(Disclaimer:
I don’t encourage elopement, for it takes a heavy toll on the families of the persons
involved in the act.)
Marriages
are made in heaven, some believe. But not all marriages, few say. It became
true in the case of a guy, who gave me my firsthand
experience with elopement.
A friend
of mine, after our post-graduation, revealed his plans to elope
and marry his lover. She was house
arrested for about a year-and-half, until the day she ran off, since the day he
approached her parents, soon after landing a decent job. His parents, too,
opposed their alliance because of caste. However, he didn’t give up on making
an effort to convince them all, but to no avail. All the while, she kept in
touch with him by sneaking a cell phone in her dress into the bathroom.
But, I
had a hunch that he chose to marry a wrong person and I did warn him against making
a wrong move, but in vain (alas! Love is blind, not always though)! A handful
of bold buddies agreed to help him. My family
got the wedding invite, too, so I could make it to the ceremony. A temple in a
remote village near Rajahmundry became the venue.
The
D-day arrived and I reached the RVP by 8 am, only to realise that I’m the only
girl taking the adventure trip; the rest backed off in the last minute,
apparently out of fear. A few moments later, one of our friends picked the girl
up from her home, and we all left for the wedding venue in a jeep. Four guys on
two bikes escorted us. However, there was no chase, like in films, but there were
adrenaline rush and persistent efforts to console the hysterically weeping bride.
All along, my intuition kept warning me, but there was little I could do to
prevent the imminent danger, and the journey seemed excruciatingly long.
The
girl’s tears kept flowing even after we arrived at the venue in the afternoon. As
the muhurat was late in the night, my friends kept cheering her up in every
possible way. They finally succeeded, but my woes just began.
I
had to drape the saree, do the makeup and decorate the bride. With no helping
hand, it took me several hours, my yet another firsthand experience. Nevertheless,
all these seemed less troubling, for the bride didn’t eat anything since
morning and was on the verge of falling unconscious. I somehow convinced her to
have few morsels of a burnt, soggy masala dosa so she won’t pass out during the
wedding. However, I had little time to dress up or eat and left for the temple in
my unsuited-for-the-occasion chudidar.
I had my
dinner sitting right behind the bride, amid the
chanting of hymns. Well, the burnt, soggy masala dosa tasted yum to the starving-me!
The guests, who attended another wedding in the same venue, blessed the newlyweds
as well. While autographing the marriage register, as a witness, I offered my heartfelt
condolences to my buddy, in silence.
The
rest is history. My friends kept me posted about his rocking marriage life, for
he hardly got an opportunity to stay in touch with me. Then, one day, he telephoned
me. “You were right Jyothi. I chose a wrong person! My life became a living hell,”
he wailed, while narrating a story as complex as Ekta Kapoor serial. I could do
nothing but pray for him and his parents, hoping that they would get all the
strength required to adapt to the agony.
Even
as I was amazed at my sixth sense, which proved me right, someone inside me chuckled,
“We seal our fate with the choices we make!”
Tags:
#elopement #marriages #FirsthandExperience
#wedding #bride #muhurat #newlyweds
Well said
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