Peḷli cēsukuṇṭāvā, baṅgāraṁ? - Marry me, sweetheart?

Summary:

An Alternate Universe fic with context to KGF chapter 2, this explores the 'what if' of what would have happened if Rocky had chosen to come for Reena himself. And makes a pretty last second appearance at that, at Reena's rushed wedding to one Kamal Bhargav.

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Notes:

This one is in Telugu, with dialogue translations. I've done my best with research and translations, but well, nothing's ever perfect, so feel free to reach out if you find any mistakes!

Also, look to the notes at the end for meanings to certain words, and context for the traditions used.

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Reena had been seventeen, nearly eighteen, when she had been engaged to one, Kamal Bhargav. 

In front of all the guests gathered in the hall of their Bengaluru house, the Pūjāri had called out to her. 

"Meeru sammatam untēne, sabhālō kūrchunāru peddalu antariki Namaskāram cheppamma." //If you consent to this engagement, then please greet the elders of the sabhā, child.//

And suddenly, Reena had felt happy that this whole thing was happening with her consent. Her Appa had asked her before he'd asked even Kamal, and she is insanely glad for it to this day. 

Because Reena knows she had been a horrible actress. Still is, to be honest. A poker face is as far as she has ever bothered to learn, and that too only because her place in society requires it of her. 

So, seventeen, nearly eighteen year old Reena, had put on her best poker face, and folded her hands in a Namaskāram, facing the gathered sabha of elders and bowing her head as little as she could possibly get away with. After all, it wasn't very easy to hold her head high with a three sovereign pāpiḍi biḷla on her head, adding to the jada and flowers, and Reena simply didn't want to take the risk of bowing down only to find her neck wouldn't straighten back up again. She was just too proud for that. 

It was only as Varahamma, her nursemaid from as far as she could remember led her away, that her steps had faltered, and she had turned to look back at her Appa, who had thrown her a quick yet happy smile. And at Kamal, who was grinning widely. 

Not a grin of pure, unadulterated joy, perhaps, but still joy. 

In her head, it had been the best she could hope for. 

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Three years later, and newly twenty-one, Reena walked down the stairs and into the grand hall of her house, this time the same three sovereign pāpiḍi biḷla on her forehead her excuse for letting her head bow down. Plus her jaḍa. And the densely woven maḷḷi pūvu and kanakāmbara. 

She stood there adorned in the beautiful set of jewellery her Appa had had made to match the one jewel from her engagement she had loved the most. In a saree of silk from Mysuru that had been custom made for her right from the dying to the weaving, with the purest gold jari available in the nation woven through it in intricate designs. 

And yet, her head stayed bowed. 

She remembered the day before, when the same old Pūjāri had asked for her consent all over again. 

She had stayed frozen until Varahamma had nudged her gently with an elbow, gesturing to her Appa as she had looked at her from the corner of her eyes. Reena had looked up to see him, only to feel choked at the sight of the pleading look the man threw her way. 

She had looked to Kamal then, wondering if he found joy in her misery, despite the apology he had offered her a few days before for his cruel words that had poked at the wounds her jagged loneliness had left her with. He had not been grinning. Had instead been looking at her with a half resigned face. As if he fully expected that Reena was not capable of going through with this wedding. 

But then her Appa's words had echoed in her ears. "Vāḍu ippaṭivaraku canipōyāḍu ēmō. Ardhaṁ avutunda nīku?!" She had stood there frozen, hands tightening around the rakṣa tāḍu she held hidden within them, refusing to turn away from the glass doors to her balcony. From her only current view to the world outside from where she had trapped herself within their house. What if he came, and she was not there? What if he was looking for her, but couldn't find her because she was off partying with her fake friends? //He must be dead by now! Do you not understand?//

Her Appa had held her shoulders gently at first, hoping to rouse her from her world of lucid dreams. And when she had stayed unresponsive, he had roughly shaken her by the shoulders, turning her towards him forcefully before yelling at her. "Okavēḷa Rocky batiki undaṇṭē, virāṭ vāḍni campēśāru ēmō, nīku elā telusu Reena?!"//Even if he had survived his tasks, Virat will probably have him killed. How would you even know Reena?!//

Her head had snapped up as he had questioned her. Daring her to refute the logic of his words by refusing his claims. "Kādā?! Kādā?!"//Isn't it? Wouldn't have Virat done that?!//

She had not denied her Appa his truths. If Rocky was alive, then he would have come for her by then, would he have not? After all, it had been nearly a week since news of Garuda's death had reached them, and Virat had decided to crown himself in another ten days. Or atleast, that's what the guard who had picked her frantic calls to Narachi had told her. 

And so she had broken down into her Appa's arms in a way she had not since she had been able to remember. In a way that the silent tears she had shed when she'd first heard people claim he was dead could not compare to. And when her Appa had asked her what he could do to help, she had had no answer beyond "Mīku ēmi kāvālō, adē ceyyaṇḍi. Nēnu māṭu istunnānu, ēmi ceppanu.."//Do what you want, Appa. You have my word that I won't object.//

She had buried her head in his shoulder, her arms holding onto his shirt as if for dear life. "Nuvvu kaccitaṅgā ceptunnāvu, kādā? Tarvāta venakki taggakūḍadu", he had warned her. She had nodded her head in agreement.//Think again, Reena. Are you sure? Because I'm warning you now, you won't be able to go back on your words later.//

After all, her Appa was all she'd had before he had entered her life like the storm that he was. And now with the very real possibility of him gone once again, her Appa was once more perhaps all she had. For him, anything. 

And so Reena had ignored the raksa tāḍu she had tied to her neck in sheer desperate hope, and instead given her consent to marry Kamal. 

Again. 

Which was how she stood there, in the hall of her house, bright sunlight from the open windows and doors adding to the chandelier's light, head bowed behind a fan of peacock feathers tied together by a band of burnished gold and held by one of her maternal cousins. 

Until she heard the guests rise up in confusion from the ruckus outside atleast. Until she heard her Appa's guards enter and form a line of protection in front of them. Until she saw the feet of one of Kamal's men rush behind the dhoti acting as a screen, and then she saw that same screen fall to the floor as he stood up in such a hurry that his dhoti almost fell off, snagged as it was on one of the multiple plates near his feet. He bent down and she could see his hands from behind her fan as he roughly pulled at the cloth to release it before straightening again. Until she heard other men enter, in a uniform of red and green that she did not recognise, and form a line opposite her Appa's own guards. Until she saw a pair of bare feet, and the bottom of a white silk dhoti walk in, rendering the whole house silent. Silent enough, that she could hear his steady footfalls as he walked up to her Appa's guards, to the gap between them where she could see her Appa's own booted feet and safari bottoms. 

Until she heard in the voice she had yearned to hear when awake and not just in her multitude of dreams, "Māvayya! Mīru elā unnāru?", and the smirking lilt in his voice nearly set her off to look for her mini Beretta. //Father-in-law! How are you?//

And then, well. Alive. He was alive. Her head lifted up straight, and her hand pushed her cousin's trembling one away. 

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In retrospect, perhaps Reena shouldn't have been so quick to push away that useful little fan. It falls to the ground as her cousin quickly steps away from her, the gold band rolling away as the best feathers gathered from the family properties in Mysuru spread at her own feet. A carpet as colourful as the swears that come to her mind. 

Her eyes shut close in frustration, the spinning gold band being the only sound in the hall. It clinks as it finally falls to the ground, and she breathes out slowly before opening her eyes. He is staring right back at her. 

The sight of him strikes her silent though. Silent as a deer in the face of a lion, which is what he looked like for the most part. As still as one. As silent as one. And she lets her eyes roam over him, curiousity and concern warring within. 

His hair has grown longer, falling around his face like a mane of the truest sort. His face is thinner, more chiseled, cheekbones sharper. And more.... Golden. For lack of a better word. The sunlight had done him good, and his white dhoti shirt set only do him more good. He looked like he was here for his own wedding, even despite the simple gold jari borders of his dhoti. 

And his eyes seemed like gold too. Tawny, glinting brown eyes, unlike the coal chips she had seen that last day at the pub, the warmth in them reminding her of innocent children and their innocent joys. They were still set on her, looking her up and down, searching for an elusive something in her face, her own eyes. She pulls her walls up as well as she can, lifting her chin up further and squaring her shoulders. 

If the man she had remembered everyday had been a youngling prince in the forests of Bengaluru, then the man who had returned was a king in the prime of his years.

Kamal's man tries to sneak out slowly, sliding along the walls to the open doors and to the porch beyond. Two men in green jump for him together though, and holding one arm each, they march him down to Rocky. Rocky Bhai of Bombay, she supposes, as he blinks slowly, his eyes going back to those flat chips she remembered as he turns away from her. Finally. She reels for a breath. 

Just as they are about to push the goon down to his knees, he steps forward, a hand raised up in a gesture to stop them, and they let go of the man before moving away. And then the sinhaṁ pilla that he is, he throws an arm around the shoulders of the practically shivering man "Āye! Nēnu nīku ceppalēdā?", he asks, voice crooning and looking expectantly at the goon in his arms. He waits a beat, then two, before answering his own question."Ī rōju nin̄ci nēnu nī andariki bāva, adi nā māvayyā. Appuḍē ceppēsānu kadā!?", and he squeezes the man closer to him even as the idiot shudders in fear at the drunken chaos of that day, at the forged steel in his voice now. //Aye! Did I, or did I not tell you? That from this day onwards, I am your only brother-in-law, and her Appa is my father-in-law. I did, didn't I?//

He lets go of the goon with a good natured pat on his back once he hears a whispered answer that evades the rest of them, and he laughs. A warm, full sound that makes her heart overflow with, something. 

She looks to her Appa. 

Hadn't these feelings of hers pestered her enough, after all? And yet she wants more of them. Yearns for it. 

Kamal steps off the mandapa, and yet she does not see in him the fierceness that the Rocky of before had brought out in him. That does not mean he seems any weaker, though. 

"Nēnu mundhīyē anukunnānu", he says, voice gruff and quite, yet still carrying. "Nuvvu antha silent-gā canipōyē rakaṁ kādu ra!" //It's struck me as odd for a while now, you know? You simply aren't the sort to die so quietly. So calmly!//

"Correct! Sarigā ceptunnānu nuvvu". He walks forward, right between her Appa's guards as if the guns they hold are toys he had played with as a toddler. He throws his head back, looking at the white ceiling and dazzling chandelier when he talks again. "Iṅkā nī business-mīdu, vaṇṭamīdu, idi anni mīru ēmi akkharā lēdā nīku? Ikkaḍa siggulēkuṇḍā maṇḍapamlō kurcunnāv ēṇṭi? Your boss, no be angry?", he finishes off as he looks back at Kamal. //Correct! You are absolutely correct! And yet, I find you standing here shamelessly and getting married, instead of worrying about your business and your next meal. Won't your boss be angry?//

"Virat?", Kamal questions, and Reena's brows furrow, things finally slotting into place for her. Had he-? 

"No! Nēnē ra!", he answers, gesturing to himself, a look of absolute disbelief on his face that anyone could see him as less than a boss. Dramebaaz, she thinks, rolling her eyes. //No! It's me!!!//

"Virat?", her Appa asks again, and she can see the wheels turning in his head, probably reaching the same conclusion as her, because he turns to look at her. Her clothes, and then his. Vadhuvu. Varuḍu.

"Virat! Virat.... Pāpaṁ! Cinna vayasulōnē canipōyāḍu." //Virat! Virat... The poor man. He died at such a young age.//

"Aṇṭē nuvvu...?", and her Appa trails off, looking around the guests gathered in their hall. After all, faith in people's ability to stay silent was still an unforgivable mistake. "Hmm...", he hums, head nodding in reply before he turns to the closest of his guards, giving him a look. //Does that mean you...?//

The guard rushes out, and when he enters back inside there are more men, and women, with him. They are dressed in simple clothes of cotton, overly simple perhaps, although they are clean. And they carry with them large plates filled with an assortment of things. 

Paṇḍlu. Vari. Araṭipaṇḍla gutti. Kobbari. Pasupu. Tamalapākulu. 
//Fruits. Grains of rice. A bunch of bananas. A coconut. Turmeric. Betel leaves and Arica nuts.//

Paṭṭu cīra. 
//A silk saree.//

Pasupu tāḍu. 
//A turmeric coated thread.//

Māṅgalyaṁ. 
//A golden mangalyam strung on it.//

She looked to him standing tall and right in front of her Appa. His eyes are not on her. 

She is looking at him as Appa straightens up and meets his eyes from where they had been set on the plates being held by Rocky's, Raja's, men and women. 

He is still as he talks, in a way that she has never before seen him be. "Business kōsamē vaccānani evarū nam'maru. Personal-ga oka viṣayaṁ kōsaṁ ikkaḍikī vaccānu. Nā rāṇi kōsaṁ". The air flowing through her airways pause at the way he says rāṇi. He sounds like a devotee at her altar, yet he claims the Goddess he proclaims her to be for himself. //If I were to say that I'm here solely for business, then that just wouldn't be true. I had a personal reason to be here for as well. For my rani.//

"Nēnu mī kūturini peḷli cēsukōvāla anukuṇṭunnānu. Kānī mī am'māyiki mītō cālā prēma undi. Andukī, ai peḷli jaragāli aṇṭē mī sam'madaṁ kāvali." The hall is so silent, that the absence of sound rings in her ears. //I wish to marry your daughter. But she loves you too much. And that means I want your consent to this wedding.//

Her eyes are still on his profile when her Appa calls out to her, "Reena?", and she reluctantly pulls her eyes away from him. Reena knows, that she does not truly have a choice here. Kamal's silence is sign enough, that for once in his life he has made the smart decision to back off, instead of fighting and seeing to the consequences. Rocky has announced in front of half of Bengaluru's high society, and nearly all of their important relatives, that he loves her, and intends to marry her. 

She knows her Appa will fight for her no matter her choice, and that is enough. He respects her choice, and that is enough for her. So she simply repeats her words from the same day she had broken down only to build herself up again. "Mīku ēmi kāvālō, adē ceyyaṇḍi". The fear in his eyes fade, the glint of visible pride (and was that amusement?) the last thing she notices before he turns back to Rocky.//Do whatever you want, Appa.//

"ī peḷḷikī nēnu oppukuṇṭunnānu.". Her eyes shut close, fists clench shut, the inevitability of marriage to a man who no matter what feelings he rouses in her, is still a stranger for the most part, dawning on her. There is no way to back out now. None of the pushing the date around games that she had played with Kamal ever since college had ended. And then she feels Varahamma nudge her the slightest bit too hard from where she stands to her left. //You have my consent.//

Her eyes open to the sight of a hand being held out to her, palm up. And she follows it up, up, up, to Rocky. Raja, she thinks. 

Because Raja is the man with the eyes of a sinhaṁ pilla, all warm and fuzzy and purring. And vulnerable in the way she has only seen children ever be. He looks her up and down quickly, not teasing, but taking her in, and his lips quirk up on one side the slightest bit before his face turns serious again, eyes on her face again.

"Nannu peḷli cēsukuṇṭāvā, baṅgāraṁ?" //Will you marry me, baṅgāraṁ?//

It breaks something within her, some last barrier she had not known the existence of, and she makes her decision. 

She wasn't going to marry him because he was now, technically, her Appa's choice, no. 

"Aye Nandita!", she calls out to the cousin who had dropped that fan of peacock feathers. "Īsāri visiri sariggā paṭṭukōvē. Sarē na?", and the threat in her voice and the fear the girl must already be in must be enough, because she rushes to pick the feathers up, looking around for that bloody gold band. //Aye Nandita! This time, hold the fan properly. Okay?//

She looks up, and he is looking right back at her. Until his eyes lower and he grins in joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. It warms her heart, despite the poker face she has on, but she just doesn't get what all these men are so amused by. First her Appa, now Raja! 

It takes her a moment after looking down to realise that the rakṣa tāḍu tied around her neck, the one clenched in her fist sometime between her eyes setting on him and agreeing to marry him, is his. 

She lets go of it like it burns her, and his laughter roars! 

Sinhaṁ pilla.... 

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Notes:

Asking for consent - This is a ritual popular in the parts of Tamilnadu bordering Karnataka, and one that I borrowed here. Both at the engagement, and the official announcement of the wedding, the bride is asked to greet a sabha of gathered elders if she consents, and refrain if she does not. Only after that are the final rituals and announcements carried out.

The peacock feather fan - This is a ritual from Karnataka, to the best of my research. Meant to hide the bride's face as she walks to the altar. Although I'm not sure of how in practice it is.

The holding of a screen between bride and groom - This is to hide the bride's and groom's faces from each other until the equivalent of a kanyadaan/giving away ceremony occurs, post which the screen is dropped. It's followed as a rule in Telugu weddings, and to some extent, Kannadiga weddings.

Pūjāri - A term for a Hindu priest, who may/may not serve at a temple, performs rituals at homes according to religious scriptures. Basically a Pandit.

Namaskāram - Southern slang for Namaste.

Pāpiḍi biḷla - A characteristic design of the maang tikka/netthi chutti.

Jaḍa - Braid. Here I use it to refer to the braid which is lengthened with the use of pilaka (in Telugu)/sowri (in Tamil), a kind of traditional hair extension.

Maḷḷi pūvu - Tightly woven jasmine flowers.

Kanakāmbara - Crossandra flowers, called so for their colour, and woven with jasmine for that pop of brightness.

Jari - Slang for zari, the silver-gold alloy thread. Traditionally woven into silk sarees as part of the design in the South.

Rakṣa tāḍu - An amulet for protection that is tied to a thread and worn on the wrist or neck commonly. Tabeez (in Urdu)/Daayathu kayiru (in Tamil).

Dramebaaz - Hindi slang for an extremely dramatic person. Basically nautanki.

Sinhaṁ pilla - A lion cub.

Vadhuvu - Bride.

Varuḍu - Groom.

Baṅgāraṁ - Literally, means gold. But it's popularly used as an endearment along the lines of darling/sweetheart, much like Chinna/Sona/Thangam.

The gifts Rocky's people bring in on plates - While like the rest of India, the marriage is traditionally conducted at the bride's native with them financing it (although it's pretty popular for costs to be shared), the above listed are gifts given to the bride for the wedding ceremony. Changing into the new saree indicates her acceptance into the groom's family. Also, in South Indian weddings, first a turmeric coated thread with the golden māṅgalyaṁ strung on it is tied, and later replaced by a gold/black bead chain (depending on region. The black bead chain is popular only in Karnataka to the best of my knowledge).

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