The big fat Indian wedding


Just a few days more and my best friend gets married. It has been an year of weddings. So many people got hitched. Must say, almost all my close friends have found their men. This friend of mine happens to be unique and special to me. Varsha Sharma. Yes! That is her name. Brilliant in studies and a doting daughter. There is no other way I can define her.

 

It must have been over a decade we are friends. We both happen to be Indian middle class darlings. While, I am a Bengali, my friend is a typical Sharma product hailing from North India. Like others, we have been also fighting with all the mundane challenges of everyday life. Running to get the bus on time, meeting the deadlines, timing up our next door parlor sessions, shouting out for the things missing at home, bargaining with the shopkeeper, buying the new jeans and adding pennies to meet all the ends. So, like this the years passed away and we realized we were were all set to marry. We made persistent efforts such as following all the rituals which would get a good husband, observing fasts on some week day, being good at out conduct, looks and impressing almost every man we encounter. In a nutshell, leaving no stone unturned.

 

Search began and suddenly, flood of proposals came in the house. While, someone wanted taller bride, the other wanted a girl who doesn’t wear spectacles. Crazy! On the other hand, someone was too shy to even talk amidst parents. Happens. Happens in India. I need to count how many men she served tea. Anyway, after serving lots of sweets to all the wrong men, she finally found her man. Someone from Faridabad got the voice that man was looking for son in law in Ghaziabad. Meetings happened and my already disappointed friend again appeared in salwar holding a tray of eateries in her hand. They looked at each other almost trembling and nodded a ‘yes’ to their parents. The following Sunday was the engagement and the following month will be witnessing the wedding. And my poor friend just knew the name. The typical Sharma Verma name is enough to make her happy and contented. His job, his height, his car and his family to be precise. His heart? Happens. Happens again In India.

 

The wedding is some days away. Arrangements have been made. Menu is set and the house is full of goodies. I am equally busy trying to be an ideal bridesmaid – getting her the make kit, holding her bag at the tailor’s shop and waiting for her to choose the right sandals. I will soon come up with the details once, the wedding is over.

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