Wedding Cancelled and Other Stories Read online

  Anyways… now I was stuck with all these expensive clothes. And I didn’t know what to do with them. Ruchir had stopped taking my calls. He had Unfollowed me on Insta. I was like… devastated! What mistake had I made? What crime had I committed? How could he just block me? Why? Mummyji tried to console me, but she was no good at it.

  In fact, she made me feel worse by repeating, ‘Beta… I had told you from the beginning… this boy is tedha, not straight and honest. But did you listen? Now look!’

  Pappaji was quiet and didn’t want to get drawn into anything emotional. He only asked, ‘How will we get refunds?’

  I felt really bad. Here I was feeling depressed, unable to sleep at night, swallowing all sorts of pills… and missing my Ruchir! My wedding had been cancelled without any explanation, and all my parents cared about were refunds. Mummyji found me crying in the room a few nights ago. She came and sat next to me.

  ‘Beta… it is better this has happened now,’ she said, trying to console me. My lehenga was hung up on the curtain rod, wrapped in a plastic cover. Next to it, was Ruchir’s matching sherwani. Both had summer flowers on it, like those Abu-Jani outfits worn by the Bachchans. Delhi karigars were good at copying designer wear, though the Amritsar ones who specialised in duplicate designer outfits were the best - remember Anushka’s pink wedding lehenga? Mine was even better!

  I stared at it and my tears would not stop. If I could have, I would have got into Pappaji’s car and driven straight to Noida, with the lehenga and sherwani on the backseat, and my wedding jewellery in velvet boxes. I was willing to defy all orders, break the lockdown, risk arrest... but just go! I wanted to meet Ruchir face to face. I wanted to confront him - show him all my beautiful shopping.

  I was sure he would change his mind, smile his Ruchir smile if he saw me (I had lost weight, but not because of gymming, I was just too upset to eat!), and he’d say, ‘Jaanu… let’s do it! Come on jaanu... pick up your top, lower your straps... show me those juicy tits.’

  Ha! It was my turn now! I would laugh in his face and say, ‘Go fuck yourself! My tits are too precious to waste them on a kachrapatti, ghatiya man like you! Only my husband can enjoy them in the future - got it? Wait for my wedding card. And here’s your bloody achkan... I got it for next to nothing. You think you are the only cheap person in the world? You thought you had fooled me with that fake diamondwalli engagement ring? My mummyji is too shaani also. She had it tested... We were planning to give you a fake one at the wedding, too!’

  Shobhaa De is a widely read author and columnist. She is known for her outspoken, irreverent views, making her one of India’s most respected opinion shapers. Her writings have consistently chronicled her deeply felt socio-political-cultural concerns.

  First published in India by Simon & Schuster India, 2020

  A Viacom CBS company

  Copyright © Shobhaa Dé, 2020

  Cover Image Credits: Arundhati De-Sheth

  The right of Shobhaa Dé to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with Section 57 of the Copyright Act 1957.

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