The groom's tale..part 1

This part of the post is in flashback.. As i sit at this corner of Kolkata, and the mercury dipping comfortably to levels calcuttans haven't experienced before..it' all being blamed on that one week between lansdowne and Salt lake, where an unusual amount of warmth was concentrated, leaving rest of the city shivering under blankets and waiting for didi to announce another 'rastaa roko'.

That didn't happen, and as i ventured out in my dhoti and VIP vest to experience the vicco turmeric moment of my life, garrulous aunts in their size 88 figures came out in screechish ulus to coat me in a delectable hue of yellow. The purohit chanted on something that translated to -
"take that shit you marrying man".

Then came the real deal. Draped in dhoti and designer punjabi and with an army of alpha males....i was off to the chadnatola (the place where bride and groom exchange Malas. DD. Double Delight.)
My entourage was delayed, primarily because mom-in-law had probably misplaced a safety pin which was meant to keep her hair bun in place..or last minute touches to the better half were still pending.
So we took a Salt lake detour, amidst jokes about how 'we hab reached aaarlyyy..hahahahaha!'
And then the driver not to miss out on the festive spirit, got off to take a leak.

Now that is a true blue Kolkata wedding.

But that wasn't all. Despite the countless U turns, we did reach before time, and a the traditional boron happened. But as I proudly made my entrance, a take 2 happened. Mom in law, having now arrived, made me rewind my steps back to the reversing of the car and the entire episode was played out.
And then began a night that consisted of me being gifted a sarod, playing that with rusty fingers to broadly smiling genteel bongs who smiled with paternal pride at my 'caaaalchaared' upbringing and Ali Akbar Khan tutelage...while the wafts of gondhoraaj chicken teased my tongue.
To hell with yaman Kalyan on jhaaptaal maan!
Which brings me to the food but that is another post...