To W(B)ed a Bong

The Bedding Diaries of a clueless, soon-to-be Bride

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Can I please have my home back?

My home is fast becoming a war zone.

My extended family thinks I am weird. But the good thing is that they have gotten used to my weirdness. So they might not understand my "unnatural" need for privacy inside my home but they dare not come into my room when I am around. But this morning, I woke up to find one of my aunts from the village peacefully sitting on the armchair waiting for me to wake up. When she saw that I was awake, she started shouting at me for not growing my hair. I ignored her completely and went downstairs to find my mom so that I could shout at her. I couldn't find either of my parents and it looked as if my relatives from all over the country have taken over my house. Most of them, when they saw me, started shouting at me. How dare you look like that? Why aren't you wearing anything on your neck? And why do you look so plain? What about your hair? How are you going to look like a bride with such short hair? And why are you wearing your pajamas? Go shower and come back and wear a saree now. What will people think?

We need a phone attendant to answer all the calls. The phones ring incessantly and no one knows anymore who is calling and who is answering. Like this morning when the priest called and my uncle for some reason assumed it was the caterer. They both were talking about lists for the wedding and my uncle started talking about lentils and masaala podis. The priest couldn't figure out why you need chilli powder for the wedding ceremony and he started shouting.

In the middle of all this chaos, Uma di points me to a 180-day guide for brides which I am supposed to read before the bedding. Please, can someone condense it into an one pager and send it to me? Otherwise I will be so lost at piya ke ghar!

1 Comments:

Blogger Falstaff said...

You realise that priest is going to spit in the fire now, don't you?

Look at the bright side - imagine if it had been the caterer calling and your uncle had thought he was the priest. You would have had to circle the damn buffet seven times before you were allowed to eat a bite.

4:53 AM  

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