Handling a wedding is a gargantuan task, especially if you
are parents of a bride from the south of India.
The invites, hall booking and decoration, catering, priests,
appeasement of some sulking Solomons and
keeping the huge gathering in good cheer
calls for the expertise of a ring master at a circus surrounded by lions.
The host hardly gets time to chat with the special guests
who arrive from far and wide.
At the recent wedding of my daughter in Chennai, some wonderful
friends and relatives sprang pleasant surprises by dropping in. Their presence
made the occasion grand. However, there was hardly a minute to interact. We met
years later and yet parted in minutes without as much of a little update.
The grumblers do complete the show. “The tap is not
working,” “The cleaners are lazy,” “One tubelight is flickering.”
One rushed to me when I was in a deep conversation with a close
friend to say, “The toilets are stinking.”
I suppressed my anger and used humour: “Do not worry. I have ordered special
perfumes from America.”
Thankfully, the guest thought I was serious and disappeared
in the crowd.
Read a joke about husbands:
Husband is a man who lost his liberty in the pursuit of
happiness.
