Bhopal Express (Wedding Marathon)

On special request I’ll translate two instalments of the huge, seemingly unending wedding marathon (taken from my German blog).

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bhopal Express (Wedding Marathon)

Two weddings in the course of 24hrs at two different venues more than 700km apart in India? This may require some prior planning…

We decided to leave on 18th morning and travel from Delhi to Bhopal. By train. We chose the Shatabdi Express, which is known for its excellent cars and excellent speed (up to 150km/h on the Delhi-Bhopal track). This is fast indeed. :yes: This way we were supposed to reach Bhopal in just about 8 hours, where Mr. S was going to make Ms. A into a respectable woman. It’s a so-called „love marriage“ – not at all the thing in India. Even Bollywood couple Ajay Devgan and Kajol sneered at love matches. Except, one would expect, their own. Apparently, they sneer at principles, too. :lalala:

Never mind. We had a wedding to get to.
So we left the house at 5:05am (our all-time punctuality highlight since we were late by a mere five minutes) and looked for a rickshaw. Ten minutes later we had to make do with a bus, the passenger density of which (even at this unearthly hour) would have sent the staff of the German transport corporation into whoops of delight. As soon as we found a rickshaw-wallah who’d stoop as low as to ferry us, we switched vehicles and managed to reach the station at 6am. The train was to start at 6:12am. It was supposed to be a sparkling new train, but we had not considered that the Delhi-Bhopal sector is not meant for premium treatment. Consequently, we had to make do with slightly elder cars.

Eight hours in a semi-somnolent state. It was darn cold. So cold, in fact, that the Bentley and I were fighting about my dupatta, until the Bentley decided he’d much rather fight with one of the train boys to induce some climate change. 😉 The situation either improved thereon or we simply did not notice since we were off in a doze again and woke up only for meals. Oh, and once in Jhansi where I saw a tourist bustle across the platform, puffing a cigarette, which, my dear, is very verry strictly prohibited. :yes: Jhansi seemed to be rather popular with the tireless traveller since we saw hordes of them board and de-board the train at that station. B)

2:45pm in Bhopal. 42°C. A sun stroke is imminent. Having spent eight hours in arctic conditions, I notice how my skin begins to prickle while we crawl through Bhopal in an open car for about an hour while enjoying the driver’s rendition of Beethoven’s 9th on the horn. When we finally reached our destination, it was to find the entire bridegrooms family in the house. Upstairs. Downstairs. Inside. Outside. Having lunch. Preparing for the wedding. Braving the heat rolled up in some corner, sleeping.
We crept into S’s room and barely managed to reach the bed, where we collapsed in a heat-induced coma.

5pm and time to doll ourselves up. Fifty relatives turned the house into a gigantic locker-room experience while getting dressed. We flocked together in small groups, barricaded ourselves in different rooms and let loose the petticoats, the hair pins, the lipsticks and brushes. To quote a neat movie-line: Sausages and women. You don’t want to watch the preparation process of either. Which is all the better. I sneaked into the bathroom where someone had just taken a shower and tried to get dressed until that wicked sari blouse fell down, soaked up some good frothy shower water and sent me off in a mood of slight displeasure. |-| Breaaath. Unlock the door. Run upstairs. Stand in line for ironing. Run downstairs. Getting dressed again. Mission: Completed successfully.

It was all a very colourful chaos with people peeping around from behind curtains. Men and women in various states of dress and undress scrambling up and down the stairs. The smell of deo. Ghee (clarified butter). And expectation. Everyone doled out neat compliments. And so on. And so on. Until I found myself standing in the foyer, somewhat lost, committing a cardinal sin: I forgot my own Rule 1, looked across to the living room and brushed everyone with a smile. After a week of meet-and-greet in Delhi I was way past remembering who I have met, and since I did not want to cut anyone I just gave them all a big, non-committing, yellow-yellow-dirrrty-fellow grin. There you go. Some bloke had an odd Kylie-Minogue-moment. You know, when she sparkles into the camera and sings „Especially for you…“. So he jumped up from his seat, pulled two kids along and introduced himself, standing altogether too close to me. |-|
I, on the other hand, had a forbidding What-have-I-done-moment 🙄 and swiftly removed myself to one of the rooms reserved for the fairer, much better behaved sex.

Later. Much. Much later we were finally done. Done and ready. It was time to formally send off the bridegroom who was trying very hard not to look nervous. Time for some poojas. Since I did not harass anyone for explanations, there is not much to tell at this point other than: Some more pooja outside. Some colourful rice. Some tears. And off we were. We hopped onto the bus that was hired for this occasion and drove off – not into the sunset which was long, long time ago and we were ever so slightly late – but into we-knew-not-where since nobody had actually managed to find out the way. You may all guess what happened next. :wave:

Part II „Where is my wedding?“ …. coming up next.