Anchored in you

Chapter 21: The Milk, the Marble, and the Mischief

The solemnity of the morning's rituals-the smoke, the Sanskrit, and the weight of the Thali-gave way to the absolute, high-energy chaos of the Nalangu. This is the part of a Brahmin wedding designed specifically to humiliate the newlyweds for the entertainment of the relatives, and Harish, it seemed, had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

By 4:00 PM, the formal stage had been cleared. We were seated on the floor, facing each other on a traditional mat, surrounded by a wall of cousins and aunts who were already placing bets on who would win.

"Alright, Harish, Samaira," my cousin Gayatri announced, acting as the self-appointed referee. "This is the true test of your marriage. The games of the Nalangu!"

The first task was simple: we had to smear a paste of turmeric and kumkum on each other's feet and face. I reached out tentatively, trying to be graceful. Harish, however, had the look of a man who had just discovered a new competitive sport.

As I leaned forward to apply a small dot of turmeric to his cheek, he dodged like a professional boxer, his hand darting out to smear a giant yellow stripe across my forehead.

"Harish!" I gasped, trying to wipe my eyes.

"Optimization, Sami," he whispered, his eyes dancing with a wicked light. "Maximum coverage, minimum time."

The crowd roared. But the real battle began with the Papad crushing. We each had to hold a large, fried papad over the other's head while the other tried to break it.

I held mine over his head, but every time I tried to bring my hand down to crush it, he would tilt his head at impossible angles, making me miss. When it was his turn, he didn't just crush the papad; he turned it into a shower of salty confetti that rained down into my hair and the folds of my nine-yard saree.

"You are a menace," I hissed, suppressed laughter bubbling in my throat.

"I'm a winner, Mrs. Kesavan," he retorted, his dimple showing no mercy.

Then came the grand finale: finding the ring in a pot of colored water. A heavy silver ring was dropped into a deep brass vessel filled with water, flowers, and lime. We both had to plunge our hands in at the same time. The first one to find it twice out of three times would "rule the household."

We dived in. Our hands collided underwater-slippery, frantic, and surprisingly strong. I felt the ring! I grabbed it, but Harish's fingers pried mine open under the water, his strength gentle but firm. He snatched it and held it up with a triumphant shout.

"One-zero!" he cheered.

The second round, I was faster. I grabbed it and pulled it out before he could even submerge his hand. "One-one!"

The final round was a war. Our arms were submerged to the elbows. The water was splashing everywhere, soaking my silk sleeves. I felt the ring at the bottom and gripped it. Harish grabbed my wrist, trying to distract me by tickling my palm.

"That's cheating!" I laughed, trying to maintain my grip.

"There are no rules in love and Nalangu!" he countered.

In the struggle, he pulled my hand up, and we both emerged from the water clutching the ring together.

"A tie?" Niti shouted from the sidelines. "Does that mean the consultant and the CEO are sharing the power?"

Harish looked at me, his hand still dripping, his face smeared with turmeric, and his eyes full of a warmth that made the cheering crowd fade away. He leaned in, ostensibly to help me wipe the water off my face, but whispered in my ear, "You can have the power, Sami. I just want the person."