Ambuja Kuchalaambaal

Think about it, what would you do if you were named Ambuja Kuchalaambaal? It would take an eternity for anyone who tries to spell it and even longer if he tries to write it down.

By all the grace of the almighty, my parents decided against naming me after my great aunt’s name & instead named me ‘Soppana Sundari’ which was slightly more tolerable.

Hailing from a highly orthodox Brahmin family, I grew up in a constrained environment. Daily curfews that didn’t get past 6:30 pm, clothing that only had two choices, either a saree or a half-saree, scoring centum with a school first rank, or a threat of being servedcurd rice for one whole month, and oh! Strictly no love stories.

Mr. Varadachari, my father, was the one person who always terrified me. Conversations with him were always mono-syllabic, “Mm”, “Yes”, “Sure”. He was the decision taker in my life. Need say more?

Little did Mr. and Mrs. Varadhachari know that Soppana Sundari, MBA, IIT Kanpur; would turn into someone who walked right out of Vogue magazine beyond 500 meters radius from ‘Ambuja Kuchalaambaal Villa.’

Micro-mini shorts under my in-skirt and a crop top neatly tucked beneath my blouse, I got rid of the tormenting saree in a jiffy.

“Game for some fun?” Raga winked.

“Hell yeah! Spin the bottle.” I said, downing a tequila shot.

We spent the breezy evening having pints of beer & playing dumb charades in Amethyst, one of our favorite hangout spots. It had great music in the background, cute guys to check out & an open-air dance floor to unwind.

After about getting the right amount of tipsy, which meant you could say ‘66’ without getting slurry, we left the place unwillingly, and the guitar music was so addicting that you’d want to spend an eternity there. “See y’all next week.” I hugged them. We were a group of 6 odd ducks, friends for decades, thick as thieves!

500 meters toward the Ambuja Kuchalaambaal Villa, the cover girl becomes a cultured girl. Draping my saree back, and plaiting my hair into tight knots, I trudged myself back home.

Stepping inside, I noticed everybody was in a hurry, like they were getting ready for an occasion. “Ma, what’s going on?” I asked.

“Here. Go change. Quick.” My mom said, handing over to me a saree & jewels.

“Sundari.” My dad’s voice thundered. “The groom’s family will be here in an hour. Get ready.” He ordered. Like always, it was an order & so I nodded, As though I’d got a choice, anyway!

Anxiety took over me. I wondered who he was or, rather how he was! Another Mr. Varadachari? God, please, no! I’d rather run away. Having cold feet by then was just an understatement.

Exactly after 60 minutes, getting down from a Bentley was an oily-haired, clean-shaved & ‘dressed like in the 80s’ kind of boy. Ugghh!

The first thing I noticed was the partition in the head. His hair almost stuck to his head, making him resemble an egg. Collared shirt with stripes? I wanted to hammer him. He didn’t seem evolved.

“I’m doomed,” I thought to myself, muttering all the curse words I knew. The name was a highlight too! ‘Shankara Siva Subramaniyan’, but then again, how better was mine? ‘Soppana Sundari’ a.k.a Ambuja Kuchalaambaal. Facepalm!

When all the coffee serving, parent-parent interaction, forcible nods, and plausible promises were done. They gave us ten minutes to get to know each other.

Totally unlike his looks, the way he spoke surprised me. He had a glint in his eyes & a mystery to himself. His answers & questions as well were razor-sharp & to the point. He had a deep voice, elegant body language, wit & intellect. Intelligence is lethal, I tell you! And as he left, It was clear as light that there was something more to him than what I could see.

The next few days went like a daze. While everybody at home was hyped up about the wedding, I was trying to decipher the guy-to-be. “Curiosity kills a cat,” they say, “Whatever!” I say. I took my car & headed straight to his house.

Needless to say, it was another version of my home. There was Gayatri mantra running in the background, and the scent of sandalwood lingered all over the place. His grandmother was knitting jasmine garlands seated by the pillar, and it was a typical Iyer house. They welcomed me with warm hugs & showed me around.

They had the whole family tree photographed and framed by one side of the wall. Leaning over a door, I looked at each picture. As I leaned a little more, it slightly creaked open to give me the shock of my life!

I stumbled into the room, and my knees grew weak, my jaws dropped, and my eyes opened wide. Glimmering in front of me was excellent artwork, an oil portrait of ME holding a tequila shot in one hand & a cigarette in another. Oh my god!

I stood speechless in front of it. The cherry on the pie? It had Siva’s sign sprawled across the bottom right. So he’s already seen me at Amethyst, and he knew it all and yet showed no trace of it when we spoke. After all the drama I did during the 10 minutes of conversation, my mischief was obliviously caught red-handed. How am I going to face him again?

Thinking about all this, something caught my eye in the background which was earlier out of focus. Right behind the painting stand was a guitar, oddly familiar, like I’d seen it somewhere. Oh! Amethyst! The guitarist. He had the same electric guitar, black in color. Woah! Plot twist?!

I received a call from Raga just then, “Hey! Padmaavat in the evening at 6. C’ya there.” came her prompt.

“Nah! There’s a slight change. Let’s head to Amethyst.” I punched my fist through plain air.

At sharp 6, we reached the place to find him, and there he was, playing in the midst of a group. He has always been the guitarist I obsessed about, but only now did I get to see his face!

Dressed in ripped jeans & a tank top, I went straight up to him & said, “So, Mr. Shankara Siva Subramaniyan, this seems to be our common hangout place!” He gave me a tequila shot & said, “Let’s raise a toast to my fiance.” Working his way through the cords, he sang a song for me.

With his hair ruffled, having a slight stubble & also a dimple that I hadn’t noticed, he looked suave & handsome. He wore denim & a plain black t-shirt that highlighted his oh-so-hot muscles. Wit, humor & looks combined, I found myself falling for all of him! *Wink, wink* Shankara Siva Subramanian weds Soppana Sundari, a.k.a Ambuja Kuchalaambaal!

• Aishwarya Rao