A week had passed since the bride arrived. The hype had begun to cool down.

The Mehras tried to make the new bride feel comfortable- a part of the family. Grandmother chatted and kept her company in the evenings, Mrs. Mehra shared recipes, Payal shared stories of weddings in the family, Mr. Mehra didn’t talked or shared stories but made sure to ask ‘if Rati had eaten’ every time he ate or drank something, Nitin just latched-on on any opportunity he got to tell about incidents or events from his school days or about college and about his annoying classmates. And then there was Vardhaan who consciously and unconsciously made sure that his wife felt welcomed and cared. He could see, she wasn’t that comfortable around the others but around him she had started to show a more relaxed and cool version of herself. She laughed, joked and even teased him. He was no longer just the stranger from the Indian army whom she respected but someone she confided in, a friend.

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“You got skills. I used to take at least an hour to look presentable in saare*.” Payal said admiring Rati’s beautifully draped saare. “Girls nowadays know how to wear it, when I was about to get married I had to practice wearing it in least possible time.”

(Saare*- a traditional Indian attire for women.

Pehli Rasoi*- a tradition where new bride cooks for the family, for the first time; usually something sweet.)

“This too is years of practice.” she said pointing towards her saare. “I often just wrapped around maa’s saare if she refused to help when I was like 9-10 years old… as I grew older I tried wearing it on my own and play house.” She said reminiscing her childhood days. “I always wanted to be able to wear it well in least amount of time.” She said feeling proud at her achievement.

She was getting ready for ‘Pehli Rasoi’*. She had to cook something for the family. It was her first time cooking or even stepping in the kitchen here. The Mehra ladies had made sure that she didn’t step inside the kitchen until now. It was like a formal introduction of the Bride to the kitchen (the source of the family’s wellness).

“Sugar, salt, dry fruits, oil, ghee (clarified butter) and all that is here” Mrs. Mehra said pointing towards one of the top shelf. “Rice, suji (semolina) and such are there.” She said pointing at the lower cabinet.

“Okay” Rati said.

“Ask me if you need anything. Or do you want me to stay?” She said concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” Rati replied.

“Maa is calling you.” Payal said tapping on Mrs. Mehra’s shoulder. “You go. I’ll explain the rest.”

“Just a minute...” Mrs. Mehra said.

“No, go NOW” Payal insisted. Mrs. Mehra walked out of the kitchen.

“What was she saying? Did she reach the cleaning part? Payal asked.

“Cleaning…No” Rati replied.

“It’s the part where she gives tips on how not to spill anything on the stove, counter or anywhere. And if you did then you’re uncultured and should immediately clean up without delay under her guidance. Basically she makes you regret for stepping into her domain and ruining it.” Payal explained in one breath.

“Hmm…” Rati nodded.

“You can laugh. I won’t tell her.” Payal said to puzzled looking Rati. Both giggled.

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It was the judgement time. Rati hadn’t anticipated it would be this stressful. She had made Kheer (rice porridge); it was the easiest and safest sweet dish to cook. Nothing could go wrong with it but there she was fretting over if they were going to like it or not. She didn’t like the pressure and being a people pleaser but since she agreed for the arranged marriage, everything she disliked was being rubbed right in her face, like crowded places, everyone talking to her, no alone time, being under constant surveillance, looking presentable all the time and the worst was always keeping her guards up.

“Just eat and be done with this… this is how those cooking show’s contestants feel… stressed.” she muttered under her breath as she sat at the dining table for the breakfast, her legs stiffened under the table.

“This is good… Very good! If you ask me.” Mr Mehra said to others.

“Yes it is.” Grandmother agreed. She called Rati closer and presented a box. “God bless you.” She said planting a kiss on her forehead then caressed her cheeks.

“Indeed. It tastes better than what I’d had in months. What do you say Brother?” Payal said to Mr. Mehra, teasing her sis-in-law, Mrs. Mehra.

“Oh…yes. I agree.” Mr. Mehra said and both brother and sister laughed in unison.

“I want more.” Nitin said.

“Vidhu, you didn’t say anything. Did you not like it?” Mrs. Mehra asked refilling Nitin’s bowl.

“Everybody likes it…I m no different.” He said and continued eating.

Rati was relieved to see everyone enjoying their meal. She felt a weight lifting off of her shoulder. She saw Vardhaan smiling to himself, “What is he so happy about?”She thought.

“Liar…this is too good to be cooked by someone who is ‘not good at cooking’.” He thought remembering her words from their first meeting. “It’s either she lied on purpose to see if I care…’cause people usually lie about their daughters being too good at cooking to make a good impression; or she wanted me to turn her down. Nah… it’s too small of a reason for that. She wasn’t being humble, I’m sure of it…then… it must be to see if I care… but her culinary skills were never in question...”

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It was night time and Rati sat in her room admiring the intricate design of the gold necklace she got from the grandmother. It was light weight and simple, with a thick coin like gold pendant in the middle which had fine carving of blooming jasmines on it. “Pretty” she said recalling what granny had said- “This belongs to you now and no one else should have it other than your daughter or daughter-in-law. Whoever comes first...”

There was a knock on the door. She could tell from the knock, it was Vardhaan, and this time he was there to stay. With all ceremonies and rituals being over, it was time to take care of the couple’s business. They were now officially allowed to share a room. She opened the door and they both held each other’s gaze for a second until she took just one step to the side to let him in, which wasn’t enough for his huge frame. But he carefully slid inside. She smirked closing the door. She gave him little space to get in on purpose and he slid in skilfully without even grazing her shoulder.

“Smart” she thought. “A gentleman move. I like it”