A Big Fat Indian Wedding

1. Relocation

Delhi, India.

"Dilli dilwalo ki" (Delhi belongs to the large hearted), that's what Delhiites quote. The city is known for its magnanimity and is very cordial to anyone who arrives here, regardless to what caste or creed they belong. Delhi and its inhabitants have an enormous heart to accommodate every individual into it. This is the prime reason why, whosoever arrives to this city once, eventually falls in love with it.

Despite of sheltering almost 16 million residents, over thousands of people from every corner of the country migrate here every year. It's the city having lots of hopes and opportunities, which drags every individual who has enormous dreams in their tiny eyes.

This was exactly the reason why I relocated to Delhi after I had completed my MBA from Kolkata, India.

Yeah right, Kolkata. That's the city where I was born and brought up. I spent 24 years of my life there. But my dreams to accomplish something in my life grew bigger with my age. This was not possible being in Kolkata. I didn't want to be a banker like my dad and ruin my life in number crunching and handling accounts. So the moment I got appointed as a Marketing Manager at a renowned MNC in Delhi, my dreams got the wings and I flew off to Delhi.

Though, it was not an easy task for me to convince my parents. As it was the first time I was leaving my parents and relocating to a totally unknown city. I have never been to Delhi before.

I had to go through a lot of melodrama at my home. Mom blackmailed me emotionally, everyday, ever since I took that job. She completely reacted like any "typical" Indian moms! She wept, wept and... wept.

This scene even continued to the Dum Dum Airport, Kolkata.

"Maa, at least don't start here all over again! What will people think if they see it?" I said as I loaded my luggage onto the airport luggage cart. "You have been crying since morning. Stop it now or you'll make yourself sick."

"How can a mother resist her tears, when her son is going away from her?" she replied, wiping the tears with the aanchal of her saree.

"I'm not leaving you forever, Maa." I said, placing my both hands on her shoulders to appease her. "It's just a matter of few hours of journey and you can be with me anytime and for as long as you want to be."

"But why is it so essential to go there and do the job? We have so many renowned companies in Kolkata as well! Why not here?" she said, still struggling with her tears.

"Oh God! We have already talked about it!" I said, disgusted. Then turning to my father I continued, "Dad! Why don't you say something?"

"Stop it Shanti! Let him go, he's not a kid and can very well take care of himself." My dad tried to soothe her.

"Did you hear that Maa? I'm not a kid. I'm matured enough to take care of myself. So there's nothing to worry. I'll be absolutely fine." Touching her feet I continued, "I got to go now or I'll miss the flight." And I headed towards the checking.

"Call me as soon as you reach there." She broke into tears again as I moved away from her. "And yeah, don't talk to any stranger or eat anything they give to you..."

Her voice died out as I crossed the checking.

That was the last time I saw my mom and dad, in person. It's been a year since I left Kolkata and came to Delhi but my very hectic schedule and work load in my workplace prevented me from visiting my parents. Ugh! How rude of this corporate world.

But my mom did remember to call me at least twice a day, every day. Not a single day went by during this entire one year period when she forgot to call me.

One lovely fact about Indian moms, no matter how rude her child is to them, they'll never turn their backs to them. No wonder why so many Indian poets have praised so much about Mothers in their legendary poems.

In Delhi I was putting up in a two room rented apartment near Lajpat Nagar, which belonged to Mrs. Preeto Arora. She was a sexagenarian widowed lady who herself lived in a single room and rented her entire apartment to me.

She was an amazing lady. She was very loving and caring, loved me like her own son. Her only son lived in US and comes to meet her every year in Christmas. Many times he tried to convince her to take her to US with him, but she was very adamant to stay here all by herself and die in her own country in peace, rather than any other place away from her motherland. Wow, this heightened her respect in my eyes.

On my first day in Delhi, I was extremely lonesome. I lay on my couch wondering that first time in my life I'm all alone. Then a moment later I realized, "First time in my life I was all alone", which means now I could do anything in my room. I can run naked all around the apartment and nobody would see me. I could do dumbest thing and no one would mock at me. I could throw my things anywhere and nobody would scream on me to keep things in its place. Yippee! My mood changed instantaneously. My apartment was my kingdom and I was the only king of it.

Soon I tuned in with Delhi's tempo. I was totally enjoying my life here. Kolkata never had a night life, so I enjoyed partying with my colleagues all night. In the weekdays I worked hard and in the weekends I partied harder. Delhi acted like an alcohol in my veins and I was entirely inebriated in its allure. It was like music and my life reverberated with its rhythm. I was living life that I have always dreamt of.

My job and my life, both were going exceptionally fine until one night when I received a call from Kolkata. It was my dad. My phone slipped from my hand as I heard the news.

Without wasting any further time I took leave from my office and took the first flight to Kolkata from Delhi.