The bada memsahib came out of the warmth of her room holding onto her party clutcher. She could feel the cool winter breeze, so wrapping her pashmina around herself with the Roman stilettos tied up to her ankle- dressed for the party, she hurried her way to the porch where her husband sat behind the wheel of the car. Some residual smoke of the cigarette hung in the car as she slammed the door shut, making a mental note to talk to her husband about giving up smoking, but not tonight! She would let it pass and both of them would enjoy this dinner party thrown in the out division chhota bungalow.
This bada memsahib has been my friend ever since she came as a new bride. She still has that exuberance of youth and radiates an intelligent beauty. Talking to her is so refreshing! What you see her as is what she actually is!
That foggy evening as they drove through the kutcha road towards the venue of the party- her husband dressed in a smart tweed jacket, concentrated on the road ahead. The headlights of the car shone brightly into the night. Her face was free of makeup with a little trace of kohl in her eyes and her hair which was usually pulled back and strung in braids was left free tonight with few strands on the forehead.
As she and her husband entered the jaali kamra of the bungalow, the fragrance of the ghee lit diya and wood smoke of dhuna, welcomed them in. The soft musical flute in the background had a magnetic pull. The couple exchanged pleasantries with the host and some executives who were gathered around the bar. The mahogany bar stood in the jaali karma, overlooking the sitting room where the ladies sat smiling politely from the distance acknowledging the presence of their bada memsahib. The host called for his wife who warmly welcomed them in with folded hands and a bindi on her forehead, donning a beautiful silk mekhla-chador (traditional attire). The hostess was large built, curvy with a positive connotation. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her smile radiated happiness. Meanwhile, the bada memsahib looked around the jaali kamra which had an assortment of wrought iron furniture and some wooden chairs and a coffee table. Adding to the ambience were some healthy potted plants taking over whatever space the furniture did not. Two horais tastefully decorated the corner.
Admiring the plants, the bada memsahib made her way to the sitting room, following the hostess towards the plush three-seater sofa which was sprinkled liberally with vibrant coloured cushions. She glanced towards each and every lady, giving a warm smile to each. As she was about to slump into the sofa, in walked a slim young lad of 15-16 years of age, whom the hostess introduced as her son. He was quiet but not shy, more of a reserved person as if he had made a conscious choice to be an observer and listener. This celebration was in honour of his achievements.
As was expected of the bada memsahib, she congratulated this young son of the hosts’ on his great achievement and said few words of encouragement to him and his mother. The effect of her words was so profound that to the amazement of bada memsahib, the hostess came forward and tried to embrace the bada memsahib saying “that it is all your ashirvaad and the ashirvaad of God!” (“It’s all your blessings and the blessings of God!”). Tears of joy rolled down the cheeks of the mother. The mother was overwhelmed by the achievement of her intelligent son. The bada memsahib was not prepared for this outburst and she was caught off guard, losing her footing as the hostess tried to hug her, while she was in the process of sitting down. As a result, the plus-sized body of the hostess fell on top of her and the bada memsahib slumped on the sofa with a thud! She felt her bones, somewhat jangled, somewhat crushed.
Precisely at that moment her eyes locked in with that of her husband, who had been enjoying his scotch on the rocks, stared at them enquiringly with his mouth agape! He thought to himself "this must be a very strong spirit. My wife and the hostess are wrestling on the sofa! Or are they?!" Dazed, he walked into the sitting room and all the executives followed him in with a look of concern. The bada saab asked the hostess if she was alright. Then his gaze shifted to his wife who was mortified, frozen on the spot for a few seconds. She couldn’t believe that this had happened, but she maintained her composure and calmly she took hold of the shoulders of the hostess and made her sit next to her. But from the luminous eyes of the hostess, tears still trickled down as if she had let down her emotional defences. Though the situation was a bit comical the bada memsahib presented it in such a way to her onlookers, that she and her hostess were the stars of the incident (I did tell you about her witty presence of mind. Didn’t I?).
With a nervous laugh she glanced around the room and could see the new bride giggling, to be met with a veiled stare of another senior lady. One of the other ladies got up mumbling that she had to see to her baby who was with the aayah in the faaltu kamra. All other executives and ladies were poker-faced. The bada memsahib was impressed by the nonchalance of each of them.
In spite of everything, a sanguine grin crept on the face of the bada memsahib. She assured her husband that they were alright and these were indeed the hostess’ tears of joy. Her husband now beaming amusedly invited everyone into the sitting room. The atmosphere now was light and jovial and because of a moment like this- full of laughter, the temperature of the party rose a couple of degrees and all the executives and their wives couldn’t contain their smiles and mirth. Each one of them raised their glasses- some of them their whiskey glasses, some their champagne flute, some their beer mugs and some even raised their glasses of nimbu paani and cups of tea! Each glass was raised to toast the celebration of the achievement of the young boy and above all for the well-being of that particular garden.
Cheers!
