A Different Honeymoon

“Honey!” she said tenderly as she entwined her slender fingers into mine. “Tell me, no, where are we going for the honey moon?” Like many other young, dreamy-eyed couples waiting desperately to tie the knot, we were at the sea beach locked in each other’s arms, while eagerly counting days to the big event and the honeymoon to follow.  Naturally, we wanted to plan it all very carefully in every detail--- especially, in view of my finances not being exactly encouraging, I had to make all my lavish plans very cautiously.  “Tell me, Dear, where would YOU like to go for the honeymoon?” I countered benignly while keeping my fingers crossed and heaved a big sigh of relief when she opted, thank God, for Gulmarg in Kashmir and not some exotic place like Rome or Honolulu! However, all the same I was in real hot soup. For, with my wallet nearly empty, I knew I’d have to either rob the nearest bank or shock my future wife on the eve of her marriage by revealing the truth about my current financial status.

                In such difficult situations, I usually turned to my friend, philosopher and guide, Simon D’Souza, a very resourceful soul, who always had ready solutions for all sticky problems in life. But, when I asked him for a small loan, the guy gave me a big sermon. “First of all” he said “Remember all girls are little starry-eyed and have their own lofty, romantic ideas about honeymoon and if you spoil them for her, then you had it for the rest of your life. So, be considerate to your wife’s wishes; it’s better to have a short and cheap honeymoon than no honeymoon at all, though a very long one runs the risk of being too boring. Honeymoon is like the anesthesia that a surgeon uses to protect you from pain and fear during a basically scary and risky operation that, we know, in the long run is for your own good. It does not have to be a grand seven day package tour of Europe or the Orient. One can enjoy it even if it’s just a weekend in a small, seaside cottage in Alibag! These days, you can rent a shabby, little room or cottage at a cheap rate with bed, breakfast and a sumptuous Malwani meal with spicy, fish curry. After all, what else does one need for a decent honeymoon but a little privacy and solitude to get to know each other better and enjoy some much needed togetherness? You will be surprised how much love you can pack into a weekend, not far from your home! ”   

  

      So, finally, we decided on the two cities of Bangalore and Mysore as our honeymoon destinations. With cash gifts we were certain to get at the wedding, I thought, we might just as well manage to ‘break-even’ in this enterprise. Now, all that remained was to convince my much disheartened fiancée that this was a small compromise one would have to make for the sake of some quality time to share alone with your beloved; moreover, Kashmir was not cancelled for good, but only postponed to brighter times in the future. Besides, was it not true that our entire life was going to be just one, big, prolonged honeymoon! Though reluctant at first, Kumud finally gave in to my entreaties. The next part of the battle was to make my father-in-law agree to delete the “No-Gifts-Please” notification from the invitation cards!!  While making the hotel reservations, I was particular to let them know that we were a newly married couple on our honeymoon, hoping against hope that they might just as well offer some promotional concession like “a free, extra night  for the cost of two”!    

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              After the Wedding Reception was over, we returned late in the night to Kumud’s parent’s place in Dadar. While everyone was keen on unwrapping and seeing the various gifts we had received, I for one was eagerly waiting to savor the ‘best wedding gift from God’! However, I was given to understand that there would be no filmy style ‘Suhag Raat’ with the bashful bride walking in with a glass of milk and the groom gently raising the ‘Ghungat’ to reveal the beautiful face that would launch a thousand ship etc.  For one thing, they don’t make brides bashful anymore and for another, my mother-in-law had already decreed that a proper ‘safe distance’ had to be maintained at all costs between the main protagonists until some Puja or some such thing was performed the next morning. In any case, with half a dozen guests floating around in the house, what possibly can a newly married couple accomplish within the confines of a 1-BHK flat in Mumbai, except stealing some meaningful glances at each other? But, my father-in-law, Capt. Rao must have been a real romantic in his own younger days, else he wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths as to make arrangements for us in the neighbor’s vacant flat. Before we had returned from the marriage hall, one enterprising brother-in-law of mine had already got the flat done up and the bed decked up with flowers and spray of an exotic perfume! Somewhere deep down in my mind, I felt very happy at the prospect of what was going to be a very memorable night. As we bid goodnight to everyone and were about to leave, Kumud asked her brother for the keys to the flat and suddenly, he turned pale like a ghost! In his excitement, it seems, he had pulled the doors shut behind him leaving the keys inside. The way of man is not in his own hands. For, man proposes but, God disposes.      

                                           ********** x **********

            We were about to take off on our honeymoon completely oblivious of what was in store for us during the next ten happiest days of our life. Ajit, the youngest of my four brother-in-laws, who was only eleven years old then, had fetched the taxi for us and had firmly settled himself in the back-seat waiting for his dear ‘Babyakka’ in the happy misconception that he too was coming with us to Bangalore. My father-in-law was already in the front-seat and as Kumud got into the back of the car, her grandmother, entered through the other door with a small airbag in her hand and sat smugly next to her favorite granddaughter. In a slightly hushed tone, I asked my wife, “Don’t tell me, your grandmother is also coming with us to Mysore!”  “Don’t be silly!” said Kumud, a little amused. “We are just dropping her home on our way at Grant Road.”

“Oh, I see! I thought your mother was sending her as your chaperone.”

The taxi was full and Sardarji, the driver started the ignition. I was still standing on the footpath with a bag in my hand and when they were about to embark, I shouted almost in panic, “Hey! Wait a minute. How can you go on this trip without me? It takes two to make a honeymoon, you know.”

                When we landed at Victoria Terminus, our train was about to leave. In the hurly burly of loading the luggage, locating our seats, saying ‘good bye’ and so on, no one had noticed that Kumud’s youngest brother, Ajit had gone missing. Lo, there was panic again and everyone started looking around for him and found him sitting calmly next to a smiling young man who, I thought, I had met somewhere very recently. Ajit, however, was refusing to budge from his seat as he was firm in his resolve to accompany us all the way to Bangaluru! But, Kumud somehow managed to convince him and succeeded in cajoling him to go home “like a good boy” but only after he had elicited a promise from her that we would definitely take him along the next time. God, I thought, the lady was making promises for the next honeymoon when even the first one was still nowhere in sight! 

              The young man in front of me was still smiling sheepishly at me. “Don’t you remember me?” he said at last. “I am Raja Ketkar, Sheelu Srinivasan’s fiancé. We had met other day at your Wedding, remember? ….. So, going for honeymoon, are you? Where’re you going by the way, Mysore or Ooty?  These days, every Tom, Dick and Harry goes to Mysore. Can’t blame them, you know. It’s the only place middle-class people like us can afford. I am also getting married next month and both of you must surely come, please.” Then, after a slight pause, as if he had remembered something important he winked at me and added, “One more thing. Please don’t forget what you promised me the other day. We will keep in touch, okay? ” Luckily, the train soon picked up speed and the guy started dozing in his seat. Kumud, who was waiting impatiently for just such an opportunity asked me what it, was that I had promised him. I told her I had no idea, but, whatever it was it was I was not going to oblige.

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                It was just early dawn when our train chugged into the sleepy town of Bangalore, with birds chirping and cocks crowing somewhere in the far distance; only a few horse-driven carts, called Tongas and milk vendors riding on bicycles could be seen on the roads. After coming out of the railway station, we hired a Tonga to go to Hotel Woodlands. At the check-in counter, we had a surprise waiting for us; someone had already booked one room for us two days earlier! Just as I was wondering who could be this mysterious man who had done the favor, a puny little man, probably in his late thirties, came forward with folded hands and a broad grin on his face and said, “I’m Murlidhar Joshi working in your father’s office, National Pharmacies Limited ----I’m working as the manager in their Mysore branch. When I got the letter from ‘boss’ that his son is coming here with wife, I did not wait even one minute and came down here straight to book a room in the best hotel for you. Today, I am what I am only because of your father, Sir. Err …hope you’ll like the room, Sir. I took great care to select the best room for you with a nice view -- you can actually see the backside of Lalit Mahal from your window.” So saying, he picked up our suitcases himself and escorted us to our room with the ‘best view’ which turned out to be the royal cowshed behind the palace, with its all-pervasive aroma of animal poop filling the air! But, the room itself was neat and tidy and esthetically done up with a classic painting of Radha-Krishna in erotic pose hanging on the wall!!

So, some thirty six hours after the wedding, we had found at last some free time and solitude for ourselves. I suddenly felt a whiff of inspiration in the air and I thought it was high time we should at least open and have a cursory look at God’s gift, but, before I could even think of it, there was a light knock on the door and standing there in the doorway was this smart looking bell-boy with an impish smile. “Room Service, Sir” he said and handed us our ‘welcome drink with compliments of Woodland Hotel, “Where would you like your breakfast served, Sir, here or downstairs in the common Dining Hall?”

   After the breakfast, Kumud wanted to take a stroll in the beautiful garden and look at the roses whereas I was of the opinion that we should return to our room and attend to more important things like most honeymooners generally do. But the crux of the problem was that I didn’t know how to broach the subject and where to begin. I took a deep breath and told Kumud, “Let’s go back to our room. There’s something interesting I want to show you”. When we reached the room, Kumud said, “I know what you’re going to show me!  Well, it must be God’s Gift, isn’t it? What is it, anyway?”

       

           “Come, sit here by my side and I will show you, Dear.” I said as I gently pulled her by my side and she slowly sank into the cozy, velvety double-bed. “No, not now --not in broad daylight!” said Kumud in feigned anger rising quickly to her feet. “Well, I only wanted to read a book together with you and for that, we will need some good light, I think.” I said coolly. “What book? You don’t mean that ancient porn, written by Vatsyayana or someone, do you?” she asked me quite seriously and I felt happy that, at least, our conversation was going in the right direction. “Well, it’s a book for newlyweds, ‘How to Be Happy Though Married”. It gives many practical tips for leading a happy married life. Well, you know someone has said that a beautiful girl is also like a good book – once you start reading it, you can’t put it down till you reach the end, when though you may feel bit exhausted, you don’t want to stop because it’s such an exhilarating experience.” Just then, there was a thud on the door and cursing under my breath for this most untimely and not-so-welcome an interruption, I got up and opened the door. 

        It was our ever-smiling friend, Mr. Murlidhar Joshi accompanied this time by his family. “Oh! It’s our great Murli Manohar Joshi! But, what’re you doing here, Mr. Joshi, instead of campaigning for Jan Sangh in Rai Bareilly?” I said welcoming him inside. “No, no!  Not Murli Manohar, it’s just Murlidhar Joshi. Ha, ha! I liked your humorous nature, though. By the way, Sir, this is my wife, Sunita and two children, Rohan and Shakuntala. But, we call her by her pet name, Chingi. Well, we thought you might like to do some sight-seeing today. I can take you round the city, Sir and show you some of the important places of historic interest. My wife said she has also not seen them as yet and so, I thought I will bring them along too. I hope you won’t mind, Sir”

        

       We then roamed in the city seeing Vishwesharaya Technological Museum, Cubbin Park, Lal Baug etc and returned very tired to the hotel late in the evening. We requested Mr. Joshi and his family to join us for dinner, which he readily agreed. After dinner, when we were just enjoying our dessert in the lounge, a short, well-dressed man walked in and started making polite enquiries about food, our well-being and other arrangements in the hotel etc. From his pleasing, sophisticated manners and polite way of speaking, I could rightly guess that he was the hotel manager, Mr. Namboodri. Just as he was leaving, however, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, turned back and asked me what then seemed like an innocent question: “Mr. Hattangadi, have we not met somewhere before? Yes, I remember now. I think you were here three years back for our hotel’s Silver Jubilee. Right? ” I looked at my wife who was smiling good-naturedly with a slightly amused look on her face, as I coolly replied: “No, not right at all, Mr. Namboodri. I think you’re making a mistake. It must be someone else. This is my first visit to Bangalore, you know.” “No, Mr. Hattanagdi.  I’m sure you were the one. If I am not mistaken, I think, only the madam who was then with you was probably a different person! Because, I think, she was slightly taller and fairer in complexion.” said the manager. A warning bell rang deafeningly in my ears and I realized that I just couldn’t afford to allow this nonsense to continue any longer. I sprang to my feet shouting, “Just, what the hell, are you talking about, Mister? We’re a three-day-old, married couple and we are here in this hotel for our honeymoon and you have the temerity to suggest I was here before with another woman.”  “Yes, Sir. I am quite certain about it. Yes, I remember now. You had with you even your three year old son and one more was expected!”

   Kumud, who was a mute witness to all these goings-on, suddenly got up fuming with rage and walked out in a huff without even a single word. Oh, there goes my Honeymoon, I thought, even before it had started thanks to Mr. Namboodri! “See what you’ve done, Mister? --- Oh, No! Kumud, please wait for me. Please don’t go away leaving me like this.” In a desperate attempt to save my marriage, I ran after her pleading my innocence. I told her that I was shocked myself at the sudden turn of events. “Don’t believe a word of what he’s saying, dear. This guy is either drunk or has gone nuts! I swear I have never seen this man before, nor I have ever been married to any other woman. I have never come to Bangalore before, let alone stay in this hotel. Look, why are you packing your suitcases?  Look, Kumud -----”

            “Stop there, you cheat and double-cross! Don’t you dare even touch me.” shouted Kumud now almost in tears. “I never imagined you being a married man and also a father of two kids! Tomorrow, take me back to Mumbai. I will tell Papa everything. He will teach you a good lesson. He will take you to court for cheating and bigamy and see that you’re punished, neat and proper.” “Please Honey! Why don’t you understand? Obviously, this man, Namboodri is mistaking me for somebody else who, believe me, was not me. Toh mee navhech! ”

                Naturally, I had to spend the whole night shivering on a sofa out there in the lounge. I had no other alternative, until and unless I could furnish some tangible proof about my innocence and bona fides! But, for that, I would have to wait until the next day to meet the root cause of this problem, Mr. Namboodri and sort out the mess with him, once and for all. However, when I met him early next morning, at first he stuck to his story and kept insisting that he had met me in the very same hotel in 1957 and then, as if he had suddenly remembered something, he rushed into his office and returned immediately with a thick album of photographs, taken during the ‘Silver Jubilee’ celebrations. He said he was certain to find at least one photo in there that would prove his stand and indeed after some searching he did produce a photograph, with a victorious smirk on his face. I almost snatched the photograph from his hand, saw it and then ran upstairs straight to show it to my doubting wife. “Just as I told you, Kumud! See, I have been cleared of all the charges. I was telling you it was not me but some other bloke. It was my elder brother, Dada who had stayed here in Woodlands for four days in 1957, along with Vahini and their son, Arun. You see, they had come here to attend our cousin, Medha’s marriage and afterwards, before returning to Mumbai, they had taken a four day break! ”

            

            Having placated my wife and all her doubts about my fidelity allayed, I could breathe a sigh of relief. I even thought the way was now clear for the long pending, Opening of God’s Gift. But, you must have it in your destiny first, else it’s either a flop or postponed again. Presently, someone started banging on the door repeatedly as if the building was on fire! Making a mental note not to forget asking the Manager to provide us with a “Please Do Not Disturb” sign to be hung on the door, I went and opened it. It was Mr. Murlidhar Joshi again who had come with his wife and three year old daughter, Chingi who was crying inconsolably. It seems, she had been throwing tantrums all evening as she wanted to sleep with her favorite Kumudaunty in spite of her parent’s entreaties and all out efforts to the contrary. When she saw Kumud, she calmed down a little and leaped into her open arms. She clung to Kumud like a child clings to her mother and refused to go back with her own parents. We told Joshi’s that it was perfectly alright with us if they let the child sleep with us for the night and soon, Chingi was dancing with joy all over our bed. We had no other go but to give in to the child’s wishes and let her sleep in our bed, comfortably ensconced between the two of us.                   

              

                On the eve of our departure from Mysore, I was just sitting in the balcony turning over in my mind events of the last few days. Right since our wedding, I found that some or other stumbling block kept us away from the unveiling of ‘God’s Wedding Gift’ but, we had not even succeeded in as much as untying the ribbons. The very first night had turned out to be a damp squib because it was ‘No-Go’ till we had official clearance from Lord Satya Narayana (read ‘mother-in-law’).  Next night was a fiasco for want of a latchkey! The third evening, we were travelling in the train to Bangalore in a Three Tier Sleeper coach, comforting myself that, not to worry, we would make up for the lost time during the honeymoon in Bangalore. But, thanks to Mr. Namboodri, on the very first day I got busy extricating myself from an embarrassing situation that resulted in ‘walk-out’ by Kumud and consequent ‘adjournment motion’. I had to spend the night out crouching on a sofa while my better-half slept peacefully inside in a soft, cozy bed! To add injury to the insult, that spoilt little brat, Miss Chingi landed herself next night in our bed literally kicking me out of my rightful place in the process! Next, we were travelling again in a so-called Luxury Bus to our next destination in Mysore. What possibly can one do in the most uncomfortable, reclining seats of an ancient luxury bus except hold hands? Especially, when snoring right behind you there is none other than our ever helping, worthy friend, Mr. Murlidhar Joshi, along with his family! It seems, though posted in Mysore, the poor fellow had come all the way to Bangalore only to ensure personally that we had the most comfortable and enjoyable a stay in Hotel Woodlands. Needless to add, contrary to our great expectations and hopes that we might just yet be left alone to fend for ourselves, Messers Joshi graciously kept us company all through our three day stay in Mysore. They were there with us when we went to see the Mysore Palace and Mysore zoo and when we visited Chamundi Hills, Jaganmohan Palace, Krishnarajsagar Dam and Brindavan Gardens and besides, in the evenings, our little friend, Chingi was there to keep us company, the whole night, in our bed.  Then, to add to my misery, during the last two days Kumud had suddenly gone silent and sullen leaving me wondering if it was due to something I had unintentionally said or done that had caused it or if she was feeling really unwell. After much coaxing and persuasion, she finally came out with the truth; she was feeling terribly homesick and missing her siblings and mother. Naturally, I had to drop all my plans to take a break on our way back home, for two days at Lonavala or Matheran, where we could have one last ‘go’ with God’s Gift. For some, the honeymoon phase ends with that first trip, for some others it lasts for a couple of years and for people like us, it is still on after so many years ---- still sweet like honey though waxes and wanes like moon, sometimes.       

              ************ x ************

“Hello, this is Raja Ketkar. So, how did it go, Vasant?  I mean your   honeymoon.”

“Well, it was fine while it lasted. When is yours, by the way? ”

“Very soon, I think. We're getting married next week. Both of you

must come, okay?  Now, it’s time for you to keep your promise.”

“What promise did I make? I don’t remember”

“Well, you had told me you will give me some practical tips and  notes after returning from your honeymoon.”

“Oh, did I promise that? But, I don’t know, if my notes will be of    any help.”

“Why? “

“ Our honeymoon was different! ”

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