End Start of an Era

It was long. It was loud. It was tiring.

We loved it.

And y'all who made it special, we love you more!

A Magical World

One more day. To start the rest of our lives.

Prayers. Blessings. Your presence. We need 'em all. :)

Sealing the Deal (Part 1)

Back here at home we say "I do" at least twice. Or thrice if you've proposed before that. Tomorrow is the first of those days.

It's been a long five weeks since we last met. Not entirely smooth sailing considering work has eaten up most of our time. But that's all forgotten now.

For me, it took over 50 hours to get home, and quite a bit of sleep to get over it. For N, what seemed like a zillion days of shopping which finally ended this week. (Oh wait, I still think there's that one thing to get. And that other one. And this one we missed few weeks ago. But well, almost done.) But on the good side, she's had her first share of the Wedding Photography Blues. (Yes, a phenomenon in Indian weddings where you need to learn at least 143 different poses to make the collection complete.) I get my first share of that tomorrow.

But BIG PICTURE, people! It's time to get officially engaged!

An Analysis of the Female Psyche

26th March 2008. Google Talk.

Priya: Oi.
Me: Hi there!
Priya: Ahem ahem.
Me: What happened?
Priya: What is today?
Me: (bulb flases in head) Don't tell me it's your birthday!
Priya: Well, it is. Now wish me.
Me: Happy birthday sis! I forgot. :(
Priya: I want you to write down birthdays of all people who are important to you. So that you won't forget again. People like it when you remember, you know. Specially girls.
Me: But I was hoping Orkut...
Priya: NO, you cannot hope.
Me: Ey, but not all girls think...
Priya: Everyone does.

Sometime in 2009. Phone call.

Priya: So, what do you think of the pic?
Me: It's NICE! One of your best.
Priya: You will tell only if I ask kya?
Me: Appidi illa sis...
Priya: Girls like compliments bro. You don't know?
Me: Oh, but...
Priya: Ey, shut up.

6th March 2011. Friends' wedding.

Priya: You're looking nice, bro!
Me: Hey, thanks!
(3 seconds later)
Priya: So?
Me: Sooo...
Priya: How do I look?
Me: Ohh! Very pretty... I like!
Priya: Abba, you will never learn! Sit down.
(I sit down rather uncomfortably)
Priya: Listen bro, you see a girl dressed up, you tell her she looks nice. If you see her at a wedding, you appreciate what she wears. Girls always like to hear that. God, I'm already sorry for your wife!
Me: But...
Priya: No no no. No no no. Enough buts. You listen to me now.

                                                                    ***

I brought this up with N in one of our conversations. She was probably a little too nice to say it was true, but in the end the both of us were probably thinking the same thing.

Your advice, sis, has been greatly appreciated. ;)

Gold is Love

Sometimes when I think N is not worrying enough about the wedding, I like to mess around with her a little bit.

"So for the reception on 12th, I'm thinking not too much jewellery right?" she asked one evening. Once I get the urge it doesn't go away. "Umm, yea, I guess. But it's in our village right? People there like to see gold, you know? Like, really SEE it. You probably need only about 30 or 35 sovereigns." (1 sovereign of gold is 8 grams and is the most popular measure of gold in Kerala). I keep a straight face.

"Whaaat! Isn't that too much? Someone's got to have a way of knowing how much is too much!" There's a slight whine in her voice.

"Oh, but they have a way of doing that. You don't know?"

She looks at me expectantly.

"You go into 'fat food' mode for two weeks. Milk, butter and ghee so that your muscles become strong and able to sustain loads. Then we make a trip to Josco Jewellers, and they ask you to keep your arms and neck as straight as possible. They start putting on the jewellery you need, piece by piece. Your weight multiplied by 4.5 is the amount of gold in grams you can reasonably have on your body, before your neck and arm muscles find it overbearing. Once your neck tilts 30 degrees from its initial position, that's when you can stop."

OK, she didn't buy it. But on the plus side, I think I had her going till the 30 degrees part. And well, I didn't get slapped.

P.S.: The story was borrowed and liberally spiced up from my dear friend A's true life experience.

Marine Drive Talkies

This trip home was a little hectic. Well OK, WAY too hectic. Wedding shopping is no child's' play. And so for three weeks, most afternoons and evenings were caught up in deciding the right Manthrakodi (wedding sari), getting the right wedding ring, looking for that perfectly sized minnu (thali), browsing through Veepee's 112 bridal gown patterns, and wondering whether my white shirt needed white buttons or black. It was all fun, though. But that gave N & I little time to meet. So we decide the best time to meet is in the morning, before she has to head off to work. And which better place in Kochi to sit and do nothing, than Marine Drive? That's the spot, we agree.

So on quite a few mornings, I find myself waking up at 5 AM to make it in time for this appointment. Early morning and I don't exactly see eye to eye. Oh, the things you do for love.

But Marine Drive, Kochi on the morning is home to some of the most entertaining sights and conversations you will see (or hear). Some fun and some err.. not so fun.

1. There's a power mom jogging at a brisk pace in track pants and t-shirt. 30-something. Now, that's not so unusual, is it? Oh, but how do we know she's a mom? She's pushing her (probably year-old) baby in a perambulator in front of her! Yep, all the way while she's jogging. Four rounds up and down, she's tired, she's panting, but still jogs with the baby in front of her. So, you're a mom and there's no time to exercise, you said?
2. An old man walks up to us, hands folded and looking really tired. "Vishakkunnu, mone (Son, I'm hungry)" he says. I believe him. My wallet's not with me, though. I tell him that, with a slightly concerned look on my face. "Purse illello Appacha." He does this transformation that would put Mohanlal to shame. His hands go to his hips and he stands there staring at us, for 30 seconds. I mean, really staring. It starts to get creepy. I shake my head at him and he chooses to give me his two cents of wisdom. "Onnum melilottu kondupokathilla ketto? (You can't take anything when you die, you know?)". He walks away with his hands still on his hips. Ah, my parish priest should get this dude to give us our Sunday sermon.
3. Macho uncle power walking with four of his buddies: "So you heard? Swetha Menon is coming with her baby on the next season of Veruthe Alla Bharya." (Some super popular mallu reality show, I hear). "Ohhh, really?" the rest of them say together. And then they go into some in-depth analysis of why she should and should not bring her kid on the show. How it may scar her for life, scar her kid for life, scar the viewers for life. OK, so uncle not so macho, I guess.

Oh, the things you go through for love.

Onion Pink

Three days of intensive shopping later, the lady was back from Chennai.

"So, how'd it go? Got the stuff you need?" I asked on one of our evening calls.

"Aan, we got most of the saris we needed. I got the sari for the engagement too."

"Ohh nice! What colour?"

"It's onion pink."

"It's what?"

"Onion pink, you know. Like deep pink."

"So it's deep pink, then?"

"Erm, not exactly. It's onion pink."

"OK, like the skin of an onion or the inside of an onion?"

"No, a little darker than the inside."

"Oh, so it's dark pink."

"No, it's onion pink."

Of course, I should have known better. Now, three weeks of wedding shopping later, I'm a different man (err, maybe more woman). Bottle green. Cornflower blue. Wine red. Sunglow yellow. Vanilla white. I know 'em all.

And No, if you think the adjective before the colour says it all, you could not be more wrong. Didn't you read the part about the Onion Pink?