Free biryani, anyone?

I taka care of the English choir in my church and we usually meet on Saturday evenings for practice.  To these inconsequential and no-guy sessions, I usually wear the first tee and jeans that I lay my eyes on when I open my wardrobe.  Usually they turn out to be the most crumpled or the most faded and I wouldn’t care much, either. 

On one such day, in addition to the crumpled tee-faded jeans combo, I also had my hair loose and unbrushed since I had just taken a hair wash. 

After practice, a choir member who was also a good friend, Gina (name changed to protect privacy), took my hand and said, "How about a plate of hot mutton biryani now?" she asked. 

My stomach growled in anticipation even as my mouth was beginning to form a modest "No thanks" for an answer.

"Come with me," she said and I climbed onto her Honda Activa. 

"But where are you taking me?"

"Oh, to a place very close by.  I just want you to give me company for this wedding reception I gotta attend."

My eyeballs popped out.  "What!!  Gin, stop the bike right now!"

She laughed merrily.  "Mutton biryani, Juhi!!"

"To hell with Mutton Biryani!!" I roared.  "I'll get you one from this hotel here!  Stop the bike!"

Oh like hell she listened to me.  If she did stop the bike, I wouldn't be writing this piece, would I?

So she rode on, with me wailing all the way.  I didn't look decent enough to go to someone's house, and here I was attending a wedding reception! 

So we reached.  And in we went, with me cowering behind the traitor-friend all the while.  Gina met her parents who were already there.   They were talking to a lady animatedly. 

"Hi aunty!  How are you," Gina called. 

"I'm good, dear!  How are you?" the lady said and turned to look at me.  I flashed a confident smile at her. 

"You are from our church, aren't you?" she enquired sweetly.

"Yes, yes," I nodded.  Good, I thought, I am not an impostor.  "My name is Juhi."

"Oh.  Well, well, you have biryani waiting upstairs, why don't you go eat?"

"Sure," we said and moved on. 

Gina looked at me with a wink.  "That," she said, "was the groom's mom".

So that's how it ended.  Oh, nothing major, you know.  Just that, the groom's mother knew me.  And she also knew that she certainly hadn't invited me.