Saturday, August 18, 2007

Before one decides to get married, they say, one should have a discussion with the prospective spouse on several important issues to ensure a meeting of the minds. So, dutifully, I had all the "important" discussions with my dearly beloved betrothed [before he became the dearly beloved betrothed] regarding where we would live, children, careers, parents, the works. And I thought that we had a happy meeting of the minds and could live happily ever after.

But alas! There was one important topic we didn't touch that all the self-help books and agony aunt columns that I so avidly read never told me to talk about...the subject of the wedding itself.

My approach to a wedding has always been simple. Get it over and done with minimum fuss and mess. So accordingly, I suggested we go to court, sign a slip of paper and be married. But, no! We're Indian. It doesn't work like that. If you think the Greeks had big fat weddings, we Indians make them bigger and fatter.

So as a compromise to the court wedding I timidly proposed the three step Maharashtrian alternative instead, which was
1. Wake up in morning.
2. Get married.
3. Have lunch
But this didn't find acceptance with my dearly beloved betrothed. He practically recoiled in horror when I suggested this. "You mean there'll be no sangeet? No hiding of shoes? (which is quite economical for him, if only he could see that) No, that just won't do." I was surprised; I had no idea he felt so strongly about his wedding; I always thought it was girls who had this ideal vision of their weddings, but it would seem that men too had their dreams.

So now I have given in and said that fine, yes of course, we'll go the whole hog, song and dance, saat phere et al but I'm not letting him spend more than the cost of his shoes on getting them back. I have to crack the whip at some point of time!

And then of course there is my mother to contend with. Her only daughter. Getting married. Much excitement. She has her own vision of how things should turn out. And so too my dad. He called me excitedly the other day to tell me that he had bought a suit to wear to the reception. Never mind I haven't a clue what I'm supposed to be wearing to my own wedding or reception, at least my dad and brother are sartorially ready.

My mum-in-law-to-be is also pretty excited. She's been preparing for the wedding for the last two years, ever since the dearly beloved and I broke the news to her that we were seeing each other. She's frantically shopping for kilos of sarees for me among other things and has been asking me complicated questions about relatives, invitations and wedding food.

So now I've devised a pretty simple solution to all of this chaos. I just say yes to everything. So conversations become a lot simpler and go somewhat like this...

My dearly beloved betrothed (who has no idea of such things): Make sure you buy size S sarees - all the ones you have so far are too big for you.
Me: Yes dear.

It's the only way I can get through the next four and a half months without losing my mind. Though I can't really guarantee that I will not kidnap my fiance a week before the wedding and drag him kicking and screaming into a registry office to sign on a slip of paper and be married. Long live the big fat Indian wedding.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Cafe Cough Up Day

Had dropped in at the Cafe Coffee Day in Versova last weekend and was confronted with a new menu with a cartoon figure dancing and advertising some DJ Nasha show for New Year. Now we were hungry, tired and thirsty and CCD seemed like a good place to grab a quick bite and move on. So we asked for a sandwich and pasta and as an afterthought requested a frappe too.

The guy behind the counter says “Well, we have a special New Year menu and so we can’t give you the regular frappe, we can only give you the Friendship Frappe”. So we took a quick look at the menu and reeled in shock. The Friendship Frappe was priced at a whopping 114 bucks!! As it is, the regular frappe priced at 52 bucks (plus tax) is a steal (that would be CCD stealing from me); but this was just plain extortion!!

So we declined politely, paid for the sandwich and pasta and turned to go when he says “Oh, by the way, the regular frappe is available, would you like one?” I would have really liked to have socked him in the face but settled for a disdainful look instead.

The last thing I heard as we were walking out was him asking some unsuspecting woman “Ma’am would you like a Ludicrous Latte?”

Friday, December 08, 2006

This probably isn't the most original thought, but I think that the smallest unit of time must be the time between a traffic light turning green and the first car beginning to hoot impatiently when waiting at a Mumbai traffic light.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

So now you know what you're letting yourself in for when you visit this case you didn't already.

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