We drifted around the main hall, itching to do something, picking up food every once in two while.
After half an hour, we sat on a table.

"Hey," Bilu proposed, "let's start a fire."

A bold spirited proposition, but I shook my head, "Too many people in the way. Plus, the parlour is in a bad position. Reshma can't get out."

"Well," Bilu pouted, "we could make smoke."

"That'll cause confusion, but it won't stop the engagement."

"Stop it, guys," Shalik said from between her fingers, "It's no use. Reshma is over."

"Baal!" Bilu threw her hand up, "you're giving up too fast! Do something, Rashed!"

"Why do I have to do something?"

"Cause you got a bike! Do some crazy Arnold Schwadinger stunt!"

"I don't know any Arnold Schwadinger stunt!"

"AGH!" Bilu flopped down on the table.

After a second of consideration, I flopped down and hugged the table too.

Table is love. Table is life.

"Excuse me, can I sit on this table?"

My first reaction was to hiss and say No! But I managed to hold back the beast and lifted an eye to look. Bilu grunted a non-binary answer.

The interrogator was a boy almost six inches shorter than me, but with a stocky build to cover for it. He wore a geometrically embroidered orange Punjabi and he wore it well. There was a long, healing scar on the left side of his forehead.

"Hi," he spoke smoothly enough that it gave away his nervousness, "There was an empty seat, so I was wondering if..."

"Sit," said I, not wanting to be disturbed in my wallowing.

Turns out, he had every intention of disturbing my wallowing.

"Ah," he said, sitting down facing me, "I wanted to apologize for something."

For disturbing me? No apology was enough.

"You're forgiven," I answered.

He definitely wasn't expecting that. He hesitated, and then asked, "oh, so you knew?"

"No," I rolled to his opposite side, "But I don't wanna."

He stayed silent for a few seconds, which was apparently his limit.

"So.. I, uh, I meant, um," he awkwardly, and needlessly, and intrusively, fumbled with words, "we bumped into each other the other day. At Shamshir's warehouse."

Oh?

In that case, didn't I owe him an apology too? I did almost get him killed.

I peeked at him over my arm. He looked slightly embarrassed, leaning forward on his seat like a kicked son of a bitch. Uncut hair came down to his forehead. He was fair. Almost as fair as Shalik.

Now, I wouldn't say that he didn't belong in a fight; his folded hands showed some interesting bulges under his Punjabi sleeves. But just... You couldn't make a goon out of this guy. What was he doing in that warehouse?

"Yeah, sorry," I grumbled, "Almost got you killed."

"No!" He snapped, "I mean, you saved my life."

"After almost getting you killed."

"Well, I almost got you killed, not you me."

"I was running while looking backward. I bumped into you."

"Well, so was I," he huffed, puffing up his cheeks. It made him look like a toad.

Just who was this guy?

I mean, despite my kind, sympathetic, reasonable and diligently responsible charisma, I was the successor of a major gang. I wouldn't, but I can get him killed for bumping into me. Who bumps into a mad dog and comes back to apologise for stepping on its tail?

Either He's got guts, or he is a complete dumbass.

Whichever the case, he's a long long way from home.

Bilu suddenly stood up, "I need to use the restroom." And she trotted away to grab someone.

I shifted my attention back to him.

"Who're you, buddy?"

"What?" He was startled. Even though he was looking at me, he was startled. Bad in a fight, "I am, uh, Payesh."

I blinked,"Your name is Payesh?"

"Uh," he ruffled his own hair, "yes."

"Is there a history?"

"No, my mom just liked Payesh."

"Oh. I didn't mean your name, though," I sat up, my heart breaking for the table's love, "You need to know certain people to attend these parties. Who do you know?"

He looked at me for a second, "My older brother is getting mentored by Jhanda Guru. So we both got invited."

O~h.

So he's here as someone's entertainment.

It also explained what he was doing in that warehouse. Jhanda Guru and my father shared territory: the gas station of Damriganj. It wasn't rare for them to share reinforcments. Old man Jhanda had no sons, so it only made sense he'd train a successor.

I nodded and went back to the table. Maybe knowing him will be beneficial for the future, but I didn't feel like politics.

Payesh rocked back and forth in his seat for a few seconds. Then he looked up at the dome, "So, which side are you from?"

Does this child have an itch in his vocal cord?

"Hm?"

"Are you from the bride side or the bridegroom side?"

"Bride."

"Oh," He copied me and slumped down on the table. Stealing bastard, "The bride looked young."

"Sixteen," I grumbled.

"Wait," He said cartoonishly, "Isn't that illegal?"

I lifted my head to give him a look. Must've been something 'cause he shrunk. Dumbass.

He stayed silent after that. For almost twenty seconds. It was a record.

"So, what did you- oh, look, the bridegroom is here."

Me and Shalik lifted our head to look.

An amoebic cluster of people entered through the front door, buzzing and chattering made up of Men and boys in Punjabi and girls and women in saree. There was a topor in the middle but the head underneath wasn't visible.

Who wears a topor at his engagement party?

The cluster of people slowly cleared as it made it's way to the stage, raining down torrentially on the food tables. Must've been a long ride.

We could see the bridegroom. He looked like our physical Ed teacher with a spilling pouch that quivered as he rose up the pandal. The golden embroidery of his white Punjabi stuck itself to his smile, which kept getting wider. He walked to the double throne and took a seat. The photographers started a miniature thunderstorm. Bilu wasn't there yet.

Then people parted again, and Reshma came out. She was in full wedding attire; Red Saree, and an obscene amount of jewelry. Under the nose piercing, the Ear piercing and the make-up, there was no expression. Her aunt held her hand, making sure she doesn't trip on the dress.

Watching her come forth, the bridegroom slowly stood up, and opened his arms.

Reshma climbed the pandal up at snail's pace and walked into the man's arms. The man hugged her, a little tighter than is appropriate infront of a crowd, for a little longer than is comfortable for any watcher. The cameras flashed away with the clapping and the cheers that suddenly erupted. They both took their seats.

People zeroed in on them from all direction. DC put a hand around Reshma's shoulders and Reshma forced a smile as everyone trampled each other to take a picture with them. Someone called on Payesh and he scurried away. Minutes later, the Kazi came, and the declaration of engagement was signed.

We watched from a distance. And we knew, dreams burn up in camera flashes.

(Payesh:

Its a sweet, milk and rice based Bengali dish. You can add nuts and dried grapes.( And yes ExperimentalHuman , it can be done with almond milk)

Topor:

It's a cloth crown a Bengali bridegroom wears on his wedding.

Bengali Women's Wedding Dress:

As I said, obscene amount of jewelry. To think someone can look forward to this. 😵😵)