Once the families spoke formally, events began moving faster than emotions.
Dates were discussed first.
Then muhurthas.
Swara wanted the actual wedding small.
Very small.
“Enough re,” she told Sudharma one evening while both sat outside a café after another exhausting shopping session. “I already survived one wedding circus.”
“Hmmm.”
“No stage drama. No five thousand rituals. No unnecessary people staring.”
“Good. Less expense also.”
“That is your romantic contribution?”
“Financial stability is love.”
Swara laughed tiredly.
Eventually both families settled into a structure that strangely suited everyone.
The wedding itself would happen in a small temple.
Only:
close family,
immediate relatives,
and the few people who had genuinely stood beside them through the difficult years.
Around fifty people at most.
The reception however would happen that evening in a resort setup near Bengaluru.
That compromise satisfied society enough to stop interfering further.
The weeks before marriage disappeared into logistics.
Invitation cards.
Temple coordination.
Reception decorators.
Jewellery pickups.
Blouse trials.
Food tasting.
Relatives suddenly remembering emotional closeness after years.
Sudharma moved through most of it with functional exhaustion.
Swara handled it better externally.
One evening while driving back after invitation distribution, she suddenly asked:
“Nervous ah?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Hmmm.”
“What hmmm?”
“I’m too tired to feel properly.”
His family still remained emotionally restrained outwardly.
But underneath, movement had already begun quietly.
His mother now called for practical things instead of philosophical concerns.
“What color shirt for reception?”
“Did you book rooms?”
“Temple priest confirmed ah?”
Every practical question carried participation hidden inside it.
Meanwhile Swara’s parents travelled personally across towns inviting his relatives.
Sudharma respected that deeply.
One night he told Swara quietly over call:
“Your Appa and Amma have more courage than all of us.”
Swara remained silent briefly after that.
Then softly:
“They just got tired of fear re.”
The wedding week arrived faster than expected.
Sudharma had taken leave to handle arrangements from the city side.
The reception resort still looked half-finished.
The temple timings kept changing.
Someone always forgot something important.
His family would arrive only the night before the wedding.
That had been the plan from beginning.
Only his immediate family.
Meanwhile Swara remained surrounded constantly by family, cousins, rituals, shopping noise.
Sudharma spent most evenings alone inside his apartment after running around the city all day.
Bills.
Decorators.
Calls.
Payments.
Then silence.
One night while ironing clothes himself badly at midnight, he suddenly stopped and laughed softly.
No noise.
Just one bachelor apartment and badly folded sherwanis.
The doorbell rang around nine next morning.
Sudharma opened the door expecting delivery.
Instead Ashu walked in carrying backpack and grinning shamelessly.
For one second Sudharma froze.
“Ayyo!”
Ashu dropped the bag dramatically onto sofa.
“What Anna. Getting married quietly ah?”
“You idiot. When did you come?”
“Now only.”
Ashu was Chikki’s son.
More brother than cousin.
He had recently started working in Bengaluru and carried permanent untidy energy wherever he went.
“You didn’t tell anyone?”
“Then surprise how?”
Sudharma laughed properly after days.
The apartment instantly felt less empty.
Within one hour:
tea cups everywhere,
music playing unnecessarily,
wedding clothes spread across chairs,
Ashu criticizing all of Sudharma’s preparation skills.
“This ironing looks like emotional damage.”
“Shut up.”
“Bhabhi accepting this itself is true love.”
Around three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang again.
This time before Sudharma could even stand, Ashu shouted:
“If one more relative comes, we charge entry.”
The door opened.
Chikkappa walked in laughing before anyone spoke.
“Ayyo groom looks already tired.”
Sudharma smiled helplessly.
“You also came suddenly ah?”
“What suddenly? Family wedding no.”
His Chikkappa removed footwear slowly and looked around apartment dramatically.
“So this is bachelor luxury ah?”
“Please don’t start.”
“Too late.”
Within minutes he had already begun:
childhood stories,
embarrassing incidents,
Daddy jokes nobody escaped.
Ashu nearly fell off sofa laughing while Sudharma regretted existence.
Around evening his brother finally called.
Sudharma answered casually while searching online for additional flower vendors.
“Hmmm?”
“Small update.”
Whenever his brother started like that, trouble followed.
“What?”
“Everyone coming.”
Sudharma stopped typing.
“What everyone?”
“Everyone means everyone.”
Silence.
Then from background he heard:
children shouting,
women talking loudly,
someone apparently arguing about luggage.
“Bus booked,” his brother continued calmly. “Naani forced final decision.”
Sudharma sat down slowly.
“Who all?”
“Chikkis, Maamas, cousins… I stopped counting.”
“What happened to immediate family only?”
“Amma lost the argument.”
For several seconds Sudharma didn’t know what to say.
Inside the apartment Ashu and Chikkappa were now staring at him curiously.
“What happened Anna?” Ashu asked.
Sudharma looked up slowly.
“Whole family coming.”
Two seconds silence.
Then complete chaos.
“Ayyo where staying?”
“Rooms enough ah?”
“Hotels impossible now.”
“Call immediately.”
The next few hours became madness.
The three of them drove across Bengaluru desperately searching for accommodation large enough for an overnight bus full of relatives.
Most hotels were already full.
Reception season.
Weekend crowds.
Corporate bookings.
Everywhere same answer:
“No rooms.”
By eleven at night they finally found a large service apartment bungalow slightly away from the city center.
Too expensive.
Slightly unfinished.
Absolutely necessary.
“Book immediately,” Chikkappa declared before even seeing all rooms properly.
Sudharma stood inside the half-lit bungalow while advance payment processed.
Around him, Ashu and Chikkappa were still arguing about mattresses, blankets, and parking space.
But his mind had gone elsewhere.
An overnight bus full of relatives was on its way.
The same family that had once hesitated.
The same family that had once resisted.
They were coming.
All of them.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, Sudharma smiled.
Shanbhogue Publications 
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