Skip to main content

My Second Wedding

Back in 2005, I had an arranged-love marriage. We did the whole 3 day Jewelry-food-makeup-million guests thing.  and I was a delighted 22-year-old, madly in love and so happy to be having my dream wedding.My husband however was less than pleased. He has been raised outside India so a lot of the customs and rituals didn’t hold the same allure for him. Plus, he felt the whole thing was more about the elders and Pandits than the two of us. 

Last year, we were in Las Vegas for a week, with our two kids. One morning, I’m fixing breakfast in my yoga pants, when there’s a knock on the hotel room door. I open the door to see a large man dressed exactly like Michael Jackson (yes that Michael Jackson). Obviously some manner of performer and this being Vegas, I shrug and tell him he’s probably got the wrong room.
He looks me up and down (my Yoga pants and crazy hair) and asks in a curiously soft voice, “Mrs. Raman?” 
I nod, surprised. 
“Well, this is exactly the right room then!” With that, he pushes past me and starts setting up flowers and candles on the breakfast table.

10 minutes and lots of humming later, he’s finished. A beautiful little floral arrangement with rose candles lit in aesthetically pleasing rows. The kids are curious (Is it your birthday, Amma?” and “Wow, can I blow the candles, Amma?”)  I’m confused, but enjoy the bizarreness of the whole thing. Michael Jackson looks over at me and gesticulates wildly. 
Understanding dawns. I quickly put on some lipstick and run a brush through my hair. Change from Yoga pants to Fancier Yoga pants. When I come out, the kids are sitting on the couch, agog and breathless. 
And next to Mr. Jackson, stands my husband, wearing his best shirt and holding a small bouquet of roses. He’s planned this to a T and looks proud as a peach. Dropping to one knee, he brings out a beautiful ring. This amazes my daughter and in her excitement announces she needs to pee. 
We resume the ceremony 5 minutes later. I wipe big tears away, while Mr.Jackson sings us a love song. My husband reads out his vows along with a beautiful Native American Poem about love and commitment. The kids hug my feet, and someone trips over and falls. I don’t know what to say because my heart is so full. 
Mr.Jackson asks me if I, Pavi Raman take the tall and wonderful Mr.Raghav Raman to be my husband. 
Standing there surrounded by my little family, in a room that faintly smells of Pancakes and Jam, I finally find words.
“Yes. Yes, I do,”.
So to answer your question, I did have a wedding on a shoestring Budget.
Minimal makeup (one coat of Smashbox Lipstick+one line of Kohl), 3 guests (kids + Mr. Jackson) and I got married again to the Love of My Life.
 And this time, it was just Perfect.




Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Pocket of happiness.

This past week, our house underwent some fumigation and so we spent 8ish days at our in-laws’  cottage in Monterey, California. For those unfamiliar with that part of the world, Monterey and its surrounding towns are right next to the Pacific Ocean. Miles of beautiful, unspoiled beaches, not too touristy and of course the world-famous Monterey Bay Aquarium. The weather is never too hot; the beaches are set against a backdrop of lush hills and the sand is always perfect. My idea of heaven on earth. The kids had lots of fun, but because of a sudden increase in downtime (no school) they started having bouts of “I’m so bored/I love the Ocean/I hate the Ocean/I’m angry for no reason”. Typical younger child behavior and something I’d expected would happen. They both thrive on structure, so we tried to keep things as streamlined and predictable as possible.   Of course, my Zen, earth-mother mood didn’t last too long. Between the cooking and cleaning...

Soul sister.

It’s past midnight. You’re in bed with your thoughts.   Limbs achy and heart heavy with worries.   Of course, you feel that way, you’re a mother.   You wish you had someone to talk to. Someone to breathe in sync with. Someone who’ll nod at the right places and tell you, you’re doing your best. Your husband is snoring away, the kids are sleeping and no one awake for miles around. You contemplate calling your mother/sister/bestie. But you don’t. You just lie there in bed, feeling small and lonely and not sure why everything hurts so damn much. But you’re actually forgetting someone who has been there all along. She’s watching, listening, making sure you’re still breathing. She loves you more than anyone else, even though she never tells you that. She’s your staunchest ally but can also feel like your worst enemy.   Talk to her. Tell her you’re scared. Show her you’re hurt. She’ll hug you. Maybe yell at you a bit. Even completely distract you and talk about Ra...

I was entirely indifferent to the news of his death

I put down the eye liner and studied my reflection in the mirror. Too much mascara? Grandma always told me I had the prettiest eyes. Smiling, I pulled my hair into a loose braid. Where was my lucky pebble? Oh there. Now I was ready. My parents were in the kitchen. I peeked at them, searching for the slightest trace of anger, that flicker of grief. But all I saw was two middle-aged people, with rather kind faces. Worried about their daughter, hoping she’ll be fine. “Avery, honey,” my mom began, “I know this is scary, but we’re with you. Every step of the way.”  “Yes, kiddo. Your mom and I will be in that waiting room the whole time. Dr. Matheson is the best. He’s even published a pape-” “Brian, don’t stress her out. Not on the day of the procedure,”. “Karen, I’m just giving her informatio -” “Shush, now. Let her breathe for a second.” Dad rolled his eyes, behind mom’s back. I smiled, terrified inside, but still thankful for the banter.  ...