IT’S not the bindings that come with marriage that scare me, it’s that five (or even more) day fiesta that puts me off. I get nightmares at the thought of sitting with henna applied to my hands and feet for endless hours, people coming and going and everybody considering it their most important obligation to make sure that the bride is never left alone (even when going to the washroom), sabotaging all the plans to take a shower before the dreadful days of mayun are over.
Then comes the big day. You spend hours sitting with your faced caked-up, trying to kill your backache with a million-rupee smile, and in some cases you are even told not to smile for the fear of getting your skin creased by the effort. Worse, there is a stage specially set for the occasion so that your misery can be universally witnessed and commended upon in whatever manner the honourable guests wish.
Phew! It already leaves me breathless — not due to elation but suffocation. So you are laughing not because you think it’s funny but because you can’t believe you are reading this. Actually, my personal view of a perfect wedding is almost the one as in The Runaway Bride, if not entirely, for I can never look as polished-up as Julia Gorgeous Roberts, neither can my would-be hubby appear as cool as Richard Handsome Gere. And I don’t even know how to ride a horse. Plus, I really don’t expect the maulvi saheb to approve of a bride who practically runs away seven times (if I got the statistics right) before she finally agrees to tie the knot. Forget the maulvi, even the bride’s own dad would have a heart attack if she tried it even once.
So, I guess, the only choice left is the same so-called charming and conventional Eastern wedding in which everyone has their share of fun except, of course, the bride. But a girl’s got to do what she is expected to do.
I think I’m ignoring the groom. Poor thing, it’s not easy to make it through an hour-long photo session with all the people in the family, on both sides, who simply fall over each other to get their kids in as many shots as possible and that also squeezed between the newly-wed couple! And all this while the groom struggles to keep his headgear in place, which frequently gets a shoved by overenthusiastic wishers. This could go on and on and on and eventually an urgent effort by some elder of the family is required to control the situation. And then there is the director-cum-videowala, who constantly gives instructions about what the bride and the groom, and everyone else should be doing. Frequently, you have to repeat an action or freeze in a certain position to satisfy his directorial demands.
The festivities go on till the wee hours of the morning, for days and days, exhausting both the bride and the groom but not anyone else involved. So, to all my friends who are going to tie the knot sooner or later I wish you all eternal joy in wedlock. May you have the courage to face the beginning of the end.
