27 June 2004 – 900 Hrs

Chitra hollers on the phone about the importance of my getting a facial done and coloring my hair to hide the few gray hair that found the perfect time to show up. After some thought I agreed to it with the reluctance of a rat in a cat’s mouth. I was staying in Regency along with my younger brother. He was supposed to be my aide for the big day, but he was more than happy to restrict himself to finishing the Old monk rum and cracking stupid jokes about my hair, temper, and the wedding itself. At half-past-nine I met Renu (chit’s friend) and we were off to the men’s parlor.



The day before I had visited the dentist with Renu (Chit wanted to leave no stone unturned). It was this hep clinic with quite a few pretty young things (doctors) buzzing about. After a wait that lasted for about ten minutes, the doctor – a beautiful doctor – asked me to step in. I spent the better part of the next couple of hours staring into her face which was perilously close to my face (three inches!). I walked out with clean teeth and a heavy heart. I also made a fool of myself by accepting an appointment the next evening: my wedding day. I realized my blunder only after I’d stepped out.

1000 Hrs

As Renu (Dr.Renu by the way) and I were inching (forgive the pun Renu) towards this Men’s parlor in the lazy Bangalore traffic my mind was busy barbecuing itself with the seemingly impossible logistics of transporting my entire family from the rail station to the wedding hall. Chit’s dad had generously accepted the challenge and promised to be at the station right on the dot. The clouds raced across and locked into each other in a seemingly wicked congregation. No matter how much I told myself ‘it is gonna be ok’, the lump in my throat refused to budge. The possibility of a rain –as romantic as it may appear- gave me the chills.

We reached Golden Touch, the parlor, at around ten. Golden Touch sat bang in the middle of a residential area. An eerie calm prevailed in the waiting area. Some boys were whispering among themselves, arguing which style would suit, from a photo album that the Golden Touch guys had provided. I heard something churn in my stomach; I had a premonition that this whole parlor thing was going to blow right up on my face, and make me look like –on the most important day of my life – an Orangutan with conjunctivitis, and mouth ulcers. Renu rolled her expressive eyes and called the parlor guy. She explained to the parlor man that I wanted to color my hair and scrub my face with all the creams that he got. He nodded and said, ‘three hours’. I almost fainted with the thought of my family at the rail station waiting for me. We finally convinced him to do it under two hours. The train from Chennai was reaching Bangalore at 1330 hours and I did not want to be late to receive my family, for I knew that if I missed presenting myself when the jing-bang reached Bangalore, the repercussions were –to say the least – grave. The parlor guy went in after asking us to wait in the waiting area. Renu suddenly realized her passion for Bollywood movie mags and dove right into one of them (the mag was by a conservative estimate, a year old). So, I sat there, fidgety, and suffering from an incoherence that can be matched by the inmates of a lunatic asylum.

The parlor guy stuck his head out from his sanctum sanctorum and invited me in. I let out an audible sigh of relief, much to the chagrin of Renu who was disturbed from her Bollywood calling by my sigh.

The interior of the parlor was cramped for space. I saw a guy with some orange paste on his face, and I wanted to compliment him: ‘hey you look cool man!’ But lack of guts and increased churning activity in my tummy made me forget him. I also noticed that people were coloring their hair in all kinds of weirdo colors. Pink! Man!

The parlor guy scrubbed my face with some dozen creams, face-packs, and the works. And colored my hair with Loreal Natural Black. While I was sitting in the waiting area to let the hair color settle down, Suren, my bro, called up to announce that Chit’s dad there some where in the station but he was not able to find my family. I checked my watch, which screamed half-past one, and my heart started banging against my ribcage. My squeaky clean, glowing face broke into a generous sweat. My ear lobes went warm. The sky laughed with a thunderclap, as if saying’ ‘there’s more baby’, and I jumped out of my chair and ran.

1330 Hrs

While on the bike with Renu I successfully psyched myself into believing that my family is going to have me for lunch.

My elder brother called. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. I pleaded with him to manage the situation. ‘It’s been forty minutes since we reached and there’s no sign of your father-in-law and party. Should we take a cab?’ If I had said yes I would have started WW-3. I hung up and called Chit. After a fight and some awesome screaming, I realized that there was not much I could do. I so badly wanted to be in the station, but I could not do anything. It started raining. The clouds became darker and it appeared that the stage was set for a calamitous downpour.

Some where along the way I decided to not to go to the station, but meet my folks directly at the wedding hall instead. I sounded this off to Suren who was edgy like hell.

Suren kept sending messages on my mobile about how my uncles were throwing a fit. And I was pissed off. There’s always this uncle in every family that loves showing off and is a pain in the butt in occasions like these. I have one and he was at it with the relish of a starving tiger in a sheep farm.

As Renu’s bike veered into the small lane where the hall was located, I saw my family get off a van and I immediately noticed the stern expressions. I ran to my dad and my brothers. Things weren’t all that bad, but it left my father-in-law in a dazed state. I spoke to my pa-in-law and dispensed with some encouraging words, but he looked implacable. Welcome to the family uncle.

1500 Hrs

Kicha my best friend and best man called from the airport. He had reached Bangalore. I asked him to go to the hotel, freshen up, and show up at the wedding hall.

I was whisked away and was asked to get ready for the ‘Welcome the Groom’ function. The function involves visiting a temple, offer prayers, and step in to the wedding hall. I was done with it and now I was asked to get ready for the main function: the reception.

Write to me: suman (at) sumankumar(dot)com