Shut up amid the cackle.

I can say I went the whole 9 yards now. Proudly at that. Maybe a tad condescendingly at other unenlightened souls....For those who came in late, I am discussing my big fat Indian wedding. Forgive the cliches, but describing an Indian wedding is an essential exercise in reminiscing all possible cliches.....
About 20 days before the D-Day, my cell phone rang in the middle of an office meeting. Secretly relieved at the chance to step out of the stifling conference room (in the middle of one of those oh-im-so-great speeches by Boss dearest), my relief turned to dread when I saw it was Mom. In a voice which predicted doom, she asked me to get my posterior home before 15 days of the wedding. I almost yelled, but checked myself in time. In a hissed whisper instead, I asked, " A whole goddamn fifteen days???? FIFTEEN DAYS???? Ma it is corporate sacrilege you are asking me for!!!!!!" Eventually, mother power won.....and I walked back renewed with maternal love to ask my dear boss for leave. Boss turned various shades of red, orange, yellow, green and a royal purple. His jugular was about to burst, and in better interest of his health, he decided to grant me the leave.

I left for home as decided (by my mother). The moment I reached home, I was beseiged by lists. Lists of all kind. Clothes, Make up, Beauty parlour activities, shoes, guests, arrival dates and some more. (I vaguely remember a list of undergarments to be bought too). Pleading "train"-lag, I sauntered off in the general direction of my room. Lo and behold! My room had been transformed into some sort of a dormitory with mattresses everywhere. I stormed out, and in a fit of anger, asked my father what was happening. My mother looked up from her half moon spectacles and benignly answered, "That is for the purpose of guests." I sputtered a few words which sounded like "What about my place" but most of it was unintelligible grunts. The next few days passed in a haze. Everyone around me had, in the time that I had been away, acquired some kind of psychotic mania for shopping. According to me, a psychiatrist was needed for the entire family, extended cousins and uncles-aunts included. I was drowning in silk, jewellery, and least pleasurably, in make up. Before the D-Day, a beautician walked inside home with a whole bag of instruments (I came to know later those were manicure and pedicure accessories). I was subjected to incomparable torture for the next four or five hours, while one assistant yanked and pulled at my hands, another exercised her technical know-how on my feet and the main beautician, took care of what was presumably the most important of all, my face. I never knew so many beauty procedures existed on this planet....at the end of it all, the beautician walked out with the air of a Turkish conqueror who had succeeded in executing infidels, and announced that she would be reaching at 5 a.m. on the day of the wedding procedures for my "beautiful wedding dressing" activities. I shuddered in anticipation.