Andaleeb Wajid - My Brother’s Wedding

Andaleeb Wajid is the author of Kite Strings, Blinkers Off and More than Just Biryani. Her stories have been published in Good Housekeeping and she has written extensively for the children's supplement of Deccan Herald, 'Open Sesame'. Andaleeb worked as a technical writer and then did a stint in corporate communications before she quit to concentrate on a full-time writing career. Shelives in Bengaluru with her family.

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For my sons, Saboor and Azhaan

Ooh la la! Its my brothers wedding. As if I care.

POSTED BY THE OTHER T, 01-01-12

My brother is getting married finally. No, no, its not what it sounds like. The thing is, my sister and my mother had a most harrowing time trying to find a suitable girl for him. Yes, my brother Y, the hugely successful software engineer who turned all of twenty-seven last month, is depending on my mother and my sister to find a girl for him. As if that wasnt enough, he wont be meeting her until after theyre married, although I suppose hes feeling lucky that Q (my sister) snapped a quick picture on her iPhone for him when they went to see her.

I started this blog as a way to rant at everyone in my family who is making my life hell, just because my brother is getting married. At times I think that if I had been a student living abroad, I wouldnt have bothered calling home unless I wanted to and I would have been pretty happy. But no, Im nineteen, and I live right here in India with my family, trying to figure out Chaucer and Milton and pondering over my research paper when I am ambushed by my mother.

Ever since Q got married, she likes to come into my room, stare into space and rattle out random facts which she thinks I ought to remember. My poor mother misses Q a lot. They were/are like soul sisters. Completing each others sentences and going shopping together and all that crap.

This blog is about my brothers wedding. Im going to try and make it very entertaining as I plan to describe everything that happens in a typical Muslim wedding in detail. But Im not using real names. There will be revenge, disownment and quick annihilation if the roots of this blog are ever traced to me. Of course, its the revenge Im worried about the most, especially if it comes from Q. So, Ive decided to use the letters of the alphabet as initials of real people and, of course, it wont be their actual initials. That would be too easy to guess and would defeat the very purpose of this blog.

The wedding date has been set for June with an engagement in March and I am already fed up of people talking about it. Its all everyone does these days. Theyre excited about Ys wedding because there hasnt been a wedding in the family for a couple of years now. Theres so much eye-rolling I do these days that it seems the expression of exasperation will become a permanent feature of my face. Despite all that, there have been a lot of interesting things happening at home, especially in these past few days.

Like the time when my mother and sister went to see the first girl for my brother.

Step aside. I need the mirror, Rabia said calmly as she applied mascara with skilful strokes of the brush.

But you have a mirror! In your own room! Saba said even though it was completely futile to argue with her sister. She moved away from the mirror where shed been trying to squeeze out another blackhead that had popped up on her nose.

The light here is better, Rabia murmured and then dusted her eyelids with eye shadow. With a quick sweep of a thin brush she drew a line close to her eyelashes which made her look exotic and diva-like instantly. Saba tried not to look at her enviously.

Ammi had been calling out to her for the last ten minutes but that hadnt deterred Rabia. With a last touch of gloss at the centre of her lips, she stepped back to see her image in the mirror. Finally, with a sigh, she covered her hair with a rich and glossy brown scarf, wrapping it around her head until it resembled a perched birds nest at the back of her head. The effect was amazing.

Finally, Ammi came and stood at the door of Sabas room.

Are you ready yet? she asked, taking in Rabias appearance. Rabia nodded and slipped her feet into a pair of high heels.

Done, she said smiling elegantly at her mother who looked flustered. There were times her mother couldnt imagine how she had given birth to this sophisticated creature who walked into a room, bringing with her a startling cloud of Dune perfume, looking as though she owned the room and everybody inside it. This was one of those times.

Come, lets go.

As an afterthought their mother turned to her and said, Saba, dont forget to make tea for your father. I know youre busy studying (at which her sister rolled her eyes), but you know he likes to have his tea at five in the evening.

Abbus not going? Saba asked, confused momentarily. Surely Rabia wouldnt drive them down there? She was an atrocious driver. Dogs ran in the opposite direction when they saw her at the wheel and she was known for making sudden swerves like a lunatic. Her husband had already had to replace two cars because of her enthusiasm. Actually, Rabia just loved to sit at the wheel and look stunning. Saba always felt that Rabia walked around thinking that there were invisible fashion photographers clicking pictures of her every angle and profile.

No, Ive invited Shahid to drive us down there today. Hes coming with his mother now. I dont know why your father wont hire a driver like others, Ammi said, walking away looking distracted.

Why Shahid, mom? Rabia asked, sounding distressed as they made their way towards the hall. Everyone knew that the two of them couldnt stand each other. Shahid was Abbus cousins son and he was a couple of years younger than Rabia. Ammi and his mother had hit it off really well when Ammi had got married to Abbu and they used to joke that they would get their kids married to each other. Thankfully that had not happened. Shahid and Rabia would have simply killed each other.