Groomside view

Owing to some eccentricity in our ancestral genes, there was no female birth in our family for almost a century. The only women additions were through the entry of daughters-in law. This meant that the behaviour pattern among the males tended to be towards a degree of arrogance. It is a regular refrain from the incoming spouses that men in our family seem to be excessively independent and tend to do ‘their own thing’. This mismatch also meant that we were always representing the groom’s side at all family marriages and were automatically upgraded to ‘preferred guest’ status. 

I decided to correct this anomaly and last month offered to be the Chief-of-Staff for the wedding of my classmate’s daughter. He readily accepted my suggestion. I had no clue on how to be a bride’s party member so I went for advice to my colleague who had successfully married off three daughters. Ignore the bridegroom’s parents and concentrate on his aunts and uncles, was his advice. According to him trouble starts from there. Also, make sure the coffee is hot. That is the trigger point for all complaints, he added.

It was now time to take the bridegroom for his trousseau. I suggested we go to a venerable tailoring establishment on Commercial Street who had stitched my wedding suit. It was nixed as being old fashioned. We then went to a designer store on Lavelle Road. The design as well as the cost made me cringe but I was not the final authority on this, so I let it pass.

I later paid a visit to the groom’s family to get their suggestions on the catering. The boy’s mother told me that vada and payasam should be a compulsory part of the menu. This put me in a fix. They were from one of the neighbouring states where these items were the norm on all auspicious occasions, but in my family vadas were prepared and served only during not-so- happy occasions. The caterer used his ingenuity to overcome this hiccup by suggesting that the item be in the shape of a bonda.

As the wedding day neared I was running ragged. The bride’s father had conveniently gone on a foreign tour and I was literally left holding his baby. One day I got a call from the groom’s sister wanting to know where the sangeet was going to be held. What sangeet, I asked? The phone went dead. A few minutes later the bride’s mother called me and said that the groom’s family was very upset and had felt insulted? I defended myself by saying that nobody had informed me about any sangeet being organized. Luckily the bride and her pals took care of all the arrangements. My job was to use influence with my service officer friends to get ‘hot’ beverages at a concession for the function.

My travails are too long to be recorded. However, after packing off the newlyweds  to Macau, here I am sitting on my La-Z-Boy feeling proud of my achievement and ready to offer my expertise, gratis to parents of prospective brides. Any takers?