My Best Friend's Wedding

So, finally S is gone, as in she got herself married and is running off to promised lands. Now, it’s just me. It feels weird, I can’t call her anymore and I almost dialed her number at least a dozen times since I have come to Mumbai from the wedding. I had to remind myself that she couldn’t answer the phone. It’s like those phantom pains that amputees get, it’s kinda like that. Okay, maybe I was just a bit melodramatic, but that’s the kind of feeling, as you have lost something important. I know she is not “lost”, but the part of my life where I completed depended on her has come to end. Not, that I won’t bug her anymore, but from now on, I should at least try to deal with my neuroses on my own. I was on my way back from the reception when it finally hit me that she is actually married! It’s a little difficult to imagine. I couldn’t stop crying, I know but super idiotic hormones were acting up :).

This is the first “my friend’s wedding” that I have attended. I am not a wedding person. I suck at small talk especially when that is with people I have never met before. And, man was it hectic (and I was not even involved in the organizing part!). From the Mehndi to the engagement, wedding and finally the reception, the days felt different. It was like a shift in the time space continuum. I did enjoy the whole thing, it was great. But now, I am a firm believer of not going the great-Indian-wedding way.

I probably sound like a Salinger character, but for me this was the definite sign of me being a grown up. I dint like it. I can no longer be that person anymore. I have responsibilities. I hate the feeling. I have to take care of my finances, do the health check-ups and all those accoutrements. This is the beginning of the end.  

Okay, official rant over but I did love the wedding. I loved her saris, the jewelry (yeah, I know I sound like a gult chic, but sometimes I do act like one), everything. I hope she did have a nice time even though she look like a moonstone shining from far off in her reception with the spangled glittery glimmering sari (out of metaphors, sorry for making you read that bad attempt)

Anyways, so I did the official photographer thing for a while, took the stage left with my camera and lenses. It’s nice, waiting for the myriad expressions to come out naturally. I loved every minute of it. So, obviously my mother hated it because I dint have a single picture of me in there. She goes on a rant about how people go to wedding to get their pictures taken and not the other way around. I let her shout, because I was happy with the pictures I have gotten. No regrets.

 P.S I know lame title, but its kinda apt :)