It was at the impressionable age of 19 that I got engaged to be married. I was shocked at myself and so were my friends in college. But I was floored by Ravi as soon as we met, and to my parents’ delight, agreed to marry him.
I was as juvenile as one could be at that age and took a foolish vow to get married in my favourite pair of Wrangler jeans. My mom obviously refused to listen to anything on this. My dad would indulge me and then throw his hands up in the air and declare that he could do nothing about it. That made me more defiant. The fun was in breaking the rules and going against tradition. I had made tall claims to my friends about it and that is the way it would be! Ravi humoured me by saying that he would marry me irrespective of what I wore.
During one shopping excursion I fell in love with a beautiful crystal studded bridal lehenga. My mom ignored my frail resistance and promptly bought it. The commitment to my jeans was weakening and my reputation was at stake. The determination turned into a dilemma. My brother was excited and even placed bets with my cousins and they eagerly awaited the drama.
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The big day finally arrived and I developed cold feet. My parents knew it all the while as I willingly dressed up in my wedding attire. But the jeans lying on the bed beckoned me. It was time to make my grand appearance.
I stepped out in my bridal finery. All my cousins rejoiced while my little brother looked betrayed. I glanced at him and winked and lifted my lehenga, just enough to give him a glimpse of the jeans I was wearing under it. He beamed with joy. I was happy that it made my naughty brother a little rich, I was happier that I could save face in front of my friends!
Even today, more than 20 years later, we break into side-splitting laughter every time we talk about it! And if you are wondering, yes, I still have that pair of jeans in my almirah.