Wows and woes of winter weddings
Spring is in the air but who doesn’t love a winter wedding! A nip in the air, the mystical halo of fog, shimmering fire pits and twinkling fairy lights, all impart a mystical and romantic feel to winter festivities. There is something surreal about the dazzlingly lit up wedding venue with glimmer of light piercing through the shroud of mist, emulating a constellation of stars playing peek-a-boo with clouds.
Irrespective of the season, Punjabi weddings are essentially food expos with some extracurricular activities on the sidelines, like serving as venue for the coy bride and groom to exchange marital vows.
But a dip in mercury further entitles all foodies to embark on a guilt free trip and indulge in sinful pleasures of the palate with a vengeance. And there’s no place more befitting for this calorific rendezvous than the scrumptious ambience of a winter wedding fiesta.
The cold weather also gives a perfect excuse to get high on dance and drinks though, not in that order, particularly.
Winter weddings entice people for various reasons but I have always been in awe of a valiant tribe, whose members literally throw caution to the (icy) wind.
These daredevils mock the vanity of winter might and dare its frosty warriors to unleash their freeze attack. And they do it in some style! You must have guessed it by now that, I am singing paeans to the gusty and uber chic female guests who grace the winter wedding carnival.
It’s the presence of this Brave Brigade in their splendid finery which lends the occasion its ‘wow’ factor.
So far, I had been a committed member of this clan, strictly abiding by its ‘no woollies’ dictum, gleefully revelling in every dressing up opportunity, come hail or storm. But I must confess that, the thought of ditching my woolly friends to attend a recent family wedding, sent shivers down my spine. Probably being on the wrong side of 40 had fuelled this anxiety, fanned by the fear of getting bitten by the cold bug.
Even browsing through the ‘sizzling seventy’ take on ravishing Hema Malini and Shobaa De in my favourite weekly magazine failed to warm up my ‘freezing forty’ spirit. The wow now seemed to be a whopping woe.
One may question, what’s the compulsion of toeing the line of wedding fashionistas unless, of course, the invite mandates so? I agree there isn’t any.
It’s more about an innate feminine desire to put ones best foot/face/dress forward especially when the occasion calls for it. Still, there’s no denying the pressure of dressing up for an ostentatious North Indian wedding.
How I envy male guests strutting around in their snug blazers and suits, oblivious to the shivering souls draped in satins and silks.
‘Shivering’ herein may be considered a metaphor only because the moment celebratory euphoria sets in even the coolest of weather breaks into a sweat.
And that’s exactly what saw me through the wedding of my beloved niece on a chilly January night.
However, being bedridden for almost a fortnight with a bad bout of cold, post the joyous occasion, had me reconsider the wows and woes of a winter wedding. Or is it about time to bid adieu to the Brave Brigade and say hello to the Comfy Clan?