Day Eight – the Big Day

I managed to sleep, somehow. Not the longest or most restful of nights sleep but not bad given that I’d thought I would hardly sleep a wink. Prised one and then the other eye open and was surprised that the world looked … cloudy. I blinked hard …. Still cloudy. Murky even. I could hardly see the door from the bed. Couldn’t work out why I should have been afflicted by a sudden half blindness on such an important day and then a corresponding pain in my eyeballs helped me quickly to the dreadful realization that I had, for the first time in YEARS, gone to sleep with my contact lenses in. On the night that I am stone cold sober, focused and charged about my big day... I go and forget to pull out those wicked little discs which normally enable 20/20 vision but which on this occasion were glued to my eyeballs rendering me half blind and with huge puffy bags below each eye thanks to the overnight oxygen deprivation to the eye. Fabulous. I managed to prise the lenses out of my eyes (with a disconcerting sucky sound), hoped I hadn’t removed too much of my corneas, and looked at myself in the mirror. The horror! Two slits peeking out of two bright pink golf balls. Black bags under the golf balls in which I could have carried my entire wedding trousseau. Thank goodness Jo works for an airline as I ran to the fridge for ice and found some iced cold towels which I immediately pressed to my poor eyes. Slowly, finally the freak show started to subside and I saw my face returning to normal. I had that whole “bridegroom bolts at altar” thing going on for a while and it wasn’t pleasant.
With face more or less returned to normal Julie and I headed over to the posh parlour where we were due the full bridal/bridesmaid treatment (fancy hair and makeup), picking up Sarah and Justine on the way. They were both tense and tempers were overall a bit frayed. But after settling into our bridal suite and starting to get pampered, the tension visibly dissipated, until I pulled out my dress and found it to be creased. Actually the creases were fairly minimal and I should have hung the damn thing up earlier in the week (I had asked the salon to bring an iron but they had assumed I could send the dress out to the dhobi wallah … yeah right .. visions of little man scrubbing away at my satin and antique lace bridal gown …). But as the girls pointed out the reases were only really visible to my over-exacting eye. We also had to send someone to the bank for a last dash for cash to pay for the booze in the evening which was a bit of a saga but worked out in the end.
Finally we emerged, looking nothing short of fabulous. I had my hair pinned up in a gorgeous and complicated bun arrangement with curls and swirls and twirly bits hanging down. Another slight panic when we discovered that the beautiful tiara which had been painstakingly attached to the veil did not detach and could not fit over said tresses, but it looked ok perched on the top of my head instead. The girls all looked great with their hair washed and blow dried and flowing. I discovered that the itty bitty diamante stones covering my blingy shoes kept catching on the net inside the ‘hoop’ (cancan) which went under the dress. Try as I might I couldn’t help my feet getting stuck to the inside of the skirt, and it felt like another disaster in the making. Kick out, kick out was the helpful advice from the girls and on practicing this deft move my shoes behaved themselves. Dad had arrived very early at the parlour and was nervously sipping coffee, and fretting about getting me down the aisle. He was panicking about a coughing fit, falling, or generally getting over emotional. That made two of us. The car arrived (merc) and we headed for the church. Realising the futility of trying to stuff two bridesmaids, a maid of honour, a small child, the father of the bride and the bride in a full skirted dress into one car, Justine Donald and Sarah hopped into a cab.
We arrived at the church half an hour early (hoorah) and slipped into the back. Somehow the agonizing wait came to an end and it was 2pm, time to start. I was so excited and happy, and so emotional that I knew I’d start to blub if I even caught the eye of a single friend in the pews. The bridal party set off – tiny kids in the front, girls looking adorable in little handmade purple dresses and boys handsome and regal in tiny purple bow ties and black suits. Julie, Sarah and Justine followed, poor Julie walking solo and the others arm in arm with handsome (last minute) groomsmen. And then Dad and I started our slow walk, after a short pause to create maximum “entrance effect”. We reached the front, me without catching the eye of anyone, and I could sense my husband to be’s eyes boring into me and willing me to look at him., Hardly surprising really given this was the biggest moment in our lives to date but I just needed to compose myself and control my emotions, so I stared resolutely ahead and then leaned forward to catch his eye. He was looking so handsome, the suit which he’d had made looked absolutely fantastic, the cream silk cravat and waistcoat looked gorgeous especially against his dark skin, and he had his hair pulled back and a huge smile on his face. From the moment I caught his eye (and I know it sounds cheesy) everything was just fine. I visibly relaxed, and loved the entire ceremony which somehow seemed so much less complicated than during the rehearsal. The vows and the exchange of the rings part was simply amazing, and I will never forget those powerful words. We had considered writing our own vows but eventually stuck with the traditional version and I’m glad we did. The exchanging of the rings was amazing, though VIvek initially reached for his ring to place on my finger bless him so excited to get his hands finally on his ring. Then a couple of hymns, the lighting of the candle, a quick communion for the bride and groom only, and we were done. I am so happy that we eventually married in the cathedral, what a beautiful place. Simply stunning. I have to say that I had never ever pictured myself walking down a traditional churchy aisle in a white dress with a veil but that’s exactly what happened. And it felt fantastic.
So, we were married. Amazing. Big burst of pride in my heart and hanging onto my new husband for dear life through all the endless photos.
Then we all ran off to transform for part 2. Julie and I ran back to the parlour and cracked open the bottle of sula which had been intended for the morning but I couldn’t handle the thought of drinking that early. Hair washed clean of hairspray and backcomb, blow dried into swingy curls, new makeup applied (more Indian bridal less English virginal) and time to pull on the lehenga. One gorgeously shimmery number, bedecked from top to bottom with hand sewn sequins and stones, heavy as hell but a perfect fit. Husband called twice as I was squeezing into the thing – turns out we were late and he and his entire family were waiting on the street, him in horse driven carriage, with full band ready and waiting, and only the bride missing. Damn! Rushed out of there faster than you can say “don’t forget to pin the dupatta” and of course, forgot to pin the dupatta. Result, heavy scarf which slipped down over one eye all night, but apparently no-one noticed.
I felt like an Indian princess next to my Indian prince. I have to say, we both looked utterly fabulous, as did all the guys and gals from the UK in their sherwanis and sarees. We all looked like something out of a movie set. The actual reception part was a little dull as we had to stand on the stage and greet everyone individually but it was fine as we were doing it together and it was nice to meet everyone. We also managed to make speeches and have a toast, and I made an impromptu speech. My dad had been terribly nervous about speaking but in the end he did a fantastic job though I think I was more nervous than him as I knew how much it meant to him. So the evening passed in a blur of feeling princessy, greeting hundreds of wellwishers and receiving gifts, quaffing the odd glass of wine and finally collapsing at a table to sample some of the food. There were a couple of minor disasters – it seems the wedding organizer had forgotten about the need to provide toilet facilities so guests had to use the revoltingly unhygienic bathrooms in the main house, and the promised aircon didn’t work so no-one went inside to hear the FANTASTIC band and so we never got to dance. But that aside, we had a brilliant night and a fabulous end to a truly magical day which I will remember for the rest of my life.