An Indian Wedding

Part I- Shopping

My friend from my adoptive family in Nagpur is getting married. I have, like always, been entrusted with executing the details. As activities gain a frantic pace, I wonder whether it is the same during my marriage. I don’t remember, because at that time, I was too smitten and starry eyed to notice my family’s predicament organizing things and catering to my whims and fancies. This time as I run around on errands, I have a more panoramic view of the whole activity.

The bride (my friend) is having what in India is called love-cum-arranged-marriage and is by far the most desired way to tie the knot. She is pursuing her post graduate degree in surgery and like all doctors had met her prince charming in undergrad. Love bloomed, the guy proposed, she played hard to get for sometime and later gave in, families were informed, and from there, the respective families took over. Story of all couples lucky enough to have a “love-cum-arranged-marriage”.

I am taking part in organizing a Maharashtrian marriage for the first time and so am pathetically ignorant of the nuances. It took us (the bride’s mother, whom I call Aunty; me and sometimes a friend and/or a relative of Aunty taking turn to join us) a whole month to buy apparels for the betrothed couple, jewelry for the bride and gifts (loads of sarees, matching bangles, bindis, some silverware and a few suit lengths for the men). The fact that Aunty is a shopaholic did not make things easier. In every shop she goes to, she finds something that is “meant for” herself and “must buy”. So as November end approaches, she has accumulated half a dozen sarees, a few pieces of jewelry and some household items that she felt she “must get” but her daughters and I know for a fact that she would not need the stuff for at least a year.

Getting sarees for the bride was easy; material had to be silk (Indian marriage without silk are unthinkable), budget was not an issue and we were mostly able to come to unanimous decision about the colour of the sarees.

Our real test of patience started once we launched our mission to get casual dresses for the bride-to-be. Now, my friend does not have a figure to give the Shilpa Shettys and Jeniffer Lopezes of the world a run for their money. We are girls from kahte pitey (well-fed) families; we are what Obelix would call “well covered”. We can not buy all the dresses we like. So our war strategy went like: 1. Select all the dresses that would camouflage the bride’s waistline bulge; 2. Select the ones she liked; 3. Try each of them (while doing so, categorically ignore the growing line and mounting frustrations outside the trial room) and finally, buy the item that take the eyes off the tummy, flaunts her very fair colour and looks cool, casual and fashionable (strictly in that order). The process is hugely time consuming and could be repeated at max. 2 malls an evening. The ordeal left us all drained but we braved it all and finally now, at the end of four tiresome weeks we have won the battle and created the bridal wardrobe of casuals. Days were reserved for distributing wedding invitations to friends and family. As the job is yet to be completed, a post on this experience is coming up next.