Guide to hosting a Wedding!

My daughter got married a few months ago allowing me the distinct honor of joining the elite club of mothers-in-law.  Having watched many Indian TV soap operas that always cast a mother-in-law as a villainous being, I was naturally hesitant about stepping into that role but guess what?  TV is a far cry from reality because I feel no more like a villain than usual.  Six months ago, I had 2 children that I loved and now I have 3. 

Hosting my daughter's wedding was truly an education.  As this is the time for my annual self-evaluation to see if I still remember how to write, I came here today hoping to do that and also give a few helpful pointers to my friends who have just entered this fascinating arena of hosting an Indian wedding.

Dos and Don'ts of Wedding Planning:

1. Know that a spreadsheet is going to quickly become your new best friend. To those who ask why, how else are you planning to juggle the gazillion lists that will become the focal point of your life very soon?  The following is only a small sample of the lists that you will be making soon:

• Guest lists for the different wedding events
• Catering options
• Return gift options
• Party rental supplies
• Make up artists
• Deejay artists
• Guest accommodation
• Pre-wedding catering 

You don't really plan on winging it from memory, do you? I strongly recommend against that if your memory is anything like mine which is practically non-existent. I regularly walk away from cars without shutting down the engine, walk out the front door with a comb tucked in my hair and in my at-home slippers, return home from grocery trips without buying the groceries that I needed, frequently enter my classroom with a water bottle that holds no water and often record a 5 to 10 minute lesson for my students forgetting to hit the record button.  

I am afraid that the day is not far when I would need a bracelet with my name and address on it but since I was lucky enough to remember that I couldn't trust my memory with the wedding tasks, I made best friends with Microsoft Excel and got to work. By the time my daughter's wedding day came, I had a dozen workbooks forging ahead at full speed with a master list to keep track of every one of them.  This is the way.

2. Hold off on buying your wedding clothes until closer to the wedding.  This is super important. I wish someone had told me about this earlier.  I got carried away and bought my reception gown eight months ahead of time, long before finalizing the caterer.  Bad idea, especially if your dress was designed for a toothpick, by a dressmaker who thought it was a cardinal sin to let out a seam.  And don't forget that the pre-wedding week of rich and luscious Indian food mainly contain white rice, sugar and butter leading to extraordinary bloating conditions making buttoning your saree blouses an impressive task.  

You don't expect the mother of the bride to just randomly pick a caterer without tasting their food, do you?  I remember my wise mom once telling me that food was the thing that people would remember the most about a wedding and that we should take care with that.  I took her advice to heart, solemnly visiting multiple restaurants every weekend for 2 months tasting everything the caterers whipped up, sometimes at the expense of a seam ripping in my salwar suit.  I was only too happy to make this small sacrifice.  It was, after all, my burden to carry.  Two weeks before the wedding, when I was frantically running behind a seamstress begging her to somehow squeeze me into my dress, I admit to fleetingly questioning my mom's wisdom.  

3. Remember that functionality beats glamour when it comes to picking wedding shoes.  As the host of the wedding, you would need to put some miles on your shoes on your child's wedding day so choose wisely.  I didn't hence was left with bruising marks where the buckle of my fancy new shoes cut into my skin.  Yes, it was pretty but sadly no one saw its beauty because I discarded it within minutes of wearing and hobbled out in my comfy sandals instead.  

4. I strongly recommend that you make no new friends until after the wedding.  Putting all your existing friends on the guest list is hard enough.  A wedding invitation guest list is a tricky business in the US.  It is a balancing act worthy of an Olympic gymnast.  I never knew before about the rule that the bride and the groom should personally know all the guests who would come to the wedding.  I remember my Dad introducing many of his work friends to us at my wedding and I remember nodding at them with a smile without ever questioning why I had never met any of them before.  That was just the way.  

5. Help is all around you and you just need to ask for it.  If you are lucky like us, you will have a whole town willingly coming forward to help you with the wedding work.  I didn't realize how lucky we were until we were met by a tsunami-like huge wave of help from both a large and loving family and a town full of good friends.  I was especially moved by offers of help from those who didn't make it to our guest list.  It didn't seem to matter to them. They just wanted to help.  Such extraordinary acts of kindness should be met with an appropriate expression of gratitude but I was too dumbfounded by their kindness to express my appreciation well.  My pitiful attempts to say thank you fell flat and tiny even to my ears.  I won't ever take our good fortune in relationships for granted and hope to pay it forward somehow, in this lifetime. 

6. Remember to have fun and be okay if things don't exactly go as you had planned.  It is after all, your child's wedding.  Keep your smile so they can look at you and keep theirs.  

PS: Overcoming my mental block to writing gets harder each year.  I am super grateful that I managed to string some words together to make a blog post today, meeting my annual quota of posts. Wish you all a very happy holiday season and a wonderful New Year 2026!  

Walking with Meena!

I say this as someone who was born and raised in this colorful city for the first 2 decades of my life.  Walking in the streets of Chennai is no joke.  It has never been for the frail-hearted but it is more true today than ever before.   Taking a stroll on a suburban Chennai street alongside a procession of motorcycles, cars, auto-rickshaws, buses and school vans is a challenge that requires supreme navigation skills.  After landing in Chennai for my recent trip, I learned to my dismay that I no longer have that skill.  

If you expect the vehicles to stop and let you cross a street just because you are at a pedestrian crossing, expect to watch the day turn to dusk and still be there.  You might as well have Gandalf thumping his staff on the street bellowing 'Thou shall not pass' (for reference, watch the movie The Lord of the Rings).  So then, how does one cross a busy road in Chennai?  Making eye contact with the drivers to stare them down and then bulling your way through the onslaught of traffic is the only winning technique, as far as I know.  I admit that having been away from India for too long now, I no longer possess this ability to casually cross the street deftly navigating the rushing traffic from both sides.  I used to be very good at it but these days, I am reduced to clutching my baby sister's hands and blindly following her lead to get to the other side. Shameful? Yes indeed but I do get a kick out of reaching the other side with my limbs intact.  I am quirky that way.

Not only are Chennai's streets crowded, they are also incredibly boisterous..  That is because most drivers in this city communicate through their honking.  Even in parking-lot like traffic conditions where cars are stacked for miles ahead, you will be treated to a symphony of honking sounds from all directions.  These honks are invariably followed by some of the choicest, if not creative language, hurled by angry drivers at the cars ahead.  Where do they expect the vehicle in front of them to go when the entire city block is stuck in traffic?  Once I figure it out, you will be the first to know. 

In addition to the vehicles, I found myself  sharing the streets with a handful of cows that liked to lazily munch on the previous day's produce discarded by the vegetable vendors at street corners and a horde of street dogs that are always out and about, ready to defend their territory against intruding visitors.  If you are going to be startled every time a cow's tail brushes you or a dog bares its teeth at you or a truck speeds past you barely avoiding running over your feet, then you are not adequately prepared for your stay in this beautiful city.

If you are visiting the city after a long break like me, you are also unaware that the city's streets have fallen victim to the construction project of the Metro Rail and closely resemble a plate of  'Kothu paraatta' wherever you turn.  Patches of ground have been dug up and left on a proud display for the public everywhere.  A store that is less than 5 minutes by walk according to Google Maps takes an hour to go by car, as most streets have now been declared one-way and one has to creatively pretzel their way to their destination. 

Has this put a stop to the furious pace of life in this city?  Don't be silly.  Signs splashed across the city that claim 'Inconvenient today for a better tomorrow' have more than done their part in helping people move on with their lives without complaining.  After all, they have been sufficiently warned that it will be inconvenient.  These past 2 weeks, I have watched, in awe, all the people hopping and skirting around the many holes in the streets to go about their daily work with ease and stoic resignation.  No amount of inconvenience seem to deter the Chennaites' love of life.  "Bring it on" seemed to be the motto of folks here. Adaptability honed to perfection, I would say. 

Coming back to walking with Meena, after years of vegetating on the couch, I finally decided to sign up for a 10K walking program that started just before I left for my India trip.  The walk is only in April but apparently, one must train intensely to make this 10K walk.  I chuckled loudly when I first heard this.  Of course, I know how to walk, silly.  It is true that I don't do it often but that doesn't mean that I need training for it, right?  Wrong, said all the folks who are seasoned runners and walkers in the RHWB network.  I am now part of this amazing group and even have a dedicated coach who gives me weekly walking schedules, monitors my exercise data and keeps me going.  It is really great except that I had to start off my program with a schedule to brisk walk 7 to 8 miles on Chennai roads each week.  Oh boy!  

I will have you know that losing heart is not something folks out here do.  I may be a US Citizen today but Chennai is wired into me so I put my brain, the only thing that works reasonably well most of the time in my whole body, to work and quickly eliminated the streets of Chennai from the potential list of places to walk.  After all, how brisk can I walk if I had to constantly skirt around construction areas, cows, dogs and cars?  My sister's family suggested an alternative and thanks to them, I found a park within 2 blocks of my sister's place that had a nice walking trail and zoomed in on that as my walking space.  

I set out each morning at dawn, with a slight breeze flirting with my unruly hair, to this pretty park where toddlers came to play on the swing, seniors came to catch up with their friends sitting on the benches, college kids came to weight train together, parents brought their little ones to skate in the newly built skating ring and where I went to train for my very first 10K walk.  Most days, I could hear the faint whistle of pressure cookers from the apartments nearby where mothers had already started to cook breakfast and pack lunch boxes for the children.  

I chose not to take my phone along to listen to music during my walks in India. That's because I wanted to use the opportunity to observe life pulsing all around me and absorb the sounds and smells of my beloved hometown to bring back with me after my trip.  I even made friends with 2 small puppies that managed to slip through the gates of the park every day to romp around on the grassy area.  That park was a melting pot of all the things that I love about Chennai and I am incredibly grateful to have started my training right there.  

A huge shoutout to the head coach Bala of the RHWB network for giving me an opportunity to get off my favorite couch and go for a walk every week.  Also, thankful to my personal coach Nay for being super positive and encouraging all of us to do our best.  It was just an added bonus to sign up for this 10K with 2 of my best friends.  Would you like to walk too?  Find RHWB on FB and Instagram to get updates on their next season's schedule.  

Take it from someone who has blindly resisted every attempt to get fit for many years.  Life outside the couch is pretty great too.  Go ahead and give it a shot. 

Goodbye Amma & Appa!

 

Dun, dun, dun.... That was the sound of someone banging on the heavy metal gate in the front.  I looked up at the daily calendar and the clock on the wall to confirm that it was Tuesday 8 AM.  I was almost ready to leave for school.  I rushed to the Kitchen calling out "Amma, he is here."  Amma was busy seasoning the sambar on one stove and stir-frying green beans curry on the other.  "It is almost ready.  Ask him to come inside into the shade Meena.  I will be there soon."  

I went outside to greet the old Thatha who was our guest every Tuesday for as long as I could remember and invited him to come and sit.  He hobbled in slowly and lowered himself onto the bench in the shade.  Poverty sat on him like a worn-out comfortable shirt and I remember him always wearing it with a contended smile.  'Tuesday beggar Thatha' as I referred to him, was a steady and comforting part of my childhood.  Thatha always appeared at our door at 8 am sharp every Tuesday and my mom always served him a hearty hot meal on a banana leaf with a big glass of cool buttermilk and a banana on the side.  Governments could fall and rise on a whim but Thatha's Tuesday visit and my mother's hospitality continued for years like clockwork and left a lasting impression on me.

This week, my mother drew her last breath.  I stood by her bed with my sisters, held her hand and bid her goodbye singing her favorite hymns.  As I watched her being carried out of the house for the final rites,  I thought of her kindness towards the Tuesday Thatha and the very many people like him whose lives were made better by her.  

My mother had the unique gift to connect with people around her.  She genuinely cared about everyone's lives and wished them well.  During our many walks to the local temple during my school days, people would stop her often on the street to share their problems and seek her counsel.  They could tell her anything because they knew that she would keep their secrets.  I have always been amazed by her talent at nodding.  Her head never tired of the long hours of bobbing up and down listening to others' woes.  It seemed to bring such comfort to people.

Daughter not getting married?  In-law troubles? Rash in areas that shall not be named?  Asking my mom to pray for them seemed to be the one-stop solution for many folks.  There was an unanimous consensus in the neighborhood that the optimal way to reach God's ears was through my mother's lips.  Folks were ahead of their times as outsourcing was actively practiced by our neighbors long before the word ever got popular.  

No one entered our home and left with an empty stomach.  It was just not done.  On a normal day without visitors, my mother cooked 3 times a day for 10 people.  That was just family, mind you.  We were a bunch of picky eaters and I was the worst of all.  I got hungry really fast and threw the most colorful of all fits if I was not fed right that minute.  I don't know how my mom did not disown me for being such a thoughtless brat.  I would have done it in a heartbeat.  She always had my favorite food hot and ready anytime I came home, be it 5 pm after college or 10 pm after work.  It might be a while before I could swallow tomato rice or vathal kuzhambu sadham without breaking into tears.  

Outside of family, we had a constant stream of visitors at home while growing up.  I remember her finally wrapping up things in the Kitchen around 3 pm one day to go rest before the evening chores started when visitors dropped in unannounced.  Did she sigh and scowl like I probably would have?  No.  She greeted them with a big genuine smile and went back promptly to the Kitchen to whip up the next batch of food to feed them.  Her famed hospitality continued even when she was sick and frail in bed at the end.  When family members dropped in to check on her health, she called us closer with a weak headshake and reminded us to feed them before they left.  

Talking about being in bed, 10 days before her passing, she was on oxygen support and had trouble speaking clearly.  My sisters and I decided to take advantage of having a captive audience and practiced all the songs we were meaning to knowing very well that amma couldn't run away even if she wanted to.  After one such singing session, she slowly opened her eyes and muttered something.  As it was hard to hear her over the oxygen mask, I went closer to her and tried to listen.  Still I couldn't make out what she was saying.  'Amma, what is it?  Do you want us to sing you another song?'  To which, amma slowly enunciated "Meena, put coconut oil on your hair and braid it.  It is not like you have long hair.  Take care to keep what you have."  It took considerable effort for her to say it but that is my mother for you.  Always caring like that. 

Losing Amma 2 months after losing Appa, life feels strangely illogical.  The 2 souls that loved my sisters and I without hesitation or reservation are no more.  Navigating the rest of our journey without their physical presence seems like an impossible task but we have no choice but to try.  We were loved and cherished every moment of our lives and I am so very grateful to both of them. 

Hope you are together again on the other side with the rest of your family having a blast up in the Heavens.  Love you both so much.  We will see you in our dreams. Goodbye Amma and Appa!