Journey to Surajmukhi (Part 1)

The dusty dirt path leading into the village was littered with vibrant splashes of red and yellow - marigold petals delicately placed by hand to welcome guests. Music blared from an old battery-powered dharambox, the familiar bhangra beats and lively voices cutting through the thick morning air hung with wood smoke.At the center of the organized chaos stood a simple mud and brick house, its humble compound transformed into a vibrant celebratory space. Tinseled bamboo torans and strings of fragrant marigolds adorned the entrances. Women in well-worn cotton saris printed in vegetable dyes rushed about, bangles clinking as they carried woven trays piled high with pungent masala powders, delicate rose petals, and sticky sweet laddoos.Inside the dim interior, Phool sat cross-legged on a woven duripatka, nervously twisting the hem of her embroidered lehnga. Her eyes were downcast as her grandmother's gnarled, work-worn hands tenderly parted and pleated her long black tresses. The elderly woman's eyes shone with tears as she meticulously twisted the strands into an elaborate plait, securing it with a vibrant gajra of jasmine and marigold blooms."Kal ki chhori, aaj ki dulhan," the dadi whispered, which simply meant 'Yesterday's girl, today's bride'. Her voice trembling with emotion as she cupped Phool's round face in calloused palms. Tracing the delicate features with her thumb, she blinked away the moisture in her eyes.In the crowded compound, Kesar graciously accepted the aarti light from the calloused hands of village women, bending to allow them to circle the brass diya while bestowing blessings on her youngest daughter's bidaai. Though her own cheeks were stained from tears, Kesar's weathered face glowed with a mother's fierce pride and love.As the morning burned away, the thunderous beat of dholak drums reverberated through the narrow village lanes. The baraatis had arrived - Deepak's vibrant groom procession had come from the neighbouring town, comprising his uncle and a few friends. Due to the significant cost of transportation, his family from the distant town of Surajmukhi couldn't join the celebration. However, the strong bond between the two families, forged since their childhood, ensured a warm and ego-free union. After the ceremony, Deepak would take his newlywed wife, Phool, back to Surajmukhi, where the remaining wedding rites would be joyfully completed.Astride a well decorated marwari mule, the bridegroom looked every inch the regal maharaja prince in his crimson sherwani, heavy with intricate zardozi embroidery. The kalgi turban was secured with cheap jeweled sarpech, glinting in the sunlight. But Deepak's eyes immediately locked on Phool, who emerged shyly from the humble thatched doorway, her delicate face modestly obscured by the beaded folds of a golden ghoonghat veil.With a loud udaat, Kesar rushed forward to garland the blushing son-in-law, encircling his neck with a marigold mala as the celebrating baraatis erupted into cheers and joyous lezims. The men danced with reckless abandon, whirling and stamping their feet in rhythmic bhangra tandav.The air went thick with the aromas of smoldering desi ghee and roasting spices as the village women toiled over glowing chulhas. Smoke lazily spiraled up from the earthen havels, jade fields of ripening rice swaying in the distance.Under a makeshift tent, the elders presided over the ceremony - whispering sacred mantras as Phool and Deepak's trembling hands exchanged lush garlands of rajnigandha blooms. The delicate orange flowers perfumed the air with their sweet fragrance as the young couple circled the holy fire, making seven solemn vows to the sounded of ululating voices.As the ancient rites concluded, raucous shouts and drum beats erupted once more in the village lanes. The dancing resumed with renewed vigor, beads of perspiration glistening on the brows of the energetic baraatis. In the commotion, Phool's veil was playfully plucked away by her new sisters amid riotous laughter.The young bride's eyes sparkled as she took in the happy chaos surrounding her - crimson stains of mehndi on her tender hands swaying in time with the music, gold nath glinting in the sunlight. This was her bidaai, the start of a new life in Surajmukhi...leaving behind her childhood for the responsibilities of being a wife and daughter-in-law.It was finally time to see the newlyweds off, as their journey to Deepak's village of Surajmukhi would take the better part of a day. Phool emerged from her father's house enveloped in layers of deep crimson fabric - her traditional bridal lehenga was a rich red hue adorned with delicate gold embroidery. A matching veil of sheer fabric draped from her head, obscuring her entire face behind a gossamer curtain.As she carefully made her way across the compound in the restrictive outfit, Phool momentarily lost her footing on the uneven earth. The veil tangled around her feet, nearly causing her to stumble. Her mother Kesar was at her side in an instant, steadying her daughter with a protective arm."Gor sae naina mat uthana," Kesar whispered in Phool's ear, gently resettling the veil over her face. "Once you've adorned the ghunghat, remember to keep your eyes respectfully downcast."Phool nodded obediently, blinking away tears as she struggled to navigate the festive chaos with her vision obscured. A friend of Deepak's offered to transport the couple on his motorcycle for the first leg of the journey to the river bank. From there, they would take a bus to the Pateela train station before finally reaching Surajmukhi by night.As Phool carefully climbed onto the bike's padded seat behind paddler, her mother enveloped her in one last fierce embrace. Kesar choked back a sob, pressing her weathered cheek to her daughter's shaking shoulder as she murmured a parting blessing, her chest swelling with the bittersweet swell of pride and sorrow that comes when the last chick leaves the nest. With great effort, she released Phool from her arms, allowing the newlyweds to depart amidst a chorus of ululating goodbyes.The motorcycle sputtered to life, gradually pulling away from the crowds and heading toward the dusty village road. Phool instinctively reached back to clutch her mother's hand until the last possible moment, their fingertips separating as the vehicle picked up speed. She twisted around one final time to see her family waving vigorously, their voices carrying on the warm breeze until they faded into the distance.At the river dock, Phool carefully dismounted and waited beside Deepak, eyes respectfully averted behind the sheer ghunghat . As the ramshackle ferry boat slowly pulled away from the shores, she felt hot tears stinging her eyes - her childhood realm disappearing from view for the final time.By the time they reached the bustling bus station in the nearby town, the midday sun was high overhead. The platforms were teeming with passengers jostling to secure spots on the dilapidated buses providing transit to the rural villages.Deepak surveyed the chaotic scene, quickly realizing there were no vacant seats remaining inside the bus headed for Pateela station. He turned to Phool, gently taking her hand as she clutched the folds of her heavy veil around her face."Bhabhi, we'll have to ride on the roof," he said apologetically. "Let me go first with the luggage, then I'll help you up the ladder at the back."Phool nodded silently behind her gossamer covering as Deepak hefted their bags over his shoulder and scrambled up the rickety ladder bolted to the bus's rear end. With the bundles secured on the roof's metal grating, he turned and extended his hand down to his new bride.Gathering her courage, Phool climbed up carefully, the folds of her ornate lehenga shielding her modesty. As she emerged onto the sun-baked roof, she saw they weren't alone - an elderly couple was already seated towards the front with their meager possessions.The bus jerked into motion with a loud cough of black exhaust. Deepak swiftly moved to Phool's side, draping a supportive arm around her swaying shoulders to steady her. Being exposed under the open sky, she timidly lifted her veil away from her face, allowing it to flutter behind her as the warm breeze whipped her dark tresses.Needing no words, Deepak reached into a cloth bundle and produced two laddoos, offering one of the sweet treats to his wife.As the rattling bus rambled along the dusty rural roads, Phool stole sidelong glances at her new husband seated next to her on the sun-baked roof. Though not classically handsome, there was an unexpected kindness and gentleness in Deepak's expression that drew her curious eyes.His features were still quite youthful - he couldn't have been more than 19 years old, she guessed. Yet in an effort to appear more mature, he had recently cultivated a thin mustache above his lips, giving him an endearing air of precociousness. Phool bit back an affectionate smile, charmed by her teenage husband's attempt at masculinity.Beneath the veneer, she could sense Deepak's underlying nervousness simmering just below the surface. Though he carried himself with quiet confidence befitting the son of a landowning farmer, Phool picked up on the slight tremor in his hands as he passed her one of the sweet laddoos. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, stealing furtive glances at her from the corner of his eyes when he thought she couldn't see.The young bride found Deepak's timidity oddly comforting and familiar - a reminder that he was just a boy like any other, simultaneously thrilled and terrified by the significance of this day. She was still only 16 herself, after all. As children they might have run and played amongst these very same sun-baked village roads.Now due to the ancient traditions of their families, they had been bound together before either could grasp the magnitude of the responsibility they had vowed to shoulder. Phool felt her chest swell with a complicated swirl of emotions - excitement, trepidation, but also the first delicate flutterings of what might possibly blossom into love for her unsure but well-intentioned husband.As if sensing her eyes privately appraising him once more, Deepak shifted closer until their shoulders brushed together. In that tender moment, the newlyweds found unexpected solace in their shared uncertainty about the journey that lay ahead, united in taking their first tentative steps into the great unknown.After some time, Deepak leaned close so only Phool could hear his voice over the roar of the engine."Bhabhi, you should give me all your jewelry for now," he said solemnly. "The train station will be very crowded, and you could get robbed or lose the valuables in the commotion."He gave her a reassuring look. "An old saying from my village - 'Gahne churaa gaye toh dukh doguna.' Jewels stolen leads to twice the misery."Understanding the wisdom of his words, Phool carefully unfastened her necklaces, bangles, and rings without protest. She removed the jewel-encrusted passa and nath from her hair, passing all of the precious adornments to Deepak's waiting hands. Her new husband gently stowed them into the folds of his kurta for safekeeping as the bus pressed onwards to Pateela station.Two long hours later, the bus finally lurched to a stop at the newlyweds' destination - a dusty intersection just outside the Pateela train station. Deepak hopped down nimbly from the roof, then turned to assist Phool in her cumbersome bridal attire. Setting her jewel-adorned feet safely on the ground, he swiftly rearranged her veil to modestly cover her face once more.Clutching his wife's hand tightly, Deepak began navigating them through the teeming crowds toward the train platforms. Phool focused on placing one foot carefully in front of the other, her vision obscured by the sheer crimson fabric draped over her eyes. The sounds and aromas of the bustling station enveloped her - rich spice scents mingling with the shouts of vendors and porters.When they reached the assigned platform, Deepak could see a considerable crowd had already gathered to await the train's arrival. He gently nudged Phool towards a relatively open space near a crumbling pillar. Quickly sizing up the situation, he set down one of their luggage trunks and gestured for her to make use of it as a seat while they waited in the blazing afternoon heat.Though drowsy from the journey, Phool sat obediently on the makeshift bench as her new husband stood protectively beside her, scanning the hordes of people with a watchful eye.Only a few minutes later, a thunderous rumble grew louder as the powerful engine of the train appeared in the distance. Its brakes screeched violently as it gradually slowed, finally pulling to a stop and releasing a torrent of steam.The platform instantly devolved into pandemonium as the waiting crowd surged forward in a mad scramble. Deepak swiftly seized Phool's hand once more, clutching it tightly as he snatched up their luggage with his other arm. He forged ahead into the seething masses, using his broad shoulders to carve a path towards the train's entrance.Somehow he managed to propel them both up the makeshift wooden ladder leading into the railcar's elevated entrance without injury. With a harsh shove, they tumbled into the train's narrow aisle, flattening themselves against the wall as the flow of bodies streamed in around them. Phool huddled obediently close to her new husband's protective form, following wherever his grip led despite her obscured vision.