.. I left out some very amusing parts of the wedding.
I was re-reading the previous post, and realised that there are a couple of hilarious moments from our wedding that I had left out. Given that the world can certainly do with some more laughter, here goes.
Like the time my dad said "It's alright, bring her!"
So there is a ritual where I'm supposed to pray to a certain deity and not talk to anyone. Not because of divine ego-issues, but because I'm supposed to concentrate on the prayer and my husband's long life and things like that. Right after this silent-praying is when I am supposed to be walking shyly to the mandap to be married. In between this prayer and shy-walking, I was supposed to change into a saree that is about six and a half yards (!) long. Very obviously, it takes time to tie these things. Doing it in about a minute and a half is a feat that, we discovered, is beyond the combined effort of even four people. Added to that, was the fact that I had to wear an elaborate hairdo and assorted jewels. My dad, whose attire consisted of a veshti (a length of cloth simply wrapped around the waist) and an angavastram (again, a length of cloth worn much like a stole), could not understand why it was taking people oh-so-long to get me ready. So while
I was re-reading the previous post, and realised that there are a couple of hilarious moments from our wedding that I had left out. Given that the world can certainly do with some more laughter, here goes.
Like the time my dad said "It's alright, bring her!"
So there is a ritual where I'm supposed to pray to a certain deity and not talk to anyone. Not because of divine ego-issues, but because I'm supposed to concentrate on the prayer and my husband's long life and things like that. Right after this silent-praying is when I am supposed to be walking shyly to the mandap to be married. In between this prayer and shy-walking, I was supposed to change into a saree that is about six and a half yards (!) long. Very obviously, it takes time to tie these things. Doing it in about a minute and a half is a feat that, we discovered, is beyond the combined effort of even four people. Added to that, was the fact that I had to wear an elaborate hairdo and assorted jewels. My dad, whose attire consisted of a veshti (a length of cloth simply wrapped around the waist) and an angavastram (again, a length of cloth worn much like a stole), could not understand why it was taking people oh-so-long to get me ready. So while
- my aunt, snowbeak, doofus and two other helpers were tying my saree;
- doofus's mum was doing my hair;
- my mum was carrying out another ritual on the side (talk about opportunism);
- my sister was putting my jewels on
- and a cousin was trying to convince me to at least powder my nose before going out,
my dad barged into the room and yelled things like "What is taking you people so long? They are asking for her. It's almost time" at anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in his way. To this, Doofus very reasonably said "Uncle, her saree is only half-done.." and my dad goes "That's alright. Bring her!".
Well, this obviously resulted in a Doofus whose expression was somewhere between utter amusement and panic and my mum yelling at my dad to see reason behind the fact that the bride can't come out with half her saree trailing behind her.
Like the time when the shy walking went out of the window.
As mentioned earlier, once ready, the bride is expected to walk towards the groom and eventually be married. Flanked by a couple of my aunts, I was supposed to be the personification of shyness, some coy looks, nervousness and some sorrow, given that I was leaving my parents' house forever. But glad to be out of that stuffy dressing room, I set of at a brisk pace, grinning at all and sundry. My aunts, who were supposed to be escorting me, were obviously not prepared for this display of sudden determination and were left behind looking at each other with disbelief, while I happily walked on; not realizing that something was amiss until I spotted someone gesturing frantically at me to slow down. Once my aunts caught up, they held on to me fearing another display of 'shameless eagerness'. I have a picture with both of them holding on to me and me grinning happily at the camera.
Like the time my hairdo and I went separate ways.
This'll be long, so please bear with me.
This is my absolute favourite part, and I'm ever so thankful to my stars that this did not happen during the wedding. In an earlier paragraph of this post, I mentioned a hairdo. This hairdo was supposed to have been tied around my hair and we discovered this fact some three minutes before I was scheduled to do my shy-walking. Now obviously, we had no string whatsoever to tie this thing with. Resourceful as ever, Doofus's mum found a bit of string that is usually used to tie the mouths of gunny sacks, and tied the hairdo around the false hair. Well, since the bride cannot be seen with such unbecoming strings poking out of her hairdo, this was covered with a bunch of fresh Jasmine flowers. "Very nice", you might say; but then, I'm allergic to Jasmine and can't be in the company of the pretty flowers for more than ten minutes without having a terrible headache.
To this day, I'm thankful to Doofus's mum for doing up my hair, which looks quite decent in the pictures. Of the splitting headache it gave me (which was aggravated by the fact that I had not eaten anything since I had woken up), the less said, the better. Anyway. Once married, we had promised to visit my 90-year old grandmother and my mum, dad, husband and yours truly piled into a tiny car and set out. Given that all four of us can't fit into the back seat of a car by any stretch of imagination, I was sitting on my mum's lap, and she was holding my hairdo in place.
Try to picture this.. my mum discussing the wedding with my dad seated on her left, and me talking to A sitting on my mum's right. Once we reach the destination, I get off the car and walk away. My mum, who is still chatting with dad feels her lap become considerably lighter, but does not realize that I've gotten off, since the hairdo is still in her hand!
Like the time.. well, I could go on and on, but since this is where I can stop without my imagination adding to fact, I shall.
