Shaadi day today

This evening Chaitanya gets married to Pooja. Locked, bounded on all sides, stuffed in a trunk, and thrown into deep waters, but no Houdini.

This morning all the pre-eminent ladkewalas are gathered around a pooja fire in their finest Indian wear. I'm in classic light blue shirt, white T inside, algae denims, no belt. Oh yes, and my Cat boots. I'm ashamed I've had apply polish on my work bots though.

Tomorrow, we take off to Ujjain - the city of temples. Back in the evening for dinner with the royals. What a coup!

Shaadi ke side effects

Ceremony induced ailments abound in a shaadi. Some stress out a lot about what they'll wear to the morning pooja, to evening cocktail, tomorrow, day after, ad nauseum. Some suffer from obsessive planning disorder. You will spot these people in some corner of the house mired in planning some importantly small details of the shaadi.

Then there are others who suddenly acquire excessive flatulence in shaadis more then a couple days long. These are common varieties of chachas, mamis, mausas, bade papas who've done excellently in life, but with their newly acquired infirmity, they're made to look like small criminals.

I say never be caught in confined spaces with the sufferers for long. It's not good for the other guy.

On getting away

Now, I like this sort of a wedding. You are in a new city with the express purpose of adding to the size of the ladkewale, but you can sneak out every now and then for a spin around the city, soak up the culture, what have you.

Day 1: Indore, first impressions

Indore is supremely chaotic, but beautifully Indian. I'm not here to have an antiseptic experience of a city that mows its lawns to specification.

We climbed the back of trusty beast Spacio to have a look at the Rajwada, and the old fruit bazaar around it. The Rajwada turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, quite unlike the glorious structure that Wikipedia claims it to be. It's basically a large open quadrangle bounded by reinforced walls that are way past their magnificence. You pay 10 bucks to photo shoot, and then you ask yourself, "Now what?"

So you get out and explore the crumbling phul bazaar, with dedicated lanes for lac choodis. I need to say it again - this place is colourful and chaotic. I have been close to being run over in quick succession by vehicles of all sizes, as I do my openly touristy thing of standing in the middle of the road and clicking away.

The ladies in our gang stick their necks into choodi shops, and my boy wants to buy a toy. Fair. We haven't yet really thought about his source of entertainment.

Later, I engage a mithaiwala in conversation over the most awesome steaming plate of gajar ka halwa. Truly, an Andrew Zimmern 'Oh!' moment.

I break protocol at the mithai shop by not purchasing a token, and then circulating them around counters. I just pay the first guy I meet, and that's OK because I'm from Bombay.

First view of the bride

I have a quick drink to cure me of my lumps. It works. In about 20 minutes we'll have our first non-Facebook view of the bride at a gathering for - how one elder put it - the "younger generation." Do people still say that?

Pooja, the bride to be, is all grace and looks charming in a rose pink salwar/kameez. We're at Sayaji Hotel that's packed to the rafters on a Monday evening. There's light Hindi pop and ghazal being belted out live from a few rows behind us. I will not comment here on how the music has engrossed me.

We're six stomachs visiting from Bombay, but sometimes we have the occasion to bask in our Mumbai halos. Despite our august company. No one's saying that they like it.

The evening passes eventfully for me - I'm able to say "goodnight" to the royals. There's some talk of raiding Sarafa for jalebas and gulab jamuns, but the wives quickly quash the plan. They're already living this wedding by the events of their choosing.

The regal has landed

A noisy flight brings us to Devi Ahilyabai Holkar Airport at about 8 in the evening. Devi Ahilyabai Holkar. The founder queen of Indore. I can't say if I've had more goosebumps anticipating the company of royals for a week at the wedding I'm attending, or landing at an airport with a blue-blooded affiliation such as this.

Anyway, we're whisked away urgently from the airport on a bone clattering ride to our base camp in Vijay Nagar. Tata Spacios can do with better suspension.

The house is draped in lights, and stands out in the darkness with its bigness and beauty. The groom meets us at the door of our Spacio, handshakes and congratulations all around. Almost immediately a couple royals from Jhabua appear. His Highness Rajkunwar Kamlendra Singh is introduced to me and I can't handle the goosebumps anymore. Next up - his wife Rajkumari Brindeshwai, the princess of Orchcha, near Jhansi. Her Highness is dressed in a lovely peach sequined sari, with a final flourish of her pallu over her head. Rajkunwar chooses to dress more like a business executive. I'm dressed like a redneck and smelling of...um...Bombay airport. For a moment, I don't feel a huge disconnect between myself and the Spacio. I make a personal note - must dress a lot better for this wedding.

Meanwhile, in the company of kings and queens of an erstwhile glory, I have too many lumps in my throat to make any suitable conversation.