So near .....

Picked up the rings .. (but had to lock them away for safekeeping ... waa waa)

Three weeks and counting

So we crossed the 'one month and we'll be married' point ... couldn't work out if the 'one month to go' countdown started from Weds 8th Oct or 4 Saturday's before D day, but both seemed significant anyhow. Today we went to church and heard the first banns being read which was awesome and kind of strange at the same time. 

So now everything is really done, lists and lists written and rewritten and ticked off and everyone organised and sorted and flights booked and invites out and accomodation booked for foreign guests and clothes organised and church booked (that took some doing as they required M15 style security check in form of proof from various sources that I'm REALLY 38 years old and omigod actually unmarried yes spinsterish and withering away on that top shelf with ovaries rapidly dessicating into sultanas I may be BUT NO I AM NOT MARRIED). Finally, it took a letter from a Brit Member of Parliament and a letter from one of

 India's Top 25 Businesswomen (according to Business India Today) to prove to the Cathedral's fogeyish committee that I am free to be married and that after marriage it is unlikely that husband and band of 5 kids will turn up and claim otherwise (an event which actually did recently happen, hence their paranoia). But now, finally, I am set to glide swanlike up that long long aisle .... 

We had fun getting the 500 invites printed at this wonderful little homestyle printers tucked deep into one of Andheri's little communities ... every invite hand printed, this was one place which the digital age hasn't touched. We did end up laser printing the envelopes, but still the desi hand touch defined our invitations. The invites were loudly claimed to be 'awesome' by one and all - a particularly flattering pic of the 2 of us taken at a party last year (and a bit of retouching of lines and freckles Praise the Photoshop) and with a tracing paper cover and the invite inside in silver lettering. Gorgeous. 

Indian Shocker

So I was in the office today when in bounds Ashok, visiting from Delhi. Last time I saw Ashok, he was lamenting his single status and wished he could find a nice girl to marry and settle down with. that was 3 or 4 months ago. He rushed into my office today, huge grin on his face, and thrust  card into my hands. No ordinary card this, but a wedding card - Ashok marries Priya. My face must have showed its confusion, but the Indians in my office nodded wisely. From single to married in a heartbeat .... sometimes I think the whole Indian system of arranged marriages has its benefits. Whilst a million western girls wilt bridget jones like on the shelf, their perky Indian counterparts are advertising for their spouses in the newpaper, interviewing them, and arranging their nuptials if their horoscopes match. 

Buying sarees

Made a trip to Chennai this week, where I shopped til I dropped … for sarees. Tradition has it that the bride to be has to give sarees to various relatives of the groom, plus I wanted to pick up sarees for all the girls coming from the UK to wear at the wedding reception. I had heard that Chennai is India’s silk saree capital with rock bottom prices and huge saree stores everywhere but was total unprepared for the reality – cavernous three and four storey saree shops ringed with sarees stacked floor to ceiling in every imaginable colour, fabric and price range – from the cheap and cheerful 50 rupee number to wedding sarees for 2 lakhs or more. Hundreds of little men in dhotis whisking lengths of gorgeous fabric onto cushioned counters for inspection by hordes of aunties, chaiwallahs roaming around to refresh those parched from the selection process, crowds pushing and jostling to make payment. The entire process was amazing – simply select your saree type (silk, chiffon, georgette, silk mix, etc), your price range, grab the attention of a salesman and try to keep hold f your senses (and your wallet) as saree after saree in all colours of the rainbow are spread before you. I picked up 25 odd sarees in about 45 minutes, not bad going for a gal who can browse for hours. Having picked the colours which I thought would suit everyone in the price ranges as per protocol (most expensive for mother in law, expensive ish for sisters in law, less for the myriad relatives and frankly cheap and cheerful for the UK guests who won’t anyway know the difference) I joined the queues for payment, receipt stamping, delivery and wrapping.
Later in the week I made a trip to Goregaon market, a brilliant indoor market with fabulous Indian clothing shops jostling along narrow walkways. Picked up one saree which I have to wear on the day of returning to the marital home (bought by my future mother in law) and one red and silver number which I’ll wear in the office for diwali. Indian clothes are so fabulous, so bright and ostentatious, makes me laugh when I think back to my drab old English wardrobe full of greys, blacks and browns punctuated with the occasional dark red. I must, simply must, learn to tie a saree.