Tuesday crawled towards us like a slimy centipede. The thought of it reaching was disgusting, the consequences uncertain.

And too soon, it sunk it's mandibles.

Our car skid to a stop infront of the Khandakar mansion. Me and Shalik. Father said he had business. He didn't. He just wanted to remind them of their place. And mother visiting anyone was out of the question.

I stepped out into the light rain. The world smelled of fresh grass, flowers and food -lots of it. Loudspeakers somewhere in the mansion produced beats that made my heart do bunny-hops all the way over here.

Say what you will about the Khandakars, they knew how to pretty up a house. The three story tall old Palace stood over the blooming garden like a white lion over it's territory. Fairy light snaked across the patch of greenery, red and blue. They shifted and highlighted the sight Marigold, the rose, the hibiscus and other names I never bothered knowing. The house itself was wrapped in vines of fairy lights. They did something to the yellow lights vining up the white columns. They shifted in a swirling fashion that made me think of a tornado. A fountain of green fairy lights fell from the third floor balcony, swaying in the wind.

I pulled the sleeve of my tuxedo and checked the time.

Still early.

Shalik came out behind me, struggling to get a footing in her yellow Saree. She looked like a Bengali vampire, planning to hide her complexion with an obscene amount of make up. The white bely flowers on her head solidified the analogy.

"You look like a Bengali vampire planning to hide your complexion with an obscene amount of flour. The weed in your hair makes it easier to imagine."

Shalik rolled her eyes at me, "have you seen a mirror? You legit look like Frankenstein's monster, you damn lightning-struck taal gaach!"

"I put on a tuxedo. Of course I saw a mirror." I started walking towards the red carpet.

"Must've been a blurry mirror." Shalik caught up.

"At least, unlike you, I appeared on it."

"Whether a vampire appears on a mirror or not has got nothing to do with how she looks."

"But it should tell you about how your make-up looks, applied without a mirror."

"Wait," she put a hand on her cheek, "my make-up looks that bad?"

"No, it doesn't," said the voice behind us, "it looks perfect. He's just being mean as usual."

I sighed. Of course, where be my sister, there be her.

"Bilu!" Shalik let out a shrill cry meant only for little children and possessed corpses, and whirled back to hug the girl following us.

The girl, disregarding every dress code of a wedding day, wore a red women's coat and office skirt of the same color. Her long hair was tied into a tight bun with a pin running through it. She walked with booted stomping strides that should've by no means be silent, but was.

"Oh hey, it's a waiter," I snorkeled, "What's the menu tonight?"

Bilu fluttered her eyelashes, "let me see: punch in the face, punch in the gut, kick in the balls;I recommend public humiliation with this one. Vegetarian menu is step on toes and twisting fingers. What would be your order?"

"I'd settle for a kiss on the cheek."

Shalik slapped my arm on that.

"Kick in the balls with public humiliation: quadruple dosage it is." Bilu said in a honeyed voice.

"I believe it's called a serving."

"This is a dosage because it has medicinal values. Curbs the egos of pathogenic jerks."

We came to the neatly decorated gateway and halted. It arched up from the ground and met twenty feet in the air, a Chinese lantern hanging from the tip, dangling above us like the inevitable truth we faced: a friend's life was being ruined, and they're making a festival around it.

And we're having fun here.

Silenced, we walked into the party.

The red carpet led through a bustling hallway full of wandering guests and rushing hosts. The roof curved into dome, with a hanging net of yellow fairy lights making a cone with the tip of the dome at it's center, a chandelier hanging down from the tip.

An obscene amount of food was presented in long dining tables; biriyani, tanduri, Russian salad, Shrimp Vuna and other magnetic things. And boy was I iron! But the gravity of the situation kept me down.

The carpet led up to a the marriage pandal, a raised wooden stage wrapped in white carpet and bathed in floodlight. Two adorned thrones in the middle, but neither parties were present.

Bilu grabbed a dressed up lady. She looked shocked, and horrified, and then realized Bilu was a girl.

"Excuse me," Bilu spoke over the background noise, "do you know where the bride is?"

"Ah, I-" the woman fumbled, "she's in the back room, applying make-up."

"Where?" Bilu demanded.

The woman pointed at a hallway and said, "go right and then three doors to the left."

Bilu left without thanking, so Shalik buffered in and said, "Thank you!"

"Wait," said the woman, "she's getting ready. Don't disturb."

But of course, we didn't listen.

I reached the room first with leaping steps, the two tiny humans scurrying behind me. I turned the knob and stepped in.... to the door.

The door was locked.

Figures.

I knocked. The tiny humans caught up with me. Shalik gave me the stink eye. Bilu gave me the stink nose.

"Who?" Asked a faint noise from inside.

"Us," said Shalik.

There was a little clicking noise from inside and Reshma opened the door.

She looked insanely beautiful. It was makeup done right. The tiny blushes on her cheek looked natural, like they would on a girl in a painting. She was in a short red blouse and petticoat of the same color, which, on retrospect, isn't really the perfectly appropriate dress to wear in front of the opposite gender. She didn't look like she cared, though.

In her defense, she was crying.

She stared at me and hesitated for a second, perhaps aware of what she wore. Then she gazed behind me and moved aside to let us in the brightly lit parlour room.

It was built like a prison. A prison with a cosmetic shop and air conditioning in it, but a prison. With low ceilings, a single bed, and a small window high up in the wall. Blaring florescent panels were set above a wide mirror that dominated half of the right side wall. It was tilted down, so our reflections looked above us.

Reshma pulled a yellow scarf from a cloth pile and draped it over her chest. Then she grabbed a tissue paper and started wiping her eyes.

"Sorry, make-up got in my eye."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Bilu nodded furiously, "Absolutely. No doubt about it. Why will we ever think otherwise?"

"I-" Reshma bit her lip, "I don't have a problem with this marriage."

We all gave her a flat stare.

"It was grandfather's decision," Reshma stammered, "and he decides what's better for me and the family -"

"If your grandfather is that concerned about your marriage," Shalik said nonchalantly, "why doesn't he marry you himself?"

Reshma opened her mouth, closed it, and then laughed nervously, "what?"

"I mean, if he's that concerned about your wellfare, he'd keep you close, wouldn't he?"

"You're not making sense-"

"Is your grandfather?" Shalik had entered the dragon; there was no stopping her, "tell me what you know about the person you're getting married to."

"I -" Reshma slumped, "He's the DC of Khalilpur City Council. Owns two casinos; one at Motijheel, one at Nawakhali. He married three times before. One of his wives is divorced. He's fifty four."

We stared down at her. Hard.

"What else?" Reshma asked.

"Reshma," Bilu leaned towards her, "what's his name?"

"What do you mean?" Reshma looked bewildered.

"What's the name of the person you're about to marry?"

"I -" Reshma shook her head, "his name is... I don't know. I have to learn it." She sighed, "look, this doesn't prove anything. His name isn't important. Grandfather chose a good man for me. He'd provide for me and I'll be happy with that. That way there'll be less problem for both families."

Shalik turned to me and nodded.

I took a deep breath, and let my thoughts flow.

"This guy owns two casinos. He's a gambler. Not just any gambler, he's a gambler who cheats. He'll give you ten five taka notes and take a hundred taka note from your pocket. He doesn't make a big bet unless he's absolutely certain he'll make big cash out of it -"

"Grandfather has cash," Reshma interrupted me, "He made this huge occasion with cash."

"The question isn't whether or not your grandfather has cash, it's whether or not he has cash for you. You're right, this is a huge occasion, but is it really for you?"

"W-What do you mean?" Reshma stuttered, "it's m-my wedding!"

"What if I said it's not?" Bilu butted in, "what if I say that this is just his way of getting a lot of important people together, and making a strong, companionable impression on them?"

"What important people?" Reshma's throat was catching. She knew. I looked at Bilu and we both nodded.

"How about the successors of most of the active gangs operating in southwestern Bengal?" Bilu asked.

"Look, I -"

"Your grandfather is a clever man," I picked up where I left, "I daresay, cleverer than this Khalilpur DC. I don't know what his plan is, but we can safely say that your grandfather can sniff him out exploiting your relations; or worse, your grandfather plans on ripping him off from the start. And of course, you can forget about your dream of becoming a doctor. He's not one to waste money on a medical college."

"Wait, I can still study—"

"This DC is a gambler. Do you think that once he's lost in a big bet, he's still gonna bet on the same thing? Do you really think you'd still be profitable to him?"

Reshma was quiet for about ten seconds. Her chest heaved up and down with deep breaths. When she spoke, her voice was tiny, "No."

"He has divorced a wife. Think about that."

Shalik picked up from where I left, "Here's what I say will happen. For the first six months, you're gonna get pampered. They're gonna attend to your every need. The servants will foam from their mouth at your word. Our DC sahib will give you all the attention you want. Hey, he might even buy you some books, drive you to school, get you some private tutors, even. Why not? You're the goose that lays the golden egg."

Reshma was silent.

"Over the next six months, things start to get colder. Your grandfather knows he's being exploited, and he's put an stop to it. Your husband is patient, but it's wearing out."

Reshma dropped her face in her palm and rocked slowly. But Shalik was merciless as always.

"Two months into the next year, you're suddenly pregnant. You remember the night it happened, but your husband denies it. The doctor report comes in, and to your shock it's some random male servant in the house, who you didn't even know existed before this. Do you know what'll happen then, Reshma?"

Reshma said nothing.

"He won't divorce you. Divorcing you would require too much money. He'll talak you. Grandfather will send you a letter to say that he won't support a girl like you. Do you know where you'll end up?"

Reshma nodded slowly, as if afraid her neck will snap if she moved too quickly.

"Is that where you want to end up? Is that where you want your child to grow up?"

Reshma remained silent, but Shalik didn't.

"Answer me! What if it's a girl? What if she has your eyes, your skin? You think they'll leave her be? You may stay all diligent and pure, but do you think she won't get sucked in the world around her? Do you want your daughter to become a prostitute? Do you want your son to become a murderer?"

"Okay," Reshma finally spoke, "I get it!"

Shalik scrilled, "Oh, but I don't think you do! Because what it looks to me is that you're still sucking up to that bastard of a grandfather of yours!"

"Hey, leave grandfather out of this!"

"Of course, of course!" Shalik giggled, "He's only looking out for his children. The way every parent should! The one who's to blame is you, you spineless bi— "

"Shalik," Bilu clasped her shoulders, "that's enough. She gets it."

Shalik tensed and I could read the words "fuck off" at the tip of her tongue. Then she slumped down and let a steaming breath out.

We stood there in post-nuclear silence. Reshma's scarf had fallen off.

"Why?" Reshma looked up after a decade, and we all saw the tears running down her eyes, "what use is telling me this? The marriage is gonna happen no matter what I think."

And now, we had no answers.

"It's not like I can run. If I run, it'll be like spitting on grandfather's face, infront of hundreds of would-be leaders of the gangs. He'll hunt me down to the end of the world, just to show that he can."

"You can run," Bilu and I said at the same time. I shrugged towards Bilu, signalling her to go first.

"We could arrange you to be added into a travelling doctors camp. Maybe a nurse. New identity. Two weeks training," Bilu bit her lip, "No home, though. Can you handle that?"

Reshma tilted her head, a weak assertion.

I went next, "Or, we could smuggle you out the border. You'll be doing manual labor; construction, farmhands, cook in an Assamese hotel. It'll be harder than a travelling nurse, but you'll be further away from your grandfather."

"I'll-" and she didn't get to think about it.

"Reshma, the bridegroom is-"the dressed up woman from earlier rushed through the door, "oh."

She looked at Reshma, at what she wore, and her crying state, and then at me. She narrowed her eyes.

Then she looked at Reshma, "Reshma, your would-be husband is here. Say goodbye to your friends."

It was, obviously, directed at us. Like kites with their strings cut, we floated out of the room.

"What now?" I asked.

Bilu looked up at the center of the dome, "Now we pray."

(Taal gaach:

Its considered a tall tree. You call someone taal gaach when they're obscenely tall)