Forget my husband, SAVE MY LEHENGA!

         

Save My Lehenga

   

            It was the month of February, and I had been attending numerous marriages. Moreover, after enjoying the laughs, the pictures, and some delicious and some diarrhoea causing food, I realised something: When a girl is getting married, or going to her best friend's marriage, she does not care about anything other than her dresses and jewellery. And I have two stories to prove my point.


My first story begins with a phone call, not of the bride but of her best friend.

Sitting in my room, staring at a white screen for an hour, I had a sudden realisation that my brain was stuck with writers' block disease. This virus though seems harmless at first, but it slowly eats away the confidence of a young writer. In my mind, I knew how I wanted my story will pan out. However, I was not able to get the words to flow through my fingers. Exhausted with working hard at not writing, I sat on my bed watching the new episode of Walking dead. Enjoying the zombies eating human, I heard the faint sound of my phone ringing. Frantaically, I combed my bed, but I could not find it. Then I remembered that I hid it under the pillow. My strange reason was not to get disturbed by these constant Notifications. Yes, I could have put it in silence mode, but I just did not, so do not argue.

'Hello. . . Arjuun, suno na. . . please yaar mere sath  market tak chalo,' said my friend. 
I had planned a full day of hardwork and commitment towards writing but I was already made up my mind. I was going to accompany her to in her shopping adventure. Maybe I just wanted to get out of the house or it was her sweet way of saying my name. Let me think. . . Definately her way of saying Arjuun Suno na. 

I quickly brushed the thick mop of hair on my head, wore the jeans and shirt lying around and in ten minutes I was outside her flat waiting for her to come down.

I had already called her before I reached her place. I know women, Be down in two minutes mean you are going to wait for me another ten minutes. 

'I am coming,' she said. Then she took her ten minutes to lock up her home and come down 20 flights of stairs. This is what I do not get; why do women make us wait so much? We writers have to much free time, we tend to ponder on these topics. After she apologized, we were of to the market. 

During the ride over, she told me she has to get her lehenga altered before 24th February (only three days left). The way she explained it, I could see the urgency. I knew the world was going to end if she didn't get the Lehenga. Before, I felt that lehenga was not just a piece of clothing, but now this very thing that could save humanity. Furthermore, she added that all boutiques are worthless as they charge too much, plus they take too much time, and often they do not do their jobs properly.

While I was listening and nodding my head. I had three things in my mind:
How can someone be so passionate about a some clothing.
Why hasn't she mentioned anything about the Bride, Groom, or anything about the wedding
Finally why are the boutique people so evil, and hell bent on world domination. One Lehenga at a time.

For my second adventure. It started when I went over to meet my very old friend who was about to get married. As I was sitting at her house, she excitedly told me all the shopping she had done over the past few weeks. I felt fortunate that I did not have to accompany her in shopping, looking at the numerous number of bags that were lying around in her living area. To be truthful, I am like a blank slate when it comes to knowledge of marriage preparation. However, for my friend, marriage preparation was all about shopping stuff, which she will only wear once in a lifetime.

One by one, she started opening the packets. The bangles, followed by jewellery, some head and waist stuff (which I do not know what they are called) was placed on the table. There was so much stuff that it looked like she for prepping her for a war and not her wedding. I wondered how these brides are even able to walk properly with so much gear, sorry I mean beautiful accessories. 

Next, I had a blood red coloured lehenga, (which felt quite heavy) on my lap. In my curosity, I asked how much it weighs. To which she responds with twenty kilos. I was left dumbfounded, if you carry four of these, you will be carrying me in clothing form. I have a question: what are these things made from, Iron?

I was bored looking at the shiny things that I did not understand or cared, but that still did not mattered to her. She was still high from the drug called shopping. My eyes even started to wander towards the television on which some soap was running. By the looks of it, the soap had a bad actor with a beard with one single expression. He would stare at the camera as though he was brought to notice that he has to shave. 

After sometime, her mom brought a cup of tea for me. It was steaming hot, so I decided to let it cool a bit. Like any normal human being, I placed my cup on the table in front of me. As soon as my cup touched the table, my friend's screeching voice blew my eardrums. 'GET YOUR CUP OF THE TABLE!' Her nostrils were flaring so much that I could see her brain from where I was sitting. Apparently, I had placed my teacup next to her twenty-kilo lehenga. For any rational mind, there was a distance of one foot between the cup and lehenga. However, as I do not know how a soon-to-be-bride mind works. I suppose, to her I was placing my cup on the saree, and using it as a handkerchief.

So people, I have proof now that: Girls are crazy over their dresses. The craziest one is the bride-to-be, and I shit you not, but there is a hierarchy. Your craziness level is = to how closely you are related to the bride to be. Fun fact: When a man is about to get married, he just focuses all his energy into losing weight.