Celebrity weddings to comedy of errors
Celebrity weddings are occasions to go gung-ho in our star-struck country. The huge fan following of actors and extensive media coverage of wedding ceremonies places the soon-to-be married couple on an exalted pedestal.
Dream destinations of celebrity weddings are a matter of hot discussion for weeks together.
Makeup artistes of repute are hired to enhance the beauty of petite brides. Expert hairstylists take on the responsibility to style the braids of the bride that may become a trendsetter in times to come.
Fashion designers of repute are deputed to design exquisite costumes and accessories for the star couple. Photographers specialising in filming celebrity weddings are assigned the job of doing the photo shoot and recordings. Event organisers are given a free hand to leave no stone unturned to make the occasion memorable for the couple and the guests.
Reading juicy details of celebrations in the print media day in and day out made me nostalgic and my mind travelled back to 1994, the year I got married. My wedding was a mix of mismanagement, goof-ups and a comedy of errors.
My father, a government employee, was a man of meagre means. As the wedding was in February, he advised me to wait for the winter sale to buy the quintessential woollen suit to be worn by the groom. Brought up in a family where wearing khakis and browns was a norm because they don’t gather grime and dust, I could lay my hands only on the camel shade by default.
Coming to shoes, according to my father, spending more than ₹ 200 on shoes was a sheer waste. “You need not spend so much on shoes because you have to wear them on your feet not on the head,” he said. Somehow, I didn’t buy his point of view and decided to borrow a cherry-coloured trendy pair from a well-off friend with the promise to return the valuable item soon after the ceremony.
Regarding the photographer, the less said the better. We hired a small-time photographer to cut costs. He was a chain smoker who didn’t forget to light one cigarette after the other but somehow forgot to switch on the video-recording on the camera to capture the all-important jaimala ceremony.
My elder brother had booked a bedecked mare with the wedding band much in advance for the 8pm to 9pm time slot, again to cut down on expenses. During the peak wedding season, this is the most economical option as compared to the prime slot of 9pm onwards.
We reached the venue at breakneck speed because the mare and the band had to attend another function post 9pm. We were welcomed by an almost empty wedding palace and few waiters giving finishing touches to the arrangements. I had to alight from the party animal to be left stranded and embarrassed by the roadside, waiting for my parents-inlaw, and of course the bride, to reach the spot and initiate further proceedings.
It is customary to visit the in-laws’ house for a ceremonial dinner a few days after the wedding. My wife asked me to put on the same cherry-coloured shoes that I had worn on the wedding day. All I could do was to look the other way and smile.
I HAD TO ALIGHT FROM THE PARTY ANIMAL TO BE LEFT STRANDED AND EMBARRASSED BY THE ROADSIDE