The North-South Love Saga

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge

Weddings are no small matter! They require significant financial investment, meticulous planning, and countless preparations, yet even the most well-planned events rarely go exactly as expected. As the days leading up to our wedding dwindled to just a week, both Vardaan and I arrived in Hyderabad and went our separate ways. Oh, did I mention? Vardaan was living in the same neighborhood as me. When his family moved out of his father's army quarters, they intentionally chose a residence in my colony.

Vardaan's relatives from Dehradun had arrived and settled in a nearby rented place. Likewise, my house was filled with people from various locations. Ten days before my wedding, I did something quite foolish. Lost in thought, I collided with a car while riding my scooty. I ended up needing a tetanus shot and was left immobile for a week. I limped around, nursing my injury. It felt like a cosmic pre-wedding gift, if you ask me!

During that final week before the wedding, I spent quality time with my family and cousins. Finally, I was able to unwind and enjoy the moment. I had not a care in the world because I was marrying the love of my life! We had intimate mehendi, haldi, and pellikuturu ceremonies. Vardaan was also having these ceremonies at his home. I savored every moment, my heart overflowing with gratitude and love. That night, I slept like a baby, content and at peace.

No wedding is complete without its fair share of drama. Murphy's law was in full effect. The jaimala ceremony was scheduled for 8:00 PM, and it was already 5:00. Yet, we were still at home. My dad and uncle had gone out to attend to some wedding errands, and the bus that was meant to transport us all to the venue had arrived!

In her typical fashion, my mom panicked and began single-handedly carrying heavy sacks of wedding items onto the bus, despite my protests. "Mom, stop! Let the others do it," I pleaded. But she wouldn't listen and, in her haste, stumbled and fell. Immediately, tears welled up in my eyes, and I started crying. Onlookers joined in, exclaiming, "You made the bride cry!" My poor, anxious mother, resembling a worried potato, sat quietly on the bus. I rushed to her side, hugging her tightly, and refused to let go until we reached the venue.

Meanwhile, on Vardaan's side, the wedding band and the ghodi (decorated horse) had yet to arrive. It was already 8:00 PM, and Vardaan's father and others were fuming with anger! Their wrath could have turned the band to ash. Finally, at 8:00 PM, they began their performance.

Our wedding blended North and South Indian traditions, but many of my family members were unfamiliar with the North Indian rituals. Concepts like the ghodi and baraat were foreign to them, and they anxiously awaited the arrival of the groom's side. Confusion filled the air as they wondered why the baraat hadn't arrived yet. Someone even quipped, "Maybe they changed their mind." Everyone fell silent.

Time ticked on, and the guests grew increasingly impatient. Some had already eaten dinner and departed without catching a glimpse of the groom. They had their priorities straight, I must say. Finally, the baraat arrived. Waiting in the bridal suite with my hair and makeup perfectly done, I peeked out the window to catch a glimpse of Vardaan. He looked radiant. My heart danced with joy, and I fell in love with him all over again.

Without delay, I was whisked onto the stage for the jaimala ceremony, and people rushed forward to greet us. It all happened so quickly that I barely have any memory of it. The meet and greet concluded at 11:00 PM, and we immediately had to change and prepare for the North Indian wedding. My mother-in-law and Riya had chosen a breathtaking red lehenga for me, and I felt like a princess in it.

The North Indian wedding proceeded swiftly as well. As the realization sank in that we were finally married, my emotions overwhelmed me. This was the moment I had both dreaded and eagerly anticipated for the past six years. It had become a reality! It felt like a dream, an incredible dream that I never wanted to end. I gazed at Vardaan, gripping his hand tightly. We had finally done it!

There was no time to waste. We had to immediately change into South Indian attire as the auspicious muhurtam approached. My fake hair was falling off, and there was no one available to help me drape my saree, so I had to do it myself. True to the nature of weddings, someone misplaced the keys to the bridal suite, some money went missing, and chaos ensued!

At the venue, there wasn't a soul present aside from our immediate families. Yet, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered in that moment!

Vardaan entered in the traditional Telugu groom attire of a pattu pancha and kanduva. Never had he looked more angelic! The Telugu ceremony also proceeded swiftly. I may have appeared disheveled, but I wished we could redo just the Telugu wedding to capture some cute pictures. Nonetheless, it was over.

Finally, it was time for the vidai, the ceremonial giving away of the bride. My dad stumbled over his words every time he had to repeat, "Please accept my daughter as your own and forgive her for any mistakes she may make." Laughter erupted from all of us. It was time to depart. Usually, tears flow freely during this moment when a daughter leaves her family forever, but not a single soul shed a tear. No one cried, not even a single drop. I pleaded with people, "Please, shed a tear or at least pretend so that I can cry too!" But no, no one cried. I jest, of course. I was now a married woman, Vardaan's wife. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world!

*mehendi, haldi, pellikuturu, jaimala, and vidai are traditional Hindu wedding ceremonies.