Continued from Wedding Part 1
A wedding Reception, ladies, gentlemen and others, may at the outset appear exciting. I was thrilled about wearing my beige suit and pose for the photographers. I was all set to devour the huge shower of attention that my better half and I would be getting. Things are not what they seem dear reader, and I learnt it the hard way.
At around 1800 hours on June 27th 2004, I struggled into my suit and Kicha, my best man, helped me with the tie. After dousing myself with Axe Pulse (I love it and I think it is the best deo in the world) I slipped into my shoes. My right eye twitched and my knee let out a slight tremor. I wanted to go take a crap. Kicha almost pushed me out of my room and there I was, in the limelight, with at least 200 pairs of eyes trained on me. I heard some gasps (of delight or disgust I do not know) and hurried murmurs. I must have looked good. Yea. Chitu emerged from her room and she was ravishing in her Zardoski (what do you call that Sari honey?) saree. The photographers pounced on us and in between snaps, I was waving at each known face in the crowd. Savi, Chithu’s sister had told me that she was going to play some rocking music.
MJ was screaming ‘Beat it’. Talk of irony and anti-climax.
People started trickling in on to the dais where we stood. And soon, the queue spilt out of the entrance of the wedding hall. Shaking hands and saying ‘Thanks’ became an involuntary physiological chore. I couldn’t relax my jaw and my cheeks were stuck in an artificial smile.
The photographer, a rude bastard, would take an eternity for a single snap. Right after the snap he’d growl at the guests on the dais to get off it. The guests would then beat it (the MJ number was playing in a loop all right) like bats out of hell. His assistants who were manning the supposedly ‘digital’ video camera chose to make me the guinea pig for their creative excesses. I was not aware of what was going on in the TVs as they were facing the audience. Think about this: my still would fly from the left and hers from the right and would collide, merge and explode into a flower… and the letters appear ‘TRUE LOVE’. There was little we could do, so we let them make a Hindi movie out our wedding video.
After close to five hours of standing and receiving blessings from the guests I was at the verge of collapsing. The ornate chairs on the dais went unutilized, for we never sat on them. When the clock was inching its way toward 2300 hours, we got down the dais, My knees buckled as I started walking towards my friends. We finished dinner and I was asked to retire to my room. ‘The groom is not supposed to venture out the hall’, one of her uncles put his foot down. So, Kicha and I had some Tequila (courtesy, Sudha. Thanks dee!). We did not have the shot glasses but how does it deter committed drunks? We used the cap of the bottle and drank Tequila. It was laborious and I was already tired. So, we decided to hit the sack. It was a dreamless, peaceful sleep. It appeared that I was asleep only for a minute when someone knocked on my door. ‘Get up, get ready for the Muhurtham!’ they were screaming. I was freaked out. I had good reason. For this was it. I had only a couple of hours of my bachelorhood left. A devilish crossed my mind, ‘what if I run away currently?’ But the picture of Dr. Chitra (that’s my wife) injecting an air bubble into my prominent veins stopped from ideating further. (...To be continued.)
Write to me: suman 'at' techwritersindia 'dot' com
Write to me: suman (at) sumankumar(dot)com