As a child, my mother always told the not-so-romantic fairy tale behind her marriage and how she did not have a big lavish wedding because of financial restrains and how she wants to have a huge, fat Punjabi wedding for me. I had heard that story a million times while growing up, but even today, I would give up on anything to hear that tale all over again, to a have a glance of the excitement and enthusiasm with which she tells it, to see the spark that fills her eyes when she dreams about me.
Finally, the day had come. I have been waiting for the day since long. A tide of emotions is within. But the flowers, decoration and caterers will not let me feel any of them completely. The house was decorated like a palace. The front door had these beautiful white lilies and red roses. Lilies were my choice as I knew they were his favourite flowers and roses were my mother’s choice. She said they were dad’s favourite. My dad left us for his heavenly aboard when I was 12. He was my hero. He always took care of all our needs before we even realised them. As a kid, I believed he had some superpower as he just knew what I want before I told him. He took care of everything. I and my mom were totally dependent on him in every aspect. After he left, it was a little difficult to adjust with the fact that now there would be no one to depend upon. Now I am my own dad.
All the chachas, mamas and buas had arrived. Except Billu mama. He is always late at every occasion. But I was hoping that he would make it on time this time. He knew how much this day means to me. HUH! The living room was full of people. Aunties shouting on the top of their voices and calling it singing. Small kids running around, either looking for food or their parents. And the never ending Bitching and QA session.
“How do the groom and the bride know each other anyways?” one old lady, who is my grandma, however distant she may be, enquired suspiciously. “They are schools friends’ ji. They must have been in touch all these years.” Replied another distant relative of mine.
As I overheard them, all that I could picture was two vamps from Ekta Kapoors daily soap, with a really long bindi on the forehead and makeup as horrifying as a Halloween costume, talking. I could sense the suspicion, complaint and all the negative adjectives that I cannot thing of now. I was just sorry for the size of the brain they use to think. Being the big fat Punjabi family that we are, and by fat I mean literally, all this was meant to happen. As much as everything was chaotic and I had so much on my plate to do, seeing a place so colourful, musical and energetic, was a joyous site.
The moment was finally here. He was standing up on the stage, all armed and prepared to face the storm that was to hit his life. I had never seen anyone as prepared as he was for the battle. And walking the aisle was the most beautiful bride I ever saw. As she walked towards her knight to begin the new adventure of life, every moment spent with her just flashed and I couldn’t control all the overwhelming emotions within.
As she approached the stage, he came forward to receive her. And a tear rolled down her eye. No daughter would have ever felt as satisfied watching her mother cry as I did at that particular moment. She wore the same saree as the one she wore when she married my dad. A beautiful red saree with a sparkling white border.
Like all parents, my mother had and has a lot of dreams for me. She always gave me the best of everything. But it took me a while to realize that behind the woman who is always smiling, who is tuff as The Hulk and who was the “Dad” of my life, was alone and vulnerable all these years. And my dream was to give her a companion she needed, a partner she deserved.
Yes, I gave my mother the wedding she always wanted. Ohh sorry, I gave my mother a 2nd marriage, in a way that she always wanted