Straight from the horse's mouth

If they feed me one more piece of jaggery, I swear I will gallop away...

In the opposite direction, no less.

These days are the official calendared days for Indian weddings, and if you think that is enough to make me - a white mare - break out into a welcome jig, you couldn’t be more wrong.

I am draped in what is termed ‘choicest finery’ – but which is more like a prickly, choking piece of another five kgs onto my smooth back.

(I can imagine what the poor bride must feel, weighed down with a 20-kilo plus lehenga and all that jewelry. And she has to smile shyly through it all!) Heavens!

Even though there is a cool breeze blowing, today it will not make my mane bristle, plaited as it is with a mouli (a red sacred thread).

Several people breathe down my neck, looking at the handsome groom who straddles me, prince-like. Him – I don’t mind, but the multitude of people who push to catch a glimpse (of him, not me) – now that is what causes my latent claustrophobia to resurface with a vengeance...

Almost if reading my mind, my keeper tightens the reins around me, making all thoughts of escape impossible.

The boy who sits with the groom tests all my patience put together though, what with his constant digging his heels into my delicate sides, and pulling my ears. It is a miracle I don’t snort, pull my hooves up into the air, and cause the little bugger to fall off.

And then starts the ritual of stuffing me silly with Bengal gram. Groannnn!!!

Now I like soaked-he-previous-night Bengal gram. I even find it tasty. But there is only one mouth that I have been blessed with, and the number of hands feeding me, to put it mildly, are more than quite a few. And then there the other problem of being able to eat only that much...

Plus I have never been a ready contender for who-can-eat-the-most competitions, preferring to enjoy the hay and oats that my keeper provides me. I look around languorously, taking my own sweet time, reminiscing of those moments when that flawlessly handsome stallion had looked at me from over yonder, and time for me had stood still..Sweeeeeet.

Needless to say, I sullenly partake the offering by the many eager pairs of hands, which have made it their business to make me choke and splutter.

Don't even get me started about the fireworks. Which cause my very hooves to tremble. Why they insist on frightening me half to death, is something which frankly, goes beyond me.

And then there are the drums that threaten to include my name in the list of the hearing-impaired. And which are enough to bring back those from six feet under (Shudder).

Resentfully I make my way through it all, sighing in relief when I reach the brightly-lit venue, where many garlands and vermilion-cum-incense trayed people await us. The forty-minute walk with the groom and child atop, and the crowd of accompanying dancing baraatis have done nothing to put me into a happy frame of mind.

However, when I snort impatiently and look up, I catch a glimpse of the shy, bedecked bride, blushingly looking at her husband-to-be as he alights from me.

And suddenly it is totally worth every miserable minute.

It is almost as if time has stood still for her too as she catches that first glimpse of her soul mate walking majestically towards her. To make her his. Forver...

Being a white mare at a wedding isn’t all that bad, after all.

I'm such a sucker for romance. Sighhhh!!!

The honeymoon's not over yet...

The last few days have been a whirlwind for me literally.

Dream marriage followed by a dream honeymoon.

When the entire rigmarole of marriage ceremonies was over, and TOOMA and I had some breathing time finally, it was soon time to zoom off to that city of lovers – Paris.

And boy! Were we not disappointed!

Stylish women dressed to the nines, blowing ringlets of smoke, hailed cabs with perfectly manicured hands, their Hermes scarves fluttering in the wind, like sails of a ship. Their chic chignons were the last you saw of them as they stepped in gracefully in one fluid movement. Oh, and did I mention the surfeit of sky-high Jimmy Choos and Diors that made their way into my line of vision.

It’s a wonder I am back to my regular skin tone from the emerald shade I was.

They don’t call Paris the fashion capital of the world for nothing.

While the men there experimented with various zany hairstyles, carpenter jeans and ochre / fuschia loafers and Surprise Surprise managed to look good after them all, the women were the ones who caught my attention and TOOMA’s. For entirely different reasons, I may add.

Let me limit myself to a single word that summed up their modish garb – WOW!

Bolero jackets, Daisy Dukes, cashmeres that whispered to be touched, ponchos, bodices, knickerbockers, capes, mantles, smocks, jumpers, kilts, minijupes with fishnet stockings – you name it, and it could be seen on the streets.

The garb bought on a shoe-string budget kept neck to neck to their snootier, dressier designer labels counterparts. So while I gaped at them openly, the wearers walked regally past me, their Jimmy Choos clicking smartly, canines of different breeds keeping pace with their long strides.

The Parisian breakfast that we treated ourselves to the next day, deserve a worthy note of mention.

Brioches, Croissants of all kinds, raisin pecan bread (TOOMA’s favorite), whipped-cream and cheese baguettes, choquettes. Washed down with freshly squeezed orange juice, or as was the case with TOOMA, the bottle of Chardonnay / Chianti / Chablis that beckoned to him invitingly.

The list of places that we visited there, in no particular order:

1. The Eiffel Tower. But obviously!
2. Champs Elysees – and oh boy! Was I blinded by the overdose of fashion houses that stood tall and majestic there
3. Montmartre / Basilique du Sacre-Coeur and the tiny market on the mountain which many artists had made their hub – offering sketches@Euro 20-30 per sketch
4. Fragonard Le Musee du Parfum – the Museum of Perfumes, Einstein
5. The closely resembling our very own Gateway of India - the Arc De Triomphe
6. While the Da Vinci Code went a long way in acquaintig millions with the Louvre, our abbreviated tour of the Louvre and the Mona Lisa in person went far ahead.
7. Moulin Rouge
8. The Lido
9. Hard Rock Café and its amazing memorabilia. Va-Va-Voom!
10. The Le Mur Des Je T’Aime Wall
11. Notre-Dame Cathedral
12. The Statue of Liberty replica in the middle of the River Seine
13. The Flame of Liberty
14. The tunnel where Princess Diana expired with beau, Dodi Al-Fayed, in the horrendous car crash that fateful August 1997

The evening cruise on one of the beautiful Bateaux Mouches the River Seine was by far the most romantic, affording us spectacular views of the illuminated Eiffel Tower, the Assemblee Nationale, Louvre, Notre-Dame Cathedral, Palais Royal, Les Invalides, Alexander III Bridge, Orsay Museum.

The City of Lights made more than a pretty picture. It was one of the prettiest pictures I have ever seen.

To add to the romantic air were the mandatory kisses under every bridge(and I stopped counting after 12), much to my glee and TOOMA’s evident discomfiture. Tee hee.

And how can I forget – the duty-free shopping at Dubai that did wonders to bring out my Colgate-white pearlies on full display.

What else can a girl ask for?

Right from the time we stepped out from the aircraft into the Parisian nippy evening air, to the time we boarded our flight back, it was one long party.

And thankfully, everybody wasn’t invited.

J’adore Paris!

'Break'ing News

Lest my loyal readers think that I have sworn off blogging, or am practising my neglecting act to a ‘T,’ I should sit up straight, try a blushing-bride-shy-smile routine, fail miserably at it, and then try something else.

So here it goes.

With my wedding scheduled for this month for April 17, I wouldn’t be able to do justice to my blog, much as I would like to.

I know that you would understand that there would be oodles of wholly important stuff I shall be busy with, like:

a) Nodding off at every opportunity I get
b) Thinking up ways to scratch some unmentionable parts when both my hands are covered in henna (oh horror!) or worse, an inability to visit the washroom despite a threatening-to-burst bladder
c) Blinking at and trying to recognise relatives I haven’t seen since the time I was in diapers
d) Wondering how I would balance a 20-something kg ‘lehenga’s drape on my beehive hairdo
e) Frowningly staring at people stuffing their faces while my tummy makes indignant, rumbling sounds, and
f) All the while keeping a serene / coy smile, when all I can do is to keep from bursting into tears

I know that doing all the above warrants some sympathetic tongue-clicking and / or a standing ovation.

Ohh, thank you. You needn’t have!

I understand what a gaping hole the next 25 days would be for you.

But, I promise to return with a BANG! Literally!

Around the first week of May.

And if I get an opportunity to dash off something in between too, I would definitely do that too.

Wish me luck.

As I bring in yet another phase of my (eventful) life.

My 'ALTARED' state of mind

Most people would have sat on a rollercoaster.

Or at least stared at one, as it speeds dizzyingly, eliciting screams from those who
are riding it.

I feel I am ON a rollercoaster. An emotional one at that.

The oscillating, heart-in-my-mouth-dry-throated feeling is frequent, to say the least.

So you have my deliriously happy spells, interspersed with gleeful spiel by close friends, all conjuring merry pictures of conjugal bliss. (The glossy magazines sure do their work well).

On the flip side, there are also those moments when I sit with my face cupped in my palms, glumness writ large over my face – such are the images that some paint for me.

Some questions / comments that are guaranteed to make me do a volte-face from cool, collected chica to an anxiety-attacked, shitting bricks woman:

Uhmm, you are such a party animal. Have you kissed ‘em parties Goodbye?
You do know you wouldn’t have the freedom to travel when you want to, don’t you?
But you don’t know how to cook (anything except stories) (Incredulous expression)? How would you manage?
How would you buy your (insert appropriate number) pair of sandals? Wouldn’t you guys fight over it?
I’m really happy for you. But Aha! Giving up the joys of being single, are you? (Sigh) Good luck, dude!

And the worst –

Oh super!!! You getting hitched. Thinking of a Valentine baby?

Aaaaargh!

Stop. Just stop.

Thank God it just takes a conversation with TOOMA to soothe my ruffled feathers.

And make me jump out of my blues and swing back, with renewed vigor, into my idyllic state.

The (Un)willing Groom

Indian guys are luckier than guys in other nations. On their marriage day, it is customary for some Indian grooms to sit on a white mare.

Talk about getting a last, providential chance to escape….

Their less-fortunate counterparts on the other hand, keep thinking why they did not invest in those superbly-crafted running shoes, that would have carried them far-far away to safety…to the land of the five Bs – Budweisers, Boys’ night outs, Bikes and let me not write the last two which go hand-in-hand, and which if I make a mention here, will cause my blog rating to change from a neat PG13 to an A.

Unfortunately, a Japanese guy, Tatsuhiko Kawata , who was due to get married on October 26 this year, decided that he couldn’t get the better of his decidedly clammy case of cold feet. And he wasn’t even to be given a horse to sit on.

A decidedly raw deal, he was certain.

Which is when the 39-year old, unwilling-groom-to-be, hit upon a brilliant plan.

In the week hours of Sunday, he set fire to the hotel that was to have been the venue for his marriage later that day. And cancelled the wedding thereafter.

The cancelling-act did him in, because he was arrested soon after.

After he is released from prison, I sure hopes he invests in some heavy-duty protection wear, including the toughest helmet money can buy, and maybe a bouncer for himself. Sturdy pair of ear muffs – optional.

After all, you never know what ‘gifts’ his (now-ex)fiancée will be bestowing upon him...

Looking for a mate for your mutt?

If you stay in New Delhi or planning to visit it this weekend, it could very well be a ‘knotty’ one for your canine.

In a first, the Ansal Plaza Business Center, which has been in the news recently for its plans to throw open its mall doors to pet dogs during non-peak hours, is organising a mutt-marriage tomorrow – Saturday, August 30.

The ‘ceremony,’ besides allowing pet owners to decide upon a suitable partner for their pets, will also feature fashion shows, and titles like ‘most lovable pet,’ ‘most photogenic pet,’ etc.

The four hour long event, can be registered for free, and will see the likes of pet marshals and vets, besides the regular police personnel, to ensure safety and security.

Promises to be lots of fun.

And if you are scoffing at the idea, maybe you should go eat your hat, as ninety pet owners have already registered for the event.

Quite a novel way to saw ‘Bow Vows,’ I must say.

I approve.

Wuff Wuff.

A Room with a view...

Hate crowded hotels?

Guard your privacy jealously?

The very idea of hob-nobbing with the common herd in hotel lobbies, corridors, and elevators, makes you curl your upper lip in distaste?

Well then, look no further than the Everland Hotel.

Perched atop the Palais De Tokyo (Paris), this mobile hotel offers a direct view at the Eiffel Tower.

Ohh, and did I mention, it has only one room to let out to guests?

There,…. your privacy gets a solid tick.

The brainchild of Swiss artists Sabina Lang and Daniel Baumann, Hotel Everland was originally conceived for Expo 2002. It has been exhibited in Yverdon (Switerland), and Leipzig (Germany), and since last year October, it sits pretty atop the contemporary art museum, the Palais De Tokyo, overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

People can visit it during the day, or reserve it for the night, after the museum closes. You have uptil December 31, 2008 to book yourself there, after which it will be moved to a yet-undisclosed location.

Of course, a night-out there doesn’t come cheap.

The Four Star cube-shaped hotel, which can comfortably lodge a couple, comprises a deluxe rest room, a king-sized bed, and a lounge; and would set you back by €333 for a weekday, and €444 if you choose a weekend night.

The hotel staff urges you to steal the golden embroidered bath towels as a souvenir.

Online bookings can be made at the Hotel’s website.

This one is sure one well-traveled hotel (pun intended).

Movie Review: 27 Dresses

I would be lying if I said that I went to watch 27 Dresses without any expectations. After all, what would you expect from the screenwriter who gave us the immensely entertaining and vividly resplendent The Devil Wears Prada (TDWP).

Katherine Heigl as the quirky but nevertheless perennial do-gooder Jane is a Manhattan singleton, in love with her boss (Ed Burns), who besides throwing in a good word and a pat on the back every now and then, is utterly oblivious of her adoration. With a best friend in the form of Judy Greer, she of the sourest of tongues, and the most vivid of expressions, Jane has some relief from her persistent Good Samaritan-ness.

Besides of course, a fascination for weddings...

Our leading lady, when she is not mooning over her boss, can be found shuttling between wedding receptions, sometimes two on the same night.

Dressed as a bridesmaid.

The perpetual bridesmaid, Jane has seen and done it all – she’s dressed in clothes, now stashed into her home closet, that can only be termed torture attire inflicted by the bride-to-be upon the bridesmaids so as to look better than them, lifted gowns of the bride-to-be so that the latter could fulfill answer nature’s call before taking the vows at the altar, danced with the families of both parties, you name it…
Ho-hum story, huh.

Enter Jane’s spoilt younger sister, the man-magnet, Tess (Malin Akerman), who waltzes straight into her life, and into the wide arms of Ed. Within a matter of days, Tess has Ed eating out of her hands, tied to her pinky, and even all set to walk down the aisle. And who else to arrange for the wedding, than dahlin elder sistah!

Respite comes to an unwilling Jane in the form of cynical wedding columnist Kevn (Va Va Voom, James Marsden – the dishy Cyclops from X-Men), who is keen to cover her for his breakthrough story for his reporting career.

A stinging slap from Judy, a deliberate presentation at Tess and Ed’s wedding rehearsal dinner, a very entertaining round of sloshed singing at a roadside bar, the predictable rain, the subsequent romp in the sack, and the morning-after misunderstanding – 27 Dresses has all the trappings of a movie to keep you suitably happy.

And smiling, in spite of its predictability.

A fun-filled Sunday afternoon watch with your gal pals, 27 Dresses is not as huge a stunner as TDWP, but somewhere along the line, the story strikes the right chord.
As for the men folk, for obvious reasons, they would cite severe health conditions and bolt for the door at the very mention of yet another chick flick.

I wouldn’t blame them...

What with all that taffeta, lace, and organza spread throughout the movie in ample measure, they are definite to go running helter-skelter into the open doors of the nearest watering hole, and grab a six-pack...

Hic Hic!

All right people, Say Cheese

At my brother’s wedding last week, I realized the major role that photographers play. The cheerful lad, upon whom rested the onus of making people look good while getting their pics clicked, lay hidden behind the huge lens, for most part of the wedding. The only words he would mouth at regular intervals were, Say cheese,” which he would use to orchestrate the retinue to all count simultaneously, and utter a perfectly-synchronized “Cheese.”

A random question to my father as to why people say “cheese” while getting snapped, when the alternative “whiskey” would do equally well, and also force the face into a smile, brought about a predictable frown from him.

Hushed temporarily, I couldn’t help but think as to how people, even if they were fighting, would crease their faces into uncharacteristic, bordering-on-fake smiles – and all to get that elusive happy face on that Polaroid.

My mother is an exception to this rule of blinding-smile-while-getting-clicked. She will smile for a picture only if she genuinely feels like. All pleas to her to flash one of them elusive smiles(only during clicking sessions), fall upon deaf ears, and the photographer will be rewarded with a grin, only if he catches her in a good mood. Otherwise, an au naturel look is all that he will get. Besides the polite “Thank you,” that is.

I, on the other hand, am her exact opposite. Every time a camera makes an appearance near me within the vicinity of half a kilometer, my eyes light up and crinkle, and there – all my pearlies are on full display, ready to be immortalized in yet another pic with the exact glazed, happy (but fake) smile, that you can see, in photo upon yet another photo. Shameless I am, when it comes to getting clicked. Some of my goofy smiles have been compared to Garfield's, when he sees a piping-hot plate of lasagna. Burppppp!

Some, like my entire family, believe in a half-smile, showing a few teeth. There are others who consider a full smile, without any display of teeth, their most flattering self. Some like me, believe in going all the way, and flashing brilliant, sunny smiles.

For the rest, there is always the option of the brown paper bag tied tightly around the neck…;-)

Wedding Singers

The roads have never looked more crowded.

Wherever your eyes may roam, you are bound to see one of these on the roads – a white mare, groups of band men with musical instruments in tow, gaily-dressed, bejeweled women dancing with full glee and abandon with their equally resplendently dressed male counterparts, thick smoke thanks to the brilliant fireworks in the skies, and of course, the ubiquitous string of cars and other vehicles.

The wedding season has begun. And how!

Any shopkeeper worth his Kanjeevarams, chooris, sherwaanis, and motichur laddoos will vouch that the big fat Indian wedding season is right upon us, causing him to grin all the way to the bank, pockets jangling.

The snooty mall owner will also assure you that yes, indeed, the shopping bags have never gone home more overflowing. And nope, he ain’t grumbling, smile perfectly plastered over his smug face. There he goes to light yet another expensive incense-stick in front of the benevolent deity’s figurine.

Decorators are full choc-a-bloc, with many booked for the next two months straight.

Ditto for salons, spas, and the like. Because as they say, what good is a bride if she does not look straight out of the pages of a glossy?

With the spate of customized weddings on the rise, one is spoilt for choice. If you have the means, just lie back in that comfortable couch, and leave all arrangements to be made by companies, who will tailor-make the wedding, as per all your specifications, right down to the last coconut needed for the shaadi ka mandap.

Family, relatives, friends, neighbors, colleagues, acquaintances – it’s one long party.

And everyone’s invited.

To see the love that brings two people together who want to spend the rest of their lives together, for better or for worse.

Cheesy?

Nahhh! Kinda sweet.