There are a lot of things you can do on a summer evening. You can watch the latest Bollywood movie, read a book, just hang out with your friends, or even better, stalk others on Instagram.

But, obviously, my family had 'better' plans.

So that particular Sunday evening, I was stuck in some cousin's marriage, whose name I had never heard of until that fated day, let alone actually spoken to. If you have ever visited a relative's marriage in India, you will know exactly what I am talking about.

You can see your ten thousand relatives there from all around the world asking you about just everything (even your personal life) and even if you manage to pass the scrutiny of the elders, there are always your parents who tell you to meet this one and that one-like 'meet Chitra maasi from US' or 'Vinay mama from Australia'. It's not like they are rude or anything. In fact, they are really sweet.

Too sweet.

They pull your cheeks and say the regular dialogue-"Oh my god! The last time I saw her, she was this tiny! And now look at her!"

Growth hormones.

But obviously I have to smile back sweetly and touch their feet for blessings.

Yes, I get American, Indian, Australian and all kinds of blessings.

And believe me; moving around in a heavily embroidered anarkali is not as easy as it seems...even after wearing converses underneath it!

After meeting the one hundred and thirty-ninth aunt who had landed from some unknown place (yes, I am counting), my head was spinning, and my eyes were continuously darting to the buffet at the end of the hall. They all looked so ready to serve it, but as my parents say and I quote, 'Its good manners to eat after half the guests have eaten.'

Sigh.

Amazing aromas came from the buffet line and I wondered whether they did it on purpose- you know, just stand there in black tuxedos behind delicious food under polished cloches way before we are allowed to eat. There were some guests here and there chewing on their food. I don't think their parents taught them the manners.

I spotted a chair in the corner and ran towards it before giving my legs a rest from all that marathon running. I closed my eyes melting into the new song they had tuned the loudspeakers to-'Chasing cars' my evergreen favourite.

"Hate these weddings, don't you?"

I looked up to observe the owner of that voice. My eyes fell on a tall, lean guy about my age with messy hair. He was wearing a black shirt paired with dark blue jeans.

Was he handsome? Yes!

Do I know him? No!

He pulled up a chair beside me and sat down, sighing heavily.

"Not exactly," I said answering curtly, considering the fact that I didn't know him at all. I was scanning the crowd in the large extensive hall searching for my idiot brother, who was supposed to be my hotspot tonight.

Back to the stranger beside me, he was looking at me awestruck.

"What?!" I snapped at him. I was never really the kind to enjoy someone staring at me.

"Nothing," he replied.

Well okay.

Summer evening, extremely hot, stuck in some cousin's wedding in a ridiculous anarkali (that makes it even hotter), strangers around me, can't find my parents, can't find my brother, can't even see the food I so want to pounce on and now, a stranger who was goggling me (though, he was handsome, I really didn't enjoy his staring).

God, save my soul.

'The food. The food. The food.' I kept chanting to myself.

"Tell me one reason that proves that you are enjoying yourself because I can't find any for myself," he continued, when I didn't respond to his comment earlier.

"Uhm..." I said, gulping down. "The food!" I exclaimed, pointing to the tables of buffet.

He laughed, a soft chuckle, which showed off his pearly whites and his cute dimples.

The ridiculous stranger beside me?

Yeah, he was damn cute!

"Well only if I could go and eat!" he stated, running his hand through his already messed-up hair.

"There are no restrictions, you know."

"Well, my mom says 'You can't eat unless half-"

"The guests have eaten," I continued and we both laughed.

"So, how are you here?" I asked, a question that was wandering in my mind ever since he sat down beside me.

"Well I am Sanju's neighbour."

"Sanju...?"

"Sanju, the groom."

"Oh! Of course, I knew that! I was just...,” I trailed off blushing and kicking myself under the chair.

"Converses with anarkali?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow, a smirk plastered across his face emphasizing his right dimple.

"None of your business!" I snapped back, pulling down my anarkali, so that my converses would be hidden.

"Cocky," he muttered under his breath and I was now ready to give him a piece of my mind.

The cute ridiculous stranger beside me?

Yeah, he was damn annoying!

"Oh! I am Arnav by the way," he said.

I counted till ten. I had to control my temper, especially during a family function.

"Trisha," I replied.

"And you are stuck here because..."

"The bride you see there, I am her third cousin or something."

"Or something?" he repeated with that same stupid one-eyebrow-raise thing and that stupid-show-off-my-dimple-with-a-stupid-smirk thing.

"Are you an Indian?" I asked raising my voice, because yeah, I was more than a bit annoyed at him.

"Well, yes!" he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, then you are supposed to understand!" I retorted.

I suddenly spotted my parents walking briskly towards us. The sight of my parents had never ever brought so much relief. Now, I had an excuse to move away from Mr. Stranger (though I now knew his name, he was still a stranger) who had made my headache worse than before.

They took me away saying something like 'meeting the newly wedded couple, giving them blessings and wishes for the future and blah blah blah.'

I turned and waved back at him. He looked a bit sad, I thought but immediately shook those thoughts away. After waiting in that never-ending queue to just get on the stage, we met the 'Sanju' and his wife. We posed for a photo but suddenly, the cameraman lowered the camera and said that the earring of the bride had gone out of place (thanks to my mom's infamous bear hugs).

The make-up woman came running on stage. She was a tiny woman who had more make-up on her than what she was carrying. She immediately fixed the earring, re-applied some lipstick and blush and walked towards the front of the stage to where the cameraman was standing to see if the bride looked alright from his angle.

She stayed there for our shoot. I so just wanted to get off the stage. The camera's flash had nearly blinded me, and I tripped on the camera wires as I headed down. The wires got lifted up and tripped up the makeup woman who was walking back to wherever she had come from, but unfortunately and unlike me, she could not balance herself and fell off-stage (screaming shrilly, may I add) on the CAMERAMAN and they both went tumbling down the carpet spread across the hall.

Wow, okay.

The noise around the hall dropped to pin-drop silence. Adults gasped in horror as the makeup woman tried to untangle herself from the cameraman (who I think was personally enjoying himself. Well, it was not every day a lady toppled over him).

Teenagers clapped and whistled, the waiters looked amused and the children pointed to both of them and laughed. Some others tried to help them up. In normal circumstances, I would have just fake-gasped in horror while I would be laughing my arse off inside.

But since I was the cause of this nuclear chain reaction, I really didn't know what to do. The bride and the groom looked stunned too.

My parents were really, REALLY angry at me. My parents pulled me off the stage with my mom angrily hissing at me. Once off the stage, my mom ran off to see if both of them were alright and to apologise on my behalf. My dad looked at me sternly and said, "That was a bad one, Trisha."

I loved my dad and he very rarely got angry at me but whenever he did get, I was in deep trouble.

"But papa, it was-" I began to say with tears in my eyes.

"That was amazing, sissy," my brother exclaimed walking up to us with a huge grin on his face.

"Where had you gone?” my dad asked him. My brother scared of my dad's stern voice, cowered behind me.

"I--I was," he stuttered failing to come up with an excuse for the first ever time.

My dad walked away, angrier than before. I face-palmed myself. People were staring at me, a scowl plastered on their faces. I just looked down, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about them, I personally thought that was the best thing you have ever done in your life." my brother cooed beside me.

"Oh! Shut up!" I exclaimed.

Honestly, I was angry with myself for being such a clumsy idiot; I should have seen those stupid wires! I thought angrily to myself.

Suddenly I noticed a smiling face amongst the scowling faces looking at me. I met eyes with its owner. Arnav, the messy-haired-dimpled-annoying guy was smirking again with that irritating raise of an eyebrow.

"That was fabulous," he mouthed. I looked away unable to hide my blush of embarrassment.

***

On the two-hour drive back home, my mother kept mumbling about how the maasis and maamis were all surprised that her daughter could create such a nuisance. I had completely given up explaining to my mother that it was completely unintended.

My mother was fuming, literally. I could feel the heat as I sat beside her in the car. Well, they didn't die right? They were not even injured! I wanted to scream at her.

"That lady was so ashamed. She was crying. All because of your daughter," she told my father. My brother kept nervously glancing behind.

The scenario was worse due to the eerie silence of my father.

What's even worse?!

The food was horrible.