Sagar has a clear memory of things. Then again, how does that help him except to remember that his bride climbed a ladder?

In the past two months, he met with Bhumika over five times. They chatted, drank a lot of coke (for some reason she adores coke), and as he explained his plan for their future, she nodded a lot.

If she’s not okay with this, she should’ve told him then, and he wouldn’t have booked a flight ticket to Andaman and Nicobar for their honeymoon. What must he do with the tickets? Sell them online? Maybe he should go alone, get drunk and pass out on the stupid queen-sized bed that the hotel’s offering. His manager granted him the leave, anyway.

Funny how he’s stuck between thinking about giving away the tickets and utilising his leave to the most.

“Sagar?”

Bhumika’s voice brings him back to the dark reality.

‘Someone put a damn light in here.’

“Huh!”

“Are you alright?” She asks.

He looks at her, mortified. Is she really asking that? She’s going to rip his heart in three, and still ask if he’s alright.

“I’m fine. I’m super fine.”

“Do you understand what I’m doing here?”

He nods until his head hurts. “Huh-huh.”

“So, are you okay with it?”

He wants to yell at her but restrains himself because he has better manners. Either that or he’s not capable of yelling at that angelic face. Thinking straight is not one of his strengths. He is swimming in a pool of dilemmas, and he also feels like someone else is peeing in that pool. Everything’s warm.

“No, I’m not.” He dares to say.

“I can understand,” she says.

“No, you don’t.”

He wants to use more No’s than his father ever did in his entire life.

“Please, don’t make a scene. Everyone will hear us.”

“No, I’d make a scene,” he whispers. “You are abandoning me. What else should I do?”

“We were never meant for each other.”

It took him a minute to react to that sentence. His heart takes a leap and rests in the ribcage, broken, or there’s a possibility that his dhoti is loosening around his waist.

“You . . .” His voice wavers. “You should’ve said that when we met like infinite times before the wedding.”

“How could I? You were talking about the future, a new house and the stickers that we should buy for our children’s books.” She gets down from the ladder and walks to him. “And I was drinking a lot of coke.”

“Coke isn’t a reason.”

She puts her head down.

It’s difficult to tell if she’s crying or just expressing guilt as it's dark around.

“What’s going to happen now?” He sounds hopeless.

“I wanted to run away quietly, and let you guys picture me as a villain, make odd remarks on me and taint my character. That’s all I planned, to be honest.”

“That’s not a lot. Do you even have a place to go?”

He questions himself why he cares if she has a place or not. Perhaps he’s a saint in his previous life.

Before she answers, they hear footsteps nearing them and exchange alarmed looks about what to do next.

Sagar’s the first one to react. He sees the stairs to the first floor a few feet away, takes her hand and drags her below its shade.

He expects her to reject, but she’s alarmed enough to let it go.

“Why are you helping me?” Bhumi murmurs into his ear.

“I’m not helping you.” He hisses. “I don’t want to be remembered as the groom that knows about his bride running away.”

Silence occupies the gap between them as they wait for this new person. Sagar croons his neck out of the shade and looks, while Bhumi leans behind, muttering and cursing herself.

They take another minute to realise they are still holding hands. Bhumika’s the first one to yank her hand away and Sagar lets her.

Outside, piercing the darkness, Sakuni walks to where the couple’s standing minutes ago.

Sagar exhales in peace. “That’s my friend. I’ll go talk to him, you stay here.”

“Please, don’t act weird.”

“I’m not weird.”

He doesn’t catch her expression but walks out to his best friend as if nothing is serious. As if some educated, yet the stupid girl isn’t crushing his soul.

“Sagar?” Sakuni yells. He’s wearing a brown suit, which Sagar helped him choose.

Sagar smiles ear to ear, showing all his teeth. “Hey, there’s my best friend.”

In the shade below the stairs, Bhumika rubs her Mehndi hands down her face like a cartoon character.

Sakuni steps forward and smacks Sagar on the back of his head. “Do you know that the people who call their best friend as best friend end up alone in an apartment with a cat and an expired yoghurt packet?”

Sagara hits him back. “No manhandling on my wedding day. That’s my own rule.”

“Hell with your rules. What are you doing out here?” Sakuni asks.

The reality catches him again, and Sagar stutters. “Nothing . . . really. Silence night. Chilling air. Some peaceful.”

Sakuni glares at him. “Are you alright?”

Sagar blows raspberries. “I’m fine. IS YOU ALRIGHT?”

“Why are you speaking like that, bloody butter eater?"

Sagar smiles again. Somehow he thinks smiling solves half of his problems, though in reality they only multiply for him.

“Your parents are searching for you.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Sakuni stares at him long enough for Sagar to sweat all over. He can’t let his best friend figure this out. He needs him to be innocent and clueless when elders yell at each other later tonight.

“If you aren’t there in five minutes, I’ll tell everyone you’re gay and want this wedding to stop.”

Sagar blinks at his best friend, flabbergasted.

“And adjust your dhoti. You look like a ten-year-old wearing a towel.”

Then Sakuni walks away.

Sagar slips behind, away from the looks of the girl who’s going to abandon him, and adjusts his dhoti. He blames the pot-bellied priest for letting him wear this today.

“Is he gone?” Bhumika steps out.

Sagar nods. Only their faces are visible from the lights above.

“Well, aren’t you leaving?” He asks.

“What’s the time now?”

Sagar checks his phone. “Seven-thirty.”

He can see her skipping on her toes, her hands in a tight grasp. Her bangles run against each other and tingle. And he’s wondering why she’s hesitating to leave.

“Should I hold the ladder for you?”

Bhumika raises an eyebrow. “No need to be sarcastic. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Oh.”

A lump forms in his throat.

“Can I run away after the reception?”

Sagar swallows and twists his neck to her. “WHAT?”

“I don’t have anywhere to go. The person who’s supposed to pick me up isn’t here yet.”

“So you want me to sit through a fake reception.”

“It won’t be bogus,” she says. “See those decorations, everything’s very real.”

He’s about to smile, taking pride in the decorations, but stops. “No, I won’t sit through a ceremony just because your pickup is late.”

“Please. No one of us gains anything from this marriage. We’ll be unhappy. Do you want to be with someone who’s being forced into this?”

The conversation is not getting any better. The thought of Bhumika being the one for him fades like a distant memory. Bit by bit like someone’s tearing away a piece of paper.

“Fine,” he says. “But after the reception, I’m telling everyone. I don’t care what happens after that.”

Bhumika’s eyes light up in excitement, and she jumps to hug him in gratitude, but he’s already turning away to put up the best performance of his life.

############

Do you like Sakuni?

Please vote, like and share.