Slight chill in the air. Dimly lit ferry lights. The unit ban was to perform that evening, which meant in addition to a trip down memory lane, it was also going to be alot of dance,music and daaru.
The Mehendi night though came with alot of pressure. One because I am a huge mehendi fan and two because one of my closest friends (I bet she is sheepishly smiling reading this) wanted ‘the best mehendi application’, because of her not-so great mehendi nights. With that in my head, I sat down for my mehendi, hoping to free by the time the guests started to pour in. Knowing me, my mehendi designs had been planned well in advance. For my hands we did a ‘wedding story’. It had a sequence right from the ‘varmalah’ to ‘sindhoor’. For my feet we created an intricate arabic net.
5 hours later,I was still not done but the revelry did..
The unit band was churning out one old classic after another and my men danced like there was no tomorrow.
“There is no instinct like that of the heart-Lord Byron”
We are usually not the goofy ones. Maybe he is. The boy and I are alike and unlike in equal ways. I still remember,for our first date he was ’10 mins’ late and Iectured him about how he was dating an army officers daughter and that time was really important to me, Most men would have flipped, but he stood there and smiled..What followed were alot of beers and endless stories.
‘Stealing kisses from him seems like second nature now’
Indian weddings,they say are the most lavish, most loud (well sometimes),grand,colorful and damn long..
This description fits the bill even better when you are from the Northern part of the country. Well, thank fully for me, my family has always been the subtle one so the wedding wasn’t going to be a pomp and show, but an intimate affair (well..almost).