The Wedding Ring
Sonargaon Hotel had not started then in Dhaka. The Shahbagh Hotel was turned into Institute of Post Graduate Medicine. The elite wedding parties were then held at the new Inter- Continental Hotel. The others used the Ladies Club or Community centres for weddings.
We had gathered at the Inter-Continental for our friend Munir's wedding. The dinner was over, but the food was not that good. The traditional wedding food, Biryani, Chicken Roast, Lassi, or desserts somehow did not fit the very western environment of Inter-Continental Hotel.
Wedding feast over we were all awaiting for shahnazar, that auspicious moment when the bride and groom exchange glances on a mirror held under a canopy, and rings. The formalities of looking at each other were over, and now was the time for exchanging rings. A rather serious woman from the bride's side asked Munir to put the ring on the bride's finger while a friend from the groom's side jocularly said, "Yes, brother do it. Once you do it you are hooked forever, no escape from this." Everyone laughed. The woman, who was kind of a Master of Ceremonies, again asked Munir to put the ring on the bride.
Munir had the ring in his hands, but he made no movement to slip it on to the bride's finger. I do not know if others noticed it, but to me he appeared kind of inert, and his hand was shaking, but he finally did put the ring on the bride's finger.
The wedding ceremony was over, and we hastened to leave the hotel. It was well into the night, and it was quite risky to travel in the middle of the night in post liberation Bangladesh. There were people with all kinds of arms prowling all over the town. There was no telling what could happen on the roads, even though we had informed police about our event and route. The wedding was attended by a good number of top government officials, and we were pretty sure police security would be at hand. But we did not take any chance and had left for home as soon as the ceremony was over.
On our way back I accompanied Munir, the groom. My wife Rima left for my in-law's house with our son. In Munir's car his younger sister sat in the back along with Munir and his new bride. I sat in the front. The car was headed toward Gulshan second circle, with several other cars of the bridal convoy following it. I could hear the bride's unending whimpering at the back. It is wise to keep silent on such occasions. My friends had done the same at my wedding in the bridal car.
"Don't run away when we reach home," Munir said to me. "I have to talk to you".
"If you say so," I replied. "But should you not be talking to your wife instead of me?" I added.
"I have to have a conversation with you," Munir said. I nodded in agreement.
It was past midnight by the time the other formalities ended in Munir's house. Munir grabbed me as I was about to leave and took me to the lawn. Munir was a heavy smoker. He lit a cigarette and then asked me, "Did you notice my hand was shaking when I was putting the ring on my wife?" I nodded.
He looked at his wristwatch and said, "It is pretty late now. I will call you tomorrow, and tell you what actually happened."
I wondered about it all night. I knew all about Munir; I could not blame him if his hand shook while putting on the ring on his wife. What else could have happened? My mind went back to what I knew.
(To be concluded in the next issue)
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