So the wedding evening arrives and we go to help Jane get ready. Ostensibly. We actually end up blitzkreiging her with camera flashes and make ourselves useful by feeding her and helping her cousins do up their saris and drapes. Jane was quirky as usual.. no shadow of tension on her, or atleast none relating to getting into a lifelong commitment. She had more earthly worries - toget the perfect balance between being a Punjabi and Kashmiri bride.

We don't know if she hit it to her satisfaction but we thought she was beautiful. That's Corey in the bg taking the sanp. She's a professional. Our Bride is captured and waiting.

And Bingley arrives. On the horse weighed down by a silver crown and a garland of ten rupee notes (one of which i stole as souvenir). He was happy and dancing and most importantly... before time.

Corey joined the baraatis....

... and danced with the more than ready wife-to-be.

As Jane and Bingley got wed, we got fed and tried to keep ourselves close to the fires. It was a middle of the night wedding in Capital's winter. We shivered and sneaked out to the car park for medicinal alcoholic intake.

That's all us girls at the wedding bar Jane who was busy -

Getting married.
All the best to two people who are like babes in the woods. Warm hearted, generous, naiive, sweet and worrying to all those who love them.

Happy married life.

Back from Surajkhand we indulged in a bit of R & R. Bee and I got out nail polish only to inspire a revolution. The conversation wandered around to French manicures and the MEN summarily dismissed the beauty of it as 'paying good money to make your nails look more like nails... pink and white.' We groaned.
Dundee and Mr. George decided that the nail industry lacks imagination and soon i was being used as a celebrity promotional client. (Read: guinea pig). Armed with his Swiss army knife and an array of polishes Dundee proceeded to paint faces and landscapes (cough) on my nails. i do have a close up but i'm sparing you guys.

Then we headed out to The Groom's Cocktail Party... better called the Gadda and Whisky Fest. We had a hous eto ourselves and a chef. Starters appeared at a blink and you inhale food rate and we drank away. The night was cold and we were warm. We drank to Bingley....

... and ragged him a bit. Question-Answer Round.
D: You guys done it yet?
B: You can't start with the one crore question.. you got to start with a grand.
hmmm.. he has a point.
D: When did you first know you liked Jane?
B: At the alumni meet.
(he claims he doesn't remember the song playing. We don't really believe him.)
We taped it all for the Bride. And also passed on a message from her - Be On Time.

The excesses of the night before forgotten and with true adventurous spirit.. we got on the road again.. this time for the Surajkhand Mela. Varying reports told us it was 'far', 'very far', 'mayhem', 'madness' but we had resolved to go.

On reaching Surajkhand we came up with a plan in case of anyone getting lost or wandering away from the others. We would meet under this archway. Dundee disappeared half way thru the plan and the rest of us stuck together anyway.

There was performers ina every segment of the mela.. singing or dancing or both or performing with puppets. These Rajasthani women were fabulous in their dazzling colors and dervish whirls. I never have a camera. If i did what fascinated me most about them were their feet. They were lined and lined and lined not just on the sole but also up front. And so beautiful with their thick anklets and those lines of dance.

This was one of many transformed rickshaws roaming the place. Little kiddies were taking rides but surprisingly it didn't strike me to take one. I am now desolate at the missed opportunity. I'd have been horse riding! It's so jazzy.

This was a mask shop. I loved the sadhu.

And this burst of colours was a shop of window hangings and stick puppets. There camels that had every joint moving so that at one instead of stooping to sit it was as if the camel is beheaded. And there was Hanuman and Ravan (both of whom Dundee purchased). The paper is translucent and coloured so that it's like stained paper art and you stick it on your window and it slooks pretty. I decided that when i have kids i'll have one window in their room with different art in each pane - so Ravan and al elephant and a horse and all that. Only later when i met Dundee he tells me that the translucent material is not thick paper oiled over as i had thought but rather goat skin!!!! Ack.

Wandering about the expansive grounds we came upon this man selling jaljeera. He was performing for his audience with panache and flare and a mechanically fluid grace in the selling of his wares. We went back to him when we got thirst again.

There was this huge bunch of students with their faces painted posing for photographs. I think they were addressing issues. The girl with the pink wings is i think a statement on the girl child as an angel.

And finally... there was this man with his magic movie machine. And i'd see a fairy tale unfurl with every circle of his and like a wand being waved. Yeah right. He was showing a string of unrelated posters taped together so suddenly there was a chubby baby followed by a film poster and then a valley scene. Sigh. why can't people be a little more enterprising. Is a story too much to ask for? Does anyone know what this machine is called? I think i want one.

Bee took concept shots that only she understands the deep significance of. Kind of like Calvin (of Hobbes fame) saying that when you pander to the clichés and the majority you’re actually mocking them and hence there is true irony in your commercial art. That’s the best I can say about her photography skills. Dundee on the other hand is a better showman. He looks the part of a travelling photographer. His long hair, foreign looks and lack of Hindi certainly helps him in the country. So he wandered up to some bandwallahs loitering around a subway in their best and with trumpets and drums. Dundee asked to take some photos. They agreed with alacrity and soon enough he was surrounded. The photos taken with much smiling and posing with gleaming instruments Dundee turned to leave. One of them band guys says in hindi, “let’s take money from this f%&$er.” Dundee says, “hindi aata hai.” The band wallahs burst into guffaws as they correct him, “aati hai.” But fortunately they let him go.

I was having a great time. This was the first time I’ve been to a wedding where we are spending more time roaming around and getting drunk than attending mehendi’s and sangeets et al. The only downside was that given the size of Capital we hardly saw Jane at any time other than for the have-to-be-attended functions. The first day Dundee picked up Bee, Corey and I. We dumped our luggage and headed to Chandni Chowk by the metro. The magnificence of the new travel system stumped us hicks from different towns. Cesspool can only dream of such space and streamlined traffic. Once at CC we walked around, drank lassi, marveled at the brownness of everything and ended up walking around the Red Fort.

The Beginning of a Deservedly Cheesy Film

Tang tang ta tang tang tang ta tang… Friends continue their walk into matrimony. Audrey (now rechristened Jane) wed her Bingley last weekend. The nuptials were in Capital and a bunch of us friends from college put up together at a flat. I can almost imagine the nostalgia this weekend will evoke in later years.
“Ohh... that was some trip… we missed the main function coz we were stuck in traffic for three hours.”
“God! Remember Gopi and his strange moaning! Dundee thought it was the pigeons.”
“Thank God we found our luggage!”
“But I lost my earrings.”
It’s funny how the hazards of a trip are so much more entertaining than the main event.

How You Doin'?

When I look at photos of Piper’s wedding I cringe to see the facial hair and the gaudy gold on red clothes, the bad haircut and the shararas. But when I think back on it I remember flirting, I remember smiling and holding my own and giggling with Sky over various men. Then somewhere along the way life became serious business. Simple joys like matching wits, exchanging inconsequential’s, charming with no serious intent began to seem like a waste of time. I lost an art that can give almost as much satisfaction as a well finished poem. The force was not with me.
The last weekend I felt some of the old joy seep back in.
I was a bit shy and a little hopeless but I managed. There are two kinds of power – when you don’t care at all and have nothing to lose and when you care and really want something. All I’ve wanted for some years is a fleeting ability to sparkle.
Last weekend at Jane’s wedding to Bingley, I was sharing a room with Bee (newly engaged) and Corey (newly married). They very kindly passed on any and all eligible men in my direction that id didn’t know what to do with. They also shared their knowledge with me.
“Always go in with what you expect, what you’re willing to give up and what you’re not.”
I apply this to my single status and come up with some interesting answers. Hehhe.
That night at the cocktail I got high, kicked up my heels and danced like a mad woman. I could feel the amazement in a few of my old classmates. Bharat says astounded, “How people change.” I’m too lazy to correct him. I don’t think they’ve ever seen me drink, dance or drink and dance.
There’s nothing like high heels and a little shimmy to shake loose the courage in you. If it wasn’t for my hangover I’d have been invincible.
The next night Bee and Corey requested a repeat performance of a bed time story. What little confidence still hid inside me now unfurled. There’s nothing more alluring to a story teller than to find an eager listener. And strangely enough when Bee started snoring in the middle of Kwaku Ananse and the Python I took it as a compliment.
The wedding night arrived. Jane was beautiful if a bit lost. It was a cold night and fires littered the grounds. All of us huddled here and there. When Bee and I stumbled upon Long Haired Hot Cousin Of Bride she pushed me towards him. I was scooping out ice cream for self when he wandered by and started small talk. I indulged in some non verbal communication. He asked for some extra dollops of chocolate sauce and I couldn’t squeeze hard enough. I passed the bottle back to the waiter and sidled away. Bee shut her eyes and shook her head. But I must have done something right (or my backless blouse did) coz LHHCOB came up to me later and started a conversation. Bee grinned and I blushed. In small ways that night I shone a bit. It was pointless but it felt good. I laughed secretly and hugged it close. And when morning came the light stayed. While waiting at the airport for our flight a sweet scene played out. In the midst of the sleepy airport a young man helped me take off my stubborn jhumka.

I re-learnt the pleasure of a moment that doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the moment.