand’ punched, the ‘Cycle’ punctured and the ‘Arrow’ pierced. Nobody even addressed the ‘Elephant’ in the voting room. The ‘Broom’ had a Wagonr-party.
While the ‘Internet-Hindus’ were busy living their Achche-Din and Rahul Gandhi was ‘coming of age’ for the third time, the Political descendants of JP movement seemed to burn their hatchet. The Third-Front was in a flutter. Nepotism got a brand new meaning when an amalgamation called Janta-Parivaar, as heterogenous as chalk and water solution, was formed. In the blink of an eye, the Parivaar was at daggers drawn with the 56-inch rock. Bihar, the bridal state was left awestruck. Holding lantern in one hand and riding a bicolor bicycle, she saw her existing husband cheating her after a humiliating Loksabha ceremony in his own backyard. Perhaps, all she wanted to say was “ Sushaasan Ji, Hum Thode Bewafa Kya Huye Aap to Badchalan Ho Gaye ”.
Nevertheless, she decided to move on. So, did the tectonic plates of Nepal ! She had heard of a Chai-waala who was her new crush now. But, the problem was that the man had turned Brahmachaari and had dedicated his life for the bigger cause. Courtyard of a state could no longer bind him. Not even the boundaries of his nation were big enough for this man’s promises to his fellow men. From visiting his counterparts in other countries to inviting them to his own home, he did everything to bring in more wealth to his household. For the next few months, his phone was in flight mode on frequent basis.
While her crush was having feasts, clicking selfies and being mocked for his Paridhaan, she could see plight of the hungry, illiterate and naked kids in her village. In this part of the country, the jungles were not receding rather approaching at an alarming rate. These industries, fly-overs, statues, trains etc., for which this man was working, were of no use to her if the kids around her could not get what other kids were getting. Her heart wept. She was left with no other option but a Swayamwar! Yes, you heard it right. No more arranged marriage stuff where she could be tied to anyone. She will follow her heart now. This time she can’t be fooled (hopefully).
There she is, waiting for the righteous one. The stage has been decorated. The announcements are just a matter of time. At the eleventh hour, the man with the bicycle has decided to travel alone without his Parivaar. Perhaps, he now knows that his bicycle has to run only on road to avoid punctures. And, it’s not a secret anymore that who the Sevak of the road is. A new Joker with broom in his hand has promised the other member of the Parivaar for his special Naagin-dance performance. He knows a few tricks that had left people mesmerized in a distant village. But she isn’t new to broom bearing Taantriks. Only she knows what lies in her heart.
Whomsoever she chooses, we know, the wedding is going to be a typical big fat Indian wedding. Let the Biharis do their job. And, what we, non-Biharis, will do? Arre Bhai, Shaadi Hai. Khana Kha Ke Hi Jaayenge….
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