Fauja, as I fondly call my friend Kamal, got married on 8th December. I was fortunate enough to catch all the fun and hoopla. On the surprising note I got to know that the marriage gate opener of our batch was engaged way back in seventh semester. At some point I always knew fauja was going to be the one or rather the first one.
Venue: The wedding celebrations were to take place at his native place, a village with lush green mustard farms called Narnaul, located in Haryana.
How I Reached: To be honest not that smooth considering I was travelling from Nagpur. I landed up in New Delhi and stayed at my bro's place for a day. Next day on 7th December I took metro to Gurgaon. Metro is honestly the best thing to happen to Delhi in recent times. Cheers for Mr Shreedharan. Next was the task of scouting for that one elusive bus that will drop me to my destination. After jetting from one place to other I got the right bus. Reached Narnaul and then got to know his place was another 12 km from there. And I finally met fauja late in the evening. Fauja looked still the same chubby but glowing with red cheeks. Well the journey was good fun but I will consider next time going by my private charter plane, what say you?
The day I landed there ie 7th, one function was scheduled in the evening. The groom rides around the village on a horse with all the kith and kin following behind. Not to forget the music and the dance in full flow. It was good fun, dancing on the Haryaanvi songs. One of fauja's friend Manoj actually stole the show with his "fatak" dance. Poor horse was sagging under fauja's weight. I too showed what dancing is all about. All were back little late and the guest group ie me and fauja's school friends headed straight for our cosy dome. It was freaking chilly outside. Dinner was awesome. Tasty Desi Ghee laced thick chappati with hot Kadhi, halwa, sweets and a hot cuppa. I was the first one to surrender to sleep and rest chatted on for longer.
I fell in love with the morning in Narnaul. So peaceful, clear and with fresh air in abundance. It was the D-day and most of the action was in the evening only. So day was just spent in checking out places nearby. Wedding in a village is boon time for barbers. Half of the villagers flocking to get the right cut and the best shave from the "experts". First event was in the house where the center of attention fauja, was given presents by family members. He was loaded with cash although in a garland form. I was planning to lay my hand on it but missed.
I was waiting for any other soul from our batch who would turn up that day but they all came a little late. By evening everyone was ready to go. The main wedding function was arranged at bride's location, a little far from his place. The complete baraat was loaded into buses and cars. As the evening proceeded the winter started to kick in. We reached a mid way spot where the second function of the evening was scheduled. Something to do with bride's father and the groom. So after this groom was set, the horse seemed pretty excited, baraati's were busy complaining about winter and khaatirdaari, band-baaja was already in place. Barak and the Sapient boys also joined us there. It was really great meeting the ait buddies Rawat, Pha, Chauhan, Anurag and Barak.
Everyone was having a blast. Barak was in full mood that day. He was shaking like Elvis. Rawat was his usual self, doing the bolly mix dance he is known for. Pha was shying away a little and made me wonder if it was he who was getting married. The final Bhangra set the mood. Everyone was now waiting for Jaimaala to take place. Fauja smiling ear to ear grabbed his place on stage quickly. We all were waiting for Bhabhi ji to now grace the red carpet (it was not red though lighter a shade of red). Well to kill time in an Indian marriage the best thing to do is just go for sampling and tasting every dish being served. The attack mode switched soon enough.
Well I must say fauja ji and bhabhi ji were looking good togather. Fireworks followed by jaimaala. After that the usual photo stuff, posing and clicking. Rawat was too eager to get the middle place between groom and bride, I wonder why? After this were the Saat Pheras, although I lost track of the count after third one so not sure actually how many took place. I don't understand why marriages have to be such a long drawn affair. Surely fauja must have been praying "finish it of man!" But it all ended on a happy happy note for our dear fauja. So now they were Mr and Mrs Yadav. At the same time somewhere away from all this was a happy and content soul, Mr JDP. The reason, I am sure all the mechies of my batch would know.
