1

‘What do you mean,not enough rooms?’I said to Arijit Banerjee, the lobby

manager of the Goa Marriott.

‘See,what I am trying to explain is…’ Arijit began in his modulated,

courteous voice when mom cut him off.

‘It’s my daughter’s wedding.Are you going to shame us?’she said,her

volume loud enough to startle the rest of the reception staff.

‘No, ma’am. Just a shortage of twenty rooms.You booked a hundred.We

had only promised eighty then.We hoped to give more but the chief minister

had a function and…’

‘What do we tell our guests who have come all the way from America?’

mom said.

‘If I may suggest,there is another hotel two kilometres away,’Arijit said.

‘We have to be together. You are going to ruin my daughter’s wedding for some sarkaari function?’ my mother said,bosom heaving,breath heavy—classic warning signs of an upcoming storm.

‘Mom,go sit with dad, please. I will sort this out,’I said.Mom glaredat me.How could I,the bride, do all this in the first place?I should be worried

about my facials, not room allocations.

‘The boy’s side arrives in less than three hours.I can’t believe this,’she muttered, walking to the sofa at the centre of the lobby.My father sat there along with Kamla bua,his elder sister.Other uncles and aunts occupied the remaining

couches in the lobby—a Mehta takeover of the Marriott. My mother looked at my father,a level-two glare. It signified:‘Will you ever take the initiative?’

My father shifted in his seat.I refocused on the lobby manager.

‘What can be done now,Arijit?’I said.‘My entire family is here.’

We had come on the morning flight from Delhi. The Gulatis,the boy’s side, would take off from Mumbai at 3p.m. and land in Goa at 4.Twenty hired Innovas would bring them to the hotel by 5. I checked the time—2.30 p.m.

‘See,ma’am,we have set up a special desk for the Mehta–Gulati wedding,’ Arijit said.‘We are doing the check-ins for your family now.’

He pointed to a makeshift counter at the far corner of the lobby where three

female Marriott employees with permanent smiles sat.They welcomed everyone

with folded hands. Each guest received a shell necklace, a set of key cards for the room, a map of the Marriott Goa property and a ‘wedding information booklet’.The booklet contained the entire programme for the week,including

the time, venue and other details of the ceremonies.

‘My side will take fifty rooms.The Gulatis need fifty too,’ I said.

‘If you take fifty, ma’am, we will only have thirty left for them,’ Arijit

said.‘Where is Suraj?’ I said. Suraj was the owner of Moonshine Events, the

event manager we had appointed for the wedding. ‘We will manage last minute’

is what he had told me.

‘At the airport,’ Arijit said.

My father ambled up to the reception desk. ‘Everything okay, beta?’

I explained the situation to him.

‘Thirty rooms! The Gulatis have 120 guests,’ my father said.

‘Exactly.’ I threw up my hands.

Mom and Kamla bua came to the reception as well. ‘I told Sudarshan also,

why all this Goa business? Delhi has so many nice banquet halls and

farmhouses. Seems like you have money to waste,’ Kamla bua said.

I wanted to retort but my mother gave me the Mother Look.

They are our guests, I reminded myself. I let out a huge breath.

‘How many from our side?’ my mother said.

‘Mehta family has 117 guests, ma’am,’ Arijit said, counting from his

reservation sheets.

‘If we only have eighty, that is forty rooms for each side,’ I said.‘Let’s reallocate. Stop the check-ins for the Mehtas right now.’

Arijit signalled the smiling ladies at the counter. They stopped the smiles

and the check-ins and put the shell necklaces back in the drawer.

‘How can we reduce the rooms for the boy’s side?’ my mother said in a

shocked voice.

‘What else to do?’ I said.

‘How many rooms are they expecting?’ she said.

‘Fifty,’ I said. ‘Call them now. They will readjust their allocations on the

way here.’

‘How can you ask the boy’s side to adjust?’ Kamla bua said. ‘Aparna, are you serious?’My mother looked at Kamla bua and me.‘But howcan we manage in only thirty rooms?’Isaid and turned to my father. ‘Dad, call them.’

‘Sudarshan, don’t insult them before they even arrive,’ Kamla bua said.

‘We will manage in thirty rooms. It’s okay. Some of us will sleep on the floor.’

‘Nobody needs to sleep on the floor, bua,’ I said. ‘I am sorry this screw-up

happened. But if we have forty rooms each, it is three to a room. With so many

kids anyway, it should be fine.’

‘We can manage in thirty,’ my mother said.

‘Mom? That’s four to a room. While the Gulatis will have so much space.

Let’s tell them.’

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