I am technically not 'brand new' but the definition of relativity places me safely in the category. Bride- I am! At least in my heart. I still have to get over the hangover of getting married, of meeting friends whom I haven't seen in months/ years, those who took time off work to celebrate with us, family get-togethers and going through the best shots to put an album together.
Days before my wedding, I went through some excellently written blogs. Obviously they were wedding related. It is overwhelming how well people write and how there is hardly any matter left which haven't been explored. Right from which MUA to which designer to which hair dresser had been zeroed in, complete with the address and phone numbers. My excitement looked drab in front of this earnest dedication to everything 'bridal'. I will be honest here and say I was completely intimidated by the frenzy surrounding me. Was my excitement enough? Is my enthusiasm upto mark? I would hear of friends/ batchmates travelling length and breadth of the country just to get that right lehenga, the right nathni, the right colour for the dupatta, that profiles were being sent for Band Baaja Brides' and pre- wedding trips with in laws were being planned. I got the usual calls from friends and family (his and mine) on how the 'shopping' was going. I had already bought the wedding day saree. My briskness seemed like a crime. But how, where, from where! Saree, no lehenga? Oh! Bong!! and the blouse design?
The period of paranoia was far from over. I would read interview of to be brides, envy my friends who thought this was no age to get married, and had regular bouts of running away. I had to make up shopping lists and create wedding idea folders on my desktop to prove to my colleagues - yes! I am getting married.
I tried 'talking' to my then to be husband. Needless to say he just wouldn't understand the 'problem'. "But don't you love all the attention and shopping discussions?" That would just make matters worse. I feared I was losing my head and had to take constant assurances from him that he still intends to tie the knot with me.
Coupled with the above was the chronic problem of my appearance. The first time I broke my wedding news to one of my friend, she after a while of dilly-dallying asked me when do I start working out. The issue had been nagging me and now it was out in the open. My friend told me stories of how her already scrawny sister had to join a gym, because the camera adds 10kilos to you. My healthy build would mean utter disaster. So, I decided to take the bull by the horns, invested in a 6 months membership in a gym. The first month went smoothly, till the new instructor joined. The short stocky man was an absolute devil. It felt like it was his life's mission to help me on the path to a fitter and leaner figure. I smiled and bore with him as much as my sensibilities allow. One day he made a small effort to be friendly by asking If I am from Calcutta, I nodded and he mentioned how my t-shirt the day before - WHAT I LOVE ABOUT CAL? revealed it all. That did it. I can't explain why but I snapped. Rather my will to go back again did. I could no longer be taking fitness lessons from someone who had to use my t shirt as a conversation starter. Back of my head (a more sensible area of my brain) knew these were mere excuses from going back to the dreaded place called the gymnasium. Another month of guilt pangs and constant jibes from friends, and that chapter was closed. It left me with the learning of how successful opening a fitness center would be - the perfect biz model.
The wedding prep saga continued. I decided one thing within my power is my diet intake (I couldn't be more wrong). The deal with food is you are fine till no special occasion is around the corner. The moment your brain signals your tummy that there is your day is coming soon, you are doomed - donuts will scream out to you for attention, parathas will dance in front of your eyes, rice and rajma will make your day, banana milk shakes will make you drool and beer will be your new best friend.
In such circumstances was the poor me. Fighting yum food was a battle which I was losing swiftly. The days when I gave in (most days) I had sleepless nights with nightmares which constituted of blouse alterations. The most difficult factor to fight off in this dept was my very own mother. She would ladle my plate with food fit for an entire family. She would tell me how she wanted to make up for the time I stayed in hostels but the fact that she would take it in the literal sense, shook me. Did she actually think that I could be fed 7 years worth of home cooked meals? God only knows! My frustration with food reached a point where I desperately wanted to be married off to put an end to this madness.
How I wished I could pour my heart out to someone. Though I had friends and family excited to get a detailed description of my pre marriage jitters. but what surprised me was everyone who was unmarried had their set of jitters already in mind. If I didnt conform to them, then It wasnt correct. Leave correct, nobody is even interested to know what my concerns were. The only people who understood were the already married parties and the already married, i believe are a sadist lot. They would assure you getting married is the way to go and sit back and smirk as they see you walk down the same path, which ultimately leads to dirty nappies, jealous wives, ungrateful kids and Tulsi Virani soaps.
As I walked down a lonely path to the d-day, it was Amitabh Bachhan and Rabindranath Tagore who were playing on my mind. The concoction made out of Ekla cholo re and Muqqadar ka sikandar gave me a lot of peace and strength in my last few days. And why not? why should i not look for solace before I go head on into building a home and setting up base in sasural. Why are all men the supposed victims. Why are all the jokes on how men will be sacrificed on the alter of love and commitment. Ask anyone in this great nation of ours, there is always a 10 men to 1 woman ratio when it comes to the law of flirting. So, technically it is the ladies who are giving up some serious fun and a lot of attention from different quarters.
So post pheras as I sat there looking into the fire, lusting after paneer tikka and blueberry cheescake, it suddenly dawned on me how its the last day of my battle with food, wedding folders and blouse designs. Sensible me knows there are bigger battles to be fought, but I feel elated with the minute ones that I just overcame. With a smug smile and a sharp nod at my friend with the hipster, i feel warmth trickling down inside as my heart lightens up like its my wedding night
Days before my wedding, I went through some excellently written blogs. Obviously they were wedding related. It is overwhelming how well people write and how there is hardly any matter left which haven't been explored. Right from which MUA to which designer to which hair dresser had been zeroed in, complete with the address and phone numbers. My excitement looked drab in front of this earnest dedication to everything 'bridal'. I will be honest here and say I was completely intimidated by the frenzy surrounding me. Was my excitement enough? Is my enthusiasm upto mark? I would hear of friends/ batchmates travelling length and breadth of the country just to get that right lehenga, the right nathni, the right colour for the dupatta, that profiles were being sent for Band Baaja Brides' and pre- wedding trips with in laws were being planned. I got the usual calls from friends and family (his and mine) on how the 'shopping' was going. I had already bought the wedding day saree. My briskness seemed like a crime. But how, where, from where! Saree, no lehenga? Oh! Bong!! and the blouse design?
The period of paranoia was far from over. I would read interview of to be brides, envy my friends who thought this was no age to get married, and had regular bouts of running away. I had to make up shopping lists and create wedding idea folders on my desktop to prove to my colleagues - yes! I am getting married.
I tried 'talking' to my then to be husband. Needless to say he just wouldn't understand the 'problem'. "But don't you love all the attention and shopping discussions?" That would just make matters worse. I feared I was losing my head and had to take constant assurances from him that he still intends to tie the knot with me.
Coupled with the above was the chronic problem of my appearance. The first time I broke my wedding news to one of my friend, she after a while of dilly-dallying asked me when do I start working out. The issue had been nagging me and now it was out in the open. My friend told me stories of how her already scrawny sister had to join a gym, because the camera adds 10kilos to you. My healthy build would mean utter disaster. So, I decided to take the bull by the horns, invested in a 6 months membership in a gym. The first month went smoothly, till the new instructor joined. The short stocky man was an absolute devil. It felt like it was his life's mission to help me on the path to a fitter and leaner figure. I smiled and bore with him as much as my sensibilities allow. One day he made a small effort to be friendly by asking If I am from Calcutta, I nodded and he mentioned how my t-shirt the day before - WHAT I LOVE ABOUT CAL? revealed it all. That did it. I can't explain why but I snapped. Rather my will to go back again did. I could no longer be taking fitness lessons from someone who had to use my t shirt as a conversation starter. Back of my head (a more sensible area of my brain) knew these were mere excuses from going back to the dreaded place called the gymnasium. Another month of guilt pangs and constant jibes from friends, and that chapter was closed. It left me with the learning of how successful opening a fitness center would be - the perfect biz model.
The wedding prep saga continued. I decided one thing within my power is my diet intake (I couldn't be more wrong). The deal with food is you are fine till no special occasion is around the corner. The moment your brain signals your tummy that there is your day is coming soon, you are doomed - donuts will scream out to you for attention, parathas will dance in front of your eyes, rice and rajma will make your day, banana milk shakes will make you drool and beer will be your new best friend.
In such circumstances was the poor me. Fighting yum food was a battle which I was losing swiftly. The days when I gave in (most days) I had sleepless nights with nightmares which constituted of blouse alterations. The most difficult factor to fight off in this dept was my very own mother. She would ladle my plate with food fit for an entire family. She would tell me how she wanted to make up for the time I stayed in hostels but the fact that she would take it in the literal sense, shook me. Did she actually think that I could be fed 7 years worth of home cooked meals? God only knows! My frustration with food reached a point where I desperately wanted to be married off to put an end to this madness.
How I wished I could pour my heart out to someone. Though I had friends and family excited to get a detailed description of my pre marriage jitters. but what surprised me was everyone who was unmarried had their set of jitters already in mind. If I didnt conform to them, then It wasnt correct. Leave correct, nobody is even interested to know what my concerns were. The only people who understood were the already married parties and the already married, i believe are a sadist lot. They would assure you getting married is the way to go and sit back and smirk as they see you walk down the same path, which ultimately leads to dirty nappies, jealous wives, ungrateful kids and Tulsi Virani soaps.
As I walked down a lonely path to the d-day, it was Amitabh Bachhan and Rabindranath Tagore who were playing on my mind. The concoction made out of Ekla cholo re and Muqqadar ka sikandar gave me a lot of peace and strength in my last few days. And why not? why should i not look for solace before I go head on into building a home and setting up base in sasural. Why are all men the supposed victims. Why are all the jokes on how men will be sacrificed on the alter of love and commitment. Ask anyone in this great nation of ours, there is always a 10 men to 1 woman ratio when it comes to the law of flirting. So, technically it is the ladies who are giving up some serious fun and a lot of attention from different quarters.
So post pheras as I sat there looking into the fire, lusting after paneer tikka and blueberry cheescake, it suddenly dawned on me how its the last day of my battle with food, wedding folders and blouse designs. Sensible me knows there are bigger battles to be fought, but I feel elated with the minute ones that I just overcame. With a smug smile and a sharp nod at my friend with the hipster, i feel warmth trickling down inside as my heart lightens up like its my wedding night
No comments:
Post a Comment