I don't know when weddings became fun. Certainly, as a child, I never enjoyed them much. I was always dressed in hot silks, told no, I could not take a book, and since I was never one of those children who ran around screaming, I usually just sat, dangling my feet off a chair going, "Can we go now?" More boring than that was the shopping for the wedding, endless salwar kameez shops, where the saleslady looked at me like I had a tropical disease and my mother and my aunts debated on which identical looking sari would be best suited for which function. Bor-ing.
Now that I'm all grown up, I LOVE weddings. (Though remembering the torture I went through as a child, I'm never going to force my kid to go to one) And since my oldest and dearest friend is getting married this week, I've thrown myself into the celebrations with gusto. Leela and I, you might recall, if you've been reading this blog for long enough, knew each other when we were two and a half, and then ten years later when we were 12, we met again, perhaps the snottiest pre-teens in the entire world. But when a friendship is meant to be, like ours obviously is, a little snottiness doesn't get in the way of fate. Our mothers recognised us and were very excited, we sort of shrugged, since we were neighbours and all, and then proceeded to fall madly in love. In fact, she should just be marrying me. But, since she won't, I guess Ishan is a good second choice. I don't know him as well as I've known Leela's other boyfriends (since I was mostly single during my teen years, I practically dated the guys she dated as well) but I do like him. Last night, at the non-bachelorette party (non, because there were BOYS and no strippers) I plied him with much alcohol and we have many photographs of the top halves of our faces.
I'm in Delhi, by the way, for the next ten days, well, till next Monday, doing wedding-y things. Tomorrow there is a brunch type thing after which apparently we (the young girls on the bride's side) are supposed to converge at someone's house and practice dancing. This, I am going to avoid. Instead, I will whisk Leela away and we'll go shop or something.
Is it just me or is it odd for everyone when their first friend gets married? Suddenly, our lives together seem to stretch so very far away, being twelve and in the same government colony, in the summer, smelling the wet khus of the coolers and lying on our stomachs chatting, did those things really happen to us? The eM and the Leela who were fourteen, fifteen , sixteen, hang around ghost-like now, their arms around each other, giggling and saying, "What happened to you guys? When did you get soooooooo... adult?" Even her little sisters, the closest thing I have to little sisters, Bani (formerly known as Dearmost) and Maya, have jobs now, with free spoons. (Don't ask, this is apparently the high point of Maya's career) and last night they both looked so, well, sexy and grown up, I wanted to cry. But then, I wanted to cry at many points. I'm emotional like that. We all looked glorious last night, I must say, even though I was in my self designated party Nazi role. Basically this meant that I made everyone who came in drink this shot made of vodka, guava juice and tobasco (No, no, it was an EXCELLENT shot, it set fire to your throat and then all the way down your body, leaving these tendrils of warmth in your veins. Mmmmm.) and then I made them say three things about themselves. People got quite into it too. And then, at one point, when conversation was flagging, I introduced drinking games (people who know me are at this point rolling their eyes so hard they can see the back of their brains, but fuck off, everyone had fun) which were very successful. Neeti, whose house it was, another friend of Leela's, had gone all out for this party, so there were these round tables with candles on them on her enormous balcony, a guy rotating kebabs, a hookah and an improvised pole, which by the end of it, the boys took over and swung themselves around it very happily. I tried, but it made my palms hurt, which is when I called Volt drunkenly and murmured suggestive things to him, but I think I woke him up. (And, as I wrote that, he called. Like, totally, ESPN.)
Up next is the wedding weekend, next week, the mehendi, the sangeet and the actual wedding, where everyone will bawl like babies, and dance a lot and eat good food and why did I not like this as a child? Weddings rock!