We have had roaring wedding bells at Cherry Cross, for our Chief Harvester (that would be me) and the Geek In-Charge officially tied the marital knot, after almost two and a half years of courtship.
Pre-Event:
I do not exaggerate a bit when I say that I almost called it off, considered eloping (both alone and with him) and committing ruthless murders during the preparations. As the bride and groom are the communication bridges between two families, we had quite a bit of lag, miscommunications and frustrated moments. On top of that, vendors failing us (primarily tailors) had me pulling my hair out. And boy, the intensity with which I hated shopping after the first week! Malls and Markets had me cringing, choosing cloth and frills made me want to puke and more. 
But here’s the secret that got me through it all: Him, him and my parents.
The first Him was always there for me. Whenever I broke down, made a blunder or was ecstatic, He was there, by me. Knowing so and deriving strength from this knowledge pulled me through a lot of rough spots.
The second “him” (read: my man) made all kinds of efforts to see me EVERYDAY! By the time our respective days ended, we were beat. Yet, he would take out time, drive to my place (usually with a surprise gift) and talk to me. Ladies reading this would understand the impact this gesture had on me, and our relationship. Men, on the other hand, can learn.
When you are getting married, your parents go super-emo by default. They are happy, sad, anxious, frustrated, and sometime all of it together. But they support you, dish out valuable advices and keep you composed while groping for composure themselves.
THE Event:
It was a blur – like you are in a car that’s speeding by real fast. You feel the high but cannot retain much of the scenery. I remember:

 

  • Rushing to the salon a day before Mehndi (heena) was applied, where I was pulled, pushed, burned and frozen on the excuse of “Beautification”
  • Sitting for hours while a woman put a ton (yes, I am exaggerating) of Mehndi on my hands and feet
  • Pushing my girl friends to get off their a**es and dance
  • Almost drowning in tears when the Mayoun makeup didn’t turn out as I had envisioned, fixing it a zillion times and then posing for pictures the whole evening (oh and being laden with yellow flowers)
  • My colleagues coming in after the lights were put out, music system ported out and photographer said goodbye
  • The anxiety when I got in to my wedding dress and sat down for makeup –I was certain I will look like a Punjabi aunty (no offense to anyone)
  • Loving the eye makeup and deep red lip color on myself (done by Altaf at Altaf Salon)
  • Hating the hair – and fidgeting with it till I reached the wedding reception’s venue
  • Nikkah – it made it all oh-so-real!
  • Groom’s tragedy – car broke down, and some more incidents (meant to be kept shush)
  • Holding back tears during Rukhsaati and shedding them shamelessly on the way to my new home
  • My best friend (German) by my side – through and through
  • Amreen’s unconditional support at the 11th hour
  • Lack of present by my bestie and colleagues (hmph)
  • My parents and sisters running around, making sure everything was “fine”

Post Event:
I am Mrs. Shaheen Nouman Zakir now (giggles). Many a times, in the last few days, I have turned to Nouman and exclaimed “we are actually married! Can you believe it?” He always gives me a loving look that makes me swoon and says something creatively romantic. 
My in-laws are a blessing; non-nosy, loving and respectful.
We went on a quick honeymoon, with a promise for a more lavish one in a few months. And now am occupied with dawa’ats (dinner invites from family) and work.
It’s one hell of a life, my single friends; get on the band wagon as soon as possible.
(P.S. Here’s a shout out to Mom, Dad, Nouman, Good, Chotu, Bobby, German, Maaji and Shakila for making it all so wonderful for me. Love you guys to bit *muah*)