Weekend of absolute debauchery

and S's wedding.

No doubt.

I mean, I slapped the backside of my head for having thought that it might be anything but. After all, S’s wedding was sure to be a fete worth remembering. With her extended fam down from the land of bad teeth and copious amounts of tea – it was surely a time to remember.

Brief synopsis for memory’s sake.

Friday:

Time up: 5:00 am (remind me never to have a MORNING wedding – S got 2 hours of sleep the night before – no matter though, the girl pulled through and turned into a smashing butterfly)

Sari: 6 yards of iridescent lavendar – wrapped with enough pins to hold my kanjivaram fort together – complete with R’s lavendar set (minus the headpiece) and gold sandals (a winners find from Thursday night - $22 taxes included).

Makeup – minimal (as in vaseline and eyeliner)

R’s outfit: sheathed in a shimmering luxurious blue, complete with all things that make R the perfect tamil chica – she looked gorgeous – no surprise there. Gorgeous people tend to do that effortlessly.

Time at S’s: 7:00 am – we were two extra bodies in a sea of thousands (ok, slight exaggeration – it was more like a sea of hundreds)

Crystal Fountains – absolutely breathtaking. I believe that R used the terms “posh” and “lavish” to describe it all. I agreed fully.

Dressing Room: S looked gorgeous. Orange and cream and yards and yards of nervous energy wrapped her securely. She was blinging like it was nobody’s business. I think Maharani’s couldn’t have competed with her that day. Her foot thumping a consistent beat of anxiety, ms. S spent her last moments as a veritable Miss worrying about all the nitty gritty deets. We got some candid shots of her in the dressing room – absolutely priceless.

Wedding: We (R, A & myself) walked out with her and the cackling crowd of multicoloured aunties to Mangalyam (R’s absolute all time favorite Alaipayuthe track – I guess S likes it too) and i was swept away by salt water spreading willfully from my eyes, down my cheeks and into the crevices of every feature. I stopped. Wished I could’ve dropped. But instead just ran out before I turned into a blithering mess. Apparently the girls felt the same way. I would’ve scoffed if anyone had told me that I was going to be all emotional at S’s wedding – scoffed. Smirked even. Probably would’ve accompanied that with a rip roaring laugh. But no such luck – I cried. Balled. Absolutely broke down. Magic looked so manly at the mandapam. Donned in his super-filmi suit complete with the groom’s head-dress, the tangy little cherry dropped on top of this sundae of delight as I realized – OMG, everything’s changing.

EVERYTHING.

S (might as well be one of our own) – married. I doubt this will change anything but the moment that miruthangam music kicked in and Magic fumbled with the thaali – it happened. Life paused and changed courses. A new route was formed. Her last moment as Ms. C were sent packing with the jingle jangle of traditional matrimonial music. And then it was over. Mr & Mrs. Y. phew.

Joy was punctuated by relief.
Pure and simple.
I stole away with the ruckus causing Brits to smoke a much-deserved fag.
A couple toozes later, R walked out to join me.

Dad had given him the “news”. M either stepped it up or stepped out.
Scary how group thinks work in familial situations.
Seeing S (one he considers like his own) get hitched got him thinking about the fate of his own.
I love him to death. And that’s punctuated with trepidation and anxiety.

The rest of Friday was nice and balmy.
The weather cooperated. The universe acquiesced. And the training wheels were back on, for different reasons.

Friday Night:

Besharam

Shamelessly I coerced Rsquared to join the chica’s & C at Fly nightclub for our monthly flirtation with racial homogeny and sexual diversity. Good times were had by all except Rsquared. They were fascinated by the ridiculously pretty men gyrating on other insanely goodlooking XY’s. Unfortunately all the alcohol laced drinks at the bar couldn’t stop them from feeling claustrophobic and borderline suicidal. Hence, the good times with the chica’s was cut short as we headed out to Markham station. After some much needed grub, we rolled into our beds at 4am. Absolutely spent.
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Saturday:

RIBFEST

Ribfest with the fam. Pigs. Cars. Vendors. Cheapie – everything. What more could a pack of browntings need for a hot and muggy Saturday afternoon? Not much I tell you. I walked away with a silver ring accented by a smidgen of blue topaz ($5), a white tunic ($6) and some smoked chicken wings in my belly. R & Dad indulged their cheap-shades fetish by investing in more. M (being the reasonable one he is) told me to start saving up for one of the cars on exhibition. And Mom, she strolled, ate, got incredibly hot and asked to leave the scene pretty soon. Without R (in England) things were different. We didn’t even touch an entire rack of ribs – we missed her and her tiny rib loving teeth.

S & Magic’s Reception:

Outfit: Highlighter blue with silver accessories and gold sandals (yup, my $20 blingers)
R was adorned in orange and green with flat-iron straight hair and little touches of rani-royalty. Gorgeous. M wore a pretty shirt to match his date, R, with his black suit.

The couple: Magic looked like big daddy pimp with his ivory suit. All he needed was a cane and a fedora to complete the look. He was glowing – in joy I think. Although he kept blabbering about “final sales” and “no refunds” – I assumed it was the bliss of being groomy that led to those verbal scatterings. S wore pink and green. Absolutely breath-taking. Everything from her hair to her shoes were perfect. So much worry for something that looked effortless and perfect.

The night: I was caught in a delirium of drinks, smokes, accents and bald headed men. My man was busy escorting my fantabulous sister for the night (totally understandable) and that was a-okay with me. They are so cute together. And apart. R’s R joined us later in the night and I had the pleasure of dating my man again. After some speeches, some eats and some serious dancing..we shut down the hall at around half past one. Everyone looked great. Everything went smoothly. And it seemed like everyone had a memorable time.

We got home – exhausted. Another night without an ounce of life left in me. I cuddled into M’s arms and slept like a little baby.
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Sunday:

Wimbledon. Federer kicked Rodicks ass. Big time news for die hard tennis heads. Im not one. But M is. Which means that by association, I was too.

S’s “have a happy honeymoon” bbq:

S& Magic in the open. Exhale. Normal. Together. In love. And in the open. It was refreshing. So this is what marriage is like – liberating. They looked happy. The fam was overflowing with food (enough to feed numerous villages in Srilanka), booze (im sure they bought out a few beer stores) and all things typical of an S family jam – and things were great. The Brits were homebound and we conducted all the necessary info swaps needed to keep in touch. R drove the navigator around - a parking lot - but drove it nevertheless. M& I discovered B's secret - pre-rolled tings. Entire kits for the lazy mans spliff. The boys had a blast. M included. He's getting more comfy with this familial unit.
And we hugged S&Magic away on their most romantic honeymoon.

Phew. Relief. One magical weekend drenched in more debauchery than this synopsis could hold – done. Completed. Approved. And seriously certified.
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Monday:

Chores with dad.
Lunch with M and his mom.
Our first look at rings. – yup. That’s what I thought. RINGS! Oh my god! Rings.
More to come on that.

It’s time to put my head down and get back to work.

:)

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