There is something I really love about Indian weddings and I seldom ask myself what is that? Is it the band baja baraat, the tasty delicacies or rather I should refer to that smell as the famous smell of carbs, the happy smiles or maybe some frowns here and there or its the excitement of family members. I guess all these things are right but there one thing which is more precious and sacred to the wedding custom and that is the only reason I feel a lot of people relish weddings: The promise.
Yes its the promise that we feel the bride and groom are giving to each other that night. A promise to stand by each other no matter what and to not look beyond one another in life. Its a very big promise indeed which most people fail to keep as I guess it fades away and someone is yet to discover a way for couples to remember these vows for life.
Anyways, it was soon time for the jaimala and Kiran’s mom asked me to bring Kiran from her dressing room. I have known this crazy girl Kiran since I was a child and hence practically I was her soul sister and had all rights to behave like one since Kiran was the only child and her mom always looked at me as someone who could be Kiran’s comforter. I always called Kiran’s mom Mumu and I knew that Mumu always felt guilty for not being able to give Kiran a normal life as she was very small when her father deserted both her and her mother and Mumu decided to cut all cords with her abusive in laws. But to her surprise they were more in hurry to break the cords but sadly a lot of her own relatives stopped contacting them as somehow Kiran had become an obligation on a lot of relatives. This left Kiran with only couple of close relatives which were her mother’s sister and her Irish husband and their 2 handsome son; Jermy and Jared who lived in Ireland with their parents and were here to attend the wedding. So apart from them I was the only close person for her at the wedding.