The Monsoon Wedding
No, not the movie. The one that I was busy attending since the past few days. It had most of the attributes of the movie itself. A typical punjabi wedding replete with lots of noisy relatives, chaos, fun, punjabi food, punjabi music, punjabi gaalis, lecherous elderly male relatives and of course not to forget the main ingredient – rain. All this was sans sex in the closet, (but then who knows, mebbe i wasnt aware), sans chunari chunari item numbers, sans a separate love story blooming for the household helps… ahem.. again, who knows mebbe i wasnt aware.
The functions started with the shagun ceremony. Since I was from the groom’s side, I didnt expect any mehendi wala at the occasion, but we did get one. I managed to get mehendi put on both palms, leaving the first three fingers of my right hand (utility fingers). Instead I got a pattern, something like a bracelet done on my wrist. Unfortunately, I also managed to smudge my mehendi in several places all over my brand-new-stitched-for-the-occasion-baby-pink suit. Reached home at 3am and got up at noon the next day. I had already done away with the henna at night out of the sheer frustration of not being able to use my hands. Still had a whole lot of things to rush up with. Had to buy some nice matching jewellery with yet-another-stitched-for-the-occasion suit.
This was the first time I had decided to get a proper hair-do from a parlour. For that I had to wash my hair and keep one and a half hours aside for the hair-do “job”. Suddenly after lunch, I realised that all these things on the agenda were just not possible if I had to leave on time. Leaving “on time” is something of a major debate at home. My dad always wants to be punctual at all these great indian weddings, where even the hosts are not present anywhere near the venue at the afore mentioned time. We (the rest of us) have given up by trying to prove each time in each such function that we happen to be the only ones at the venue, with no one to greet us except empty chairs and tables. sigh..Anyway, at 3pm I still had to wash my hair, buy myself some stone jewellery from Janpath, keep aside 1.5 hrs for the hair-do and of course get ready as well by 6pm. Impossible! Not to forget the rain which anyway slowed down things to a great extent. Some quick fixes were required.
I went to a neighbour to borrow some appropriate stone jewellery set to go with my suit. Got it thankfully and she also suggested a good parlour from where I could get a hair-do. She even suggested the kind of style I should go in for. Err.. I hadnt even decided on the parlour and hair style 😛 till then, so that saved me some time. But my luck didn’t last long. I went to the parlour in my car even though it’s a 5 minutes walking distance but spent half an hour going round and round the place that I thought the parlour was situated in. Because of the rain, there was just no one I could ask for directions.. the roads were absolutely empty! I was completely lost. I called up my neighbour again for directions, which were what I had already followed anyway. Finally I got one person from whom I clarified where the parlour was and reached the building which didn’t look like a parlour from any angle. There wasn’t any signboard either. I decided to ring their doorbell anyhow. I repeated the exercise of ringing the doorbell 3 times at 3 different entrances of the same building and finally the last one happened to be the entrance to an underground parlour albeit without a signboard!
Once in, I explained my predicament and also the fact that I was short of time. I blurted out exactly as instructed by my neighbour. “I want a bun which generally models and ppl like miss universe make”. The parlour ppl rushed up their act. About a 100 pin stabs in my head later and after being lighter by the weight of at least 1000 hair strands, my work was done. Not to forget the 250 bucks which exited my wallet quickly and the 1.5 hrs i spent here unlike the quoted “20 minutes”. Here I was, with a hair bun which was straight out of “The 70’s show” according to my sister. I was already late, but rushed anyhow, got ready and left. On the way, in the car, final touches were given to my appearance (read makeup, of which I am no connoisseur). I also managed to collide my head with the car’s ceiling and thus the bun several times in the car. I wasnt used to the sudden increase in height. But the bun was ok, courtesy the loads of hair spray that the parlour female had doused me with. So much so that I couldn’t even smell the favourite perfume I had sprayed. I also carried my transparent-pink-japanese-umbrella a la “Monsoon Wedding” style lest the baraatis would have to do some rain dance.
Once at the venue, where the baraat had to assemble, we were as usual earlier than the main baraatis themselves. The grooms sisters are supposed to tie a thread on the mare which the groom is supposed to ride. After this, the sisters feed the mare some horsegram or rather the pulses made of horsegram. All this hoopla got over and we went to the main venue of the wedding. Thankfully the wind was pleasant and there was no sign of rain (yet). Some of the guests for the wedding were foreigners. Before we knew it, they were clicking our snaps with great zeal. As my cousins and I waved at them, one of my “graameen” aunts slapped my back with a “bas karr!” (stop it). Maybe she thought I was having a major case of “chadti jawani”!!
I caught people staring at me – dunno whether the stares were appreciative or curious or plain amused. After all I looked like straight out of “The 70s show”. But I liked it myself. I didnt stay for the pheras since I was quite dogtired already with a previous night out. Left for home around 12:30am. The moment I reached, the skies poured. Maybe the heavens also shared the tears of the new bride.