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FirstParamjeetand the younger men from his family took to the floor, includingJaiveer.Theyperformed a group dance, all wearing the groom’s signature turquoise and gold.Theirmovements were exact and well-rehearsed and full of energy.Atthe end, cold fireworks spurted off the stage behind them.Notto be outdone,Ishaniand the ladies, draped in pinks and yellows, pushed the men out of the way for their dance—more feminine and graceful than the men’s, but with the same non-stop energy.So.Much.Jumping.
Jaiveermust have rehearsed them all for months to synchronise them so perfectly.Themen and women combined for a final show-stopping dance where confetti canons spurted pink and blue paper into the air.Afterwards, the bride and groom sank into their loveseat on the stage and watched performances by the children and a dance-off between members of both their families.Thecompetition was intense, culminating in a final showdown between a cousin from each side.Thebride’s cousin incorporated a lot of flipping into his.Hewon in the end, much to the vexation ofParamjeet, who carried on like he’d just lost theFIFAWorldCupin a shoot out.
TheBhangramusic continued to pump loudly from the speakers: women’s high-pitched voices and drum beats that madeFrancesca’sfeet itch.Thedance floor had opened up to all and overflowed with young and old alike.Sherecognised at least four famousBollywoodactors among the crowd.
Fora beat, she wondered ifKrishandJesswould have a wedding like this, full of celebration and joy.Jesswould fill out a bridal lehenga well with her svelte goddess body andFrancescadidn’t even want to imagine how handsomeKrishwould look.Shesqueezed her eyes shut and shook her head to dispel the image.Thinkinglike that would only make her sad and, right now, she wanted to be happy.
Normally,Francescawould film dances from the outskirts, never daring the fray of moving bodies.Shedidn’t want to risk being felt up byUncleBobor a horny groomsman either.Also, there was something about dancing in front of others that made her feel exposed.
Butat this wedding, the urge to sink into the melee and get some messy, energetic footage overtook her.Maybeit was because of her dance lessons.Maybethe music just made her feel jolly.Whateverit was, she decided to give in to the urge.
Slappinga 50mm lens on her camera, she waded in, hoovering up handheld video of arms in the air, hips gyrating, and bodies bouncing.Herown hips couldn’t help but sway to the music.
‘Havingfun?’ shoutedJaiveernext to her.
‘Thisis the best weddingI’veever been to,’ she said honestly.
Hetook her hand, and she let her camera drop around her neck, steadying it with her other hand so it didn’t bounce around.Theydanced next to each other for a few minutes, and she used some of the moves she’d learnt in his class.
‘Gladto know you were paying attention.’Hesmiled. ‘Waituntil you see the dance tomorrow.I’vegot fifty professionals taking part.’
Shelooked up with a huge grin on her face and sawKrishstanding on the stage, shooting down towards the rippling horde.Hiscamera concealed his features, but she knew his eye was on her.Ina moment of mischief, she turned her back towardsJaiveerand, keeping contact between them, she wiggled her body down to the floor and back up again.Thatwould teachKrishto spy on her.
Aftera few more minutes, she excused herself. ‘I’mstill on the clock.Seeyou later.’Shethreaded her way off the dance floor and found her kit bag to change to a wider lens.
Withoutwarning, a heaviness seeped into her limbs, and her energy dipped, making her head spin.Shegrabbed the back of a nearby chair to steady herself while the feeling passed.Thiswas another of her many symptoms, exacerbated by the fact that she’d been on her feet for almost ten hours.
Shechecked the time.Theirphotography and video service ended soon, and they could head to theB&Bto pass out.Itwould be an early start tomorrow; they were expected atBlenheimby 8AM.
Asthough she'd sent up aBatSignal,Krishappeared next to her, ever the knight.
‘Allokay?’ he asked.
‘Youdon’t need to check up on me.’Shesnatched her hand from the chair and stood up straight.
‘I’mnot,’ he said.
Shegave him a look.
‘Okay,Iwas.Youlook tired.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Ifit’s any consolation,I’mexhausted, too.’
Beforeshe could reply, a fit, middle-aged woman with strong eyebrows, kohled eyes, and a decadently jewelled yellow lehenga sidled up toKrishand asked, without introducing herself, ‘Areyou married?’
‘No?’ saidKrishwith uncertainty.Hethrew a confused glance atFrancesca.
‘Wonderful.Myname’sDivyaVerma,India’sbusiest matchmaker.’Shehanded over an embossed card with lots of fancy red writing on it.
‘Oh?’Hiswhole demeanour changed, his head tilting attentively to the side as though he was all ears.Francescadid not like where this was going.
Divyacontinued in a strong accent, ‘I’vehad my eye on you this whole night.Ithink you’d be perfect for one of my clients—a beautifulGujaratigirl, an artist.Hercareer is up and up.Ihave a hunch that you’d be a good match.AndIam never wrong.’
FrancescastudiedKrish.Heseemed to be considering it!Whatwas he doing?Hewas already taken, much to her despair.Andif she couldn’t have him, then neither could this woman and her beautifulgujjugirl.
‘He’sengaged,’ jumped inFrancesca, taking the card out ofKrish’shands, ripping it in two, and dropping it to the ground.
