Page 116 - Half Girlfriend

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'How much longer, Pandit ji?’ I said. My back hurt from sitting
cross-legged on the floor for over two hours. Marriages get done faster

than this. The village priest chanted holy mantras for my peaceful and
successful rule. Whatever.

Around two hundred people from Dumraon and nearby villages
had come to attend the ceremony. People sat on red plastic chairs.

Giant pedestal fans recirculated the hot air.

I recognized a few important guests. MLA Vijay Ojha, a sixty-year-
old man who had been in local politics for over forty years, sat in the

front row.The district collector and the police inspector sat next to him.
Local press reporters took pictures and hovered around them.

Finally, my mother presented the royal crown to Pandit ji; she had
taken it out of our family safe. It was one of the few precious items we

had left.
Pandit ji placed the two-kilo crown on my head. The crowd

applauded. My mother burst into tears. She gave me a hug—an
embarrassing public display of affection.

‘Happy now?’ I said, whispering in her ear.
‘My rajkumar.’ She hugged me even tighter.

I was sweating profusely in my velvet bandhgala suit. ‘Rajkumar is
melting in the heat. Can I change?’ I said.

I came down from the stage. Reporters made me pose for photos.

My mother introduced me to guests even as reporters took my
pictures.

‘Mubarak, Rajkumar sahib,’ said a young man in his twenties. My
mother introduced him as Akhtar Hussain, one of the two teachers in

her school.
‘Call me Madhav,’ I said to Akhtar, shaking his hand. He seemed

embarrassed at the suggestion.
‘Madhav, meet Tej Lal, another teacher at our school, and

Tarachand ji, the administrative officer,’ my mother said.