Never serious on issues like what to wear when, which etiquettes to observe when guests are home, my parents were ever critical of my ways. They believed I was slacking in several areas that warranted attention, and proclaimed that I shall sure fail in taking proper care of my just-wed wife, who was new to Delhi, in October 1984. So, my father announced his intent of escorting the duo to Bhopal, my work place, to assure that the living conditions are in order. The new entrant to our family should not be put to avoidable inconveniences, he said. I asked him to send my brother-in-law instead, and requested him to come to Bhopal a day or two later, so that I could have a breathing time to set up a semblance of order. But he did not accept it.
Before proceeding on a month-long leave for my marriage in Delhi, I could not find a suitable accommodation. My three-member team took up this responsibility and advised me to leave carefree. It was decided that a suitable house shall be rented and all my belongings, lying in two different locations, shall be assembled at the new abode. Further, someone shall be present with the keys of the new house at the appointed date and time at the railway station on our return. In that pre-mobile phone era, when landline phones were also scarce, I had conveyed the details of my arrival at Bhopal by post, the norm of the day.
As we came out of the train at the Bhopal station, it was ‘wonderful, wondrous beautiful’ scene as the bard said. Just like a scene in the movies, five of my colleagues each with a garland warmly welcomed us, one of them with a two-year-old baby hanging on his shoulder. Soon, sweets and tea were served interspersed with cordial verbal exchange. Before that momentous bliss or afterwards till date, that overwhelming exhilaration remains unmatched. For the reason that it was totally unexpected or unimagined or otherwise, the elation was more than equivalent to the one I derived at the actual marriage altar a fortnight ago.
As for the home we were anxious about, we were told that we could shift to the new place only after the whitewash was completed—one day later. Until then we would stay in either of two friends’ house, as both were out of town. The information served as handy fuel and fodder for my father to hurl a volley of sarcasms at my devil-may-care stance in our native Garhwali language that none could decipher. Sweet moments often come tinged with bitterness, I consoled myself.