Pavitra was locked away in the room with her tittering friends who were given the new responsibility of dressing her up for the reception. I had been a victim of their experimentation, my hair combed into fifty different absurd buns and braids medusa-like before they let my hair loose. The plain, straight strands limply fell down my back like a horsetail (My aunt passing by, managed to attach another string of flowers to my hair). When the mischievous eyes of the girls landed on the makeup kit and my clean face, I got up and fled the scene.

I didn't worry leaving my sister's make-up to the manicured hands of her friends since each one of them could easily contest to be the bride of this ceremony with their stylish sarees and gowns and salwars and what not.

I was wearing a silk salwar suit which consisted of a purple top and pyjamas secured with a cord that dug painfully in the softness of my stomach. A light dupatta rested on my shoulder, slipping and dragging the mud with it on the ground till I pulled it up again. And again and again. The intricate embroidery around the collar was golden and I could go without strangling myself with a necklace. Still, my mum had persuaded me to wear one (which was certain to give me rashes later). One couldn't see a hint of flesh on my neck, it was a gold mine there.

I tiredly pulled my dupatta for the hundredth time after a boisterous kid had stepped on it. I sauntered downstairs towards the reception hall in my golden sandals and halted when I could see some of my relatives in the throng of people bustling in. The saccharine smiles of them as they hugged my parents who served as mirrors, reflecting the same smiles and words fascinated me. I saw my dad's energy heightening when the relatives from whom he had borrowed money for this wedding arrived, his feigned smile broadening. He abandoned the spot by the door of the hall and rushed towards the expensive car of those relatives like a watchman in need of 'chai paani.' I half-expected him to open the door of the car, but the relatives had already stepped out.

The entire place was lavishly adorned with a long red carpet, exotic flowers in a gigantic wreath (with the obvious, Pavitra Weds Rajesh in a heart sticker) and a superfluous fountain with LED lights around which the kids flocked. They clandestinely dipped the tips of their fingers, knowing that it was against decorum to play with that water. The sound of the fountain urged me to pee and just as I was leaving in search of a washroom, my father spotted me. He tapped on his watch, indicating that he was waiting for my sister.

I was going to mouth some excuse when more people poured in and embraced and chatted with my parents. Again, I thought of heading towards the washroom, but my gaze drifted towards a figure and remained fixed there in wonder like a baby's unswerving gaze towards a spark of light. Lila walked in with her mother, her steps light like a small bird's and a charming smile gracing her pink lips. Droplets of water from the fountain suddenly sprayed on her arm, first shocking her, then causing her to burst into giggles. From the corners of my eyes, I saw some people turning to locate this source of a mirthful sound and once they did, they didn't look away.

Lila's face was radiant when she laughed, her body dressed in a pistachio coloured lehnga trembling from laughter. The dress was plainer than the ostentatious ones around her. She wore a set of diamond jewellery. A chain rested on top of her prominent collarbones and the square neckline of her sleeveless lehnga top gave her a sophisticated look.

It was when she had advanced with her mother (visibly looking a bit lost like a damsel in distress) and waited behind the crowd of people that my parents attended to, I caught myself in this strange reverie and even stranger, smiling. Quickly, I took a couple of steps forward and felt the jasmine flowers brush against my ears. While she was dressed like a maharani, I was looking like a peasant trying hard during Diwali. I pulled the flowers out of my hair, the fastened bobby pins tearing a good chunk of my hair and bringing tears in my eyes.

The mother-daughter duo's gaze zeroed on me and I hurriedly dropped the flowers entangled with my torn hair, stamping it with my heels.

"Tulsi, there you are!" Her mother who was wrapped in a chic cream coloured saree beamed at me, her dark lipstick revealing her perfectly aligned teeth. Both of them were shorter than me. Her mother was the shortest who reached till my chin when she hugged me. When she parted, I looked at Lila and raised my eyebrows. This made her giggle as she held the skirt of her lehnga and playfully swayed it, making me suppress my laughter.

Giggly. That was the first word which popped into someone's mind when they thought of Lila. Like Gandhi and non-violence. Lila was always giggling at something, everything and everyone amused her and she amused everyone. She wasn't frivolous like I had once incorrectly judged her to be. Underneath all the childishness, she had a wicked sense of humour.

"You look pretty!" She said, then briefly did a strangling action (in reference to the necklace suffocating me). That earned a gentle slap on her arm from her mother l and she burst into fresh giggles.

Her joy was infectious which transmogrified her quiescent features into that of a lively puppy's. Paler than me in complexion, her eyebrows were unarched like two straight pencil strokes. Her round eyes were black and gleaming from her brimming joy. Her downward turned lips were always stretched into an attractive, gay grin. She had a slight frizz in her wavy hair which appeared an amber colour under the sunlight. Today, her hair was neatly straightened which somehow made Lila, less Lila.

"Aye, Lila's mother!" My parents called out sprightly, approaching us and greeting her. "Lila's father didn't come?"

"Oh, he couldn't. He had some work," her mother said, hugging my mother. Lila's father owned and managed a textile company where my sister worked in the sales department. All in all, my parents revered Lila's parents because they were the boss of their daughter and rich. Filthy rich. This class difference barely affected Lila's treatment towards me, but somehow, I was constantly reminded of that every time I stepped into her posh apartment. It also became the subject of some of our jokes.

For example, now as our parents were engaged in a small-talk about their health, Lila separated from the group and I pointed out one of my uncles' from whom we had borrowed money for the wedding. He was rubbing his pot-belly while scrutinizing the large vessels of steaming food being prepared. Some delicious food were kept closed on the buffet counter and as we watched, he furtively lifted the lid and popped a gulab jamun in his mouth. Then intertwining his hands behind his back, he walked off as if pretending that his greed didn't exist.

Lila's body shook with laughter as she tried to not make any noise, her soft head leaning against my shoulder and one hand grasping my arm, the other covering her mouth like she usually did when she laughed in public. My heart started beating like a tormented prisoner rattling the prison bars. Her subtle woody scent, the cologne of her father's which she loved and used daily, filled my nose. Her hair tickled my neck. The prisoner inside me wanted to break free, but couldn't, the torture intensifed and confused me. I stiffly stepped away and she amusingly raised her head, her laughter not ceasing.

* * *

Glossary :

Salwar Kameez- a pair of light, loose, pleated trousers, usually tapering to a tight fit around the ankles, worn by women from South Asia typically with a kameez (the two together is a salwar kameez ).

Dupatta- a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez, by women from South Asia.

Chai paani- referring to money that people shrewdly ask from their employers to buy "tea" (but not really tea).

Maharani- a queen.

Diwali- the Indian festival of lights, usually lasting five days.

Gulab Jamun- a famous Indian sweet.

(tap on the little star if you're liking this story :))