3+3+3=whirlwind

The second 3 days is where things turn a little bit more interesting. Now many people will agree with me and many wont, but I put my foot down for that custom/rivaaj called as mehendi where sisters+aunts+cousins of the bride come to my house and subject me to a round of mehendi, grabbing a finger in the end and demanding money to end the torture. (hehe). Henna fine, custom not fine, reason don’t ask. So you would believe that there would be an outcry from the bride’s family about it. Gosh the only outcry was that from my family. No one could explain why this custom came around, no one could explain why green bangles are the norm – but all they were scared off were some superstitions. Surprisingly I found support from all my cousin brudders. Each one had opposed it, but fallen to it in the end, but was happy that I was still standing. In the end all the womenfolk from my house went to A1’s house and had a good time. Good ending to a useless debate.

Day of the nikaah, people were still arriving and we were still picking them up from the railway station. (its India – airports are luxuries). 3 hours to nikaah, and we brothers decide to take a little detour – a detour to find out what are the preps at A1’s house. (Our nikaah was at A1’s house itself). Detour was fine, peeped into their preps, and then zoomed off. Coming home we discover that my contemporaries from my in-laws had come to probably trade my wedding clothes for useful moolah. Since I was out on a detour I missed them, and they probably left disappointed. Feel bad about missing them – because this was not like a blind rivaaj/custom but just some fun time with no superstitions attached. When we reach home – the elders remind me that some picky maulanas will not accept anything except hard cash for mahar – and that was not what we had planned. It is great to have brilliant minds that have experience plenty of weddings to classify the maulanas into useful categories. Last minute arrangements were made. There was still a problem with number of drivers and number of cars. Just the usual at weddings since we always have more guests than the cars to transport them and public transport (rickshaws/taxis) don’t always suffice. Turns out that being the groom I cannot drive, and hence I am at the mercy of others. Things get resolved and we arrive to the nikaah. Stage is set, paperwork gets introduced, maulana wants cash, maulana gets debate from elders, maulana explains his position, cash he gets, wakil etc get signatures, T1 is staring through all these procedures, and gullibly signs on the dotted line when his turn arrives, T1 tests mic, T1 proclaims his nikaah, T1 reads dua with maulana surprised that he did not have to repeat, maulana hugs T1, T1 hugs everyone else in the long line, everyone else in the long line hug T1’s dad/mamoo/wakil. In this organized confusion, A1 magically appears on the stage and T1 heaves a sigh of relief. Now time to stare into the light and smile at every guest on the stage, posing with a few as necessary. C+D+N+S+K arrive and ask about the food and also wish us (Never was happier). Lots of photos, thanks to WK. Great food in the end and a non-tearful bidaaii. Cousins smuggle some money out from me for allowing us to enter into the house. No rituals are allowed (right somebody spoke of kicking milk can) only entering with the Koran.

Day of walima was even better. Jetlag finally gets to me, and I pass out at 3pm and wake up at 6pm. The walima invite mentions 7pm as the time, and I am identifying myself with all the people whom I had labeled as late-latifs. Turns out I am pretty quick after a nap. We were present at the open air garden at 7:15pm. Quite impressive, huh!! Guests pour in, faces that were kids in front of us are suddenly standing 3-5 inches above my head. Good reunion follows with all the people, but then the light on our faces becomes unbearable. M-the photographer remarks occasionally on my sullen face. Again C+D+N+S+K wish me, and then return after savoring the food and all their lip-smacking made me wonder if A1 could manage the stage by herself while I took a small walk to the food. Here is where married life comes into the picture and then I wonder about the food but mention it not to A1. Finally we take a big Sheikh family photo spanning multiple generations and then food. Food never tasted better. And then TaDaaah welcome to real married life. Festivities are done.

Seriously parents rock!!!! To bring about so much for their son sitting far away takes a lot of energy and inspiration and hardwork. If you really feel that this was anyways a fun event (and even if you don’t), please remember my parents in your duas/prayers as this is the only gift that I can give them.