Tag Archives: wedding

Caper

Grandson H on graduation day (pencil marked)

The little boys capered on our front lawn. Grandson H who was four at the time was blissfully welcoming more inside the gates. We– late husband, and I, Son and his family had come to spend a night at our village home, and attend a wedding next day.

Cloistered in our Peshawar house, H never had so many boys to play with. H soon exhausted our supply of water bottles, juices and soft drinks. He was happily playing the host, not realizing there wasn’t any water left for us.

Along with the younger children, an older batch of eleven to fourteen had slipped inside. They attacked the fruit trees of apricots, peaches, leeches, loquats and the ground beneath was littered with leaves and fruit. Thankfully the watchman returned from his home, and shooed the unruly ones out, and saved the trees from further plundering.

In the evening H had to be persuaded to let his newfound friends go. He was all for his friends to spend the night with us.

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Caper

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Sail


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My late husband was stationed at Rajshahi. He came on a fifteen days leave for our wedding. After the plane hop from Lahore to Dacca, we kept changing boats. I felt sick all the way. I had the re current thought at intervals,  and wondered when my ordeal was going to be over?
I couldn’t eat. Everything was different, the taste wasn’t one I was used to. The smell of water was abhoring. It was sickening. I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn’t say anything to my husband. 

Who knew that I would be sailing all the way to Rajshshi?

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Sail

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Exposed


Photo Credit: Google

My marriage was an arranged one. I had never met the members of my late husband’s family, except for mother in law, and one sister in law. My marriage took place from my uncle’s home, as he was my guardian after father’s death. Uncle had arranged for their stay in an adjoining rest house. The in-laws had come from Charsadda, where as my husband to be flew directly from Rajshahi, as he was stationed there.

It was about 4am after the wedding night. I had come out from the bathroom, and was going to lie down, and catch further sleep, when the bedroom door opened, and the in laws entered unannounced into the bedroom. I was caught in my pjs. I felt exposed meeting my in laws that way without an attire of qameez shalwar ensemble, and without a dopatta covering my head.

No one had told me that they would be leaving the next day, or I was expected to meet them so early in the morning, otherwise I would have been more, or less prepared.

My brothers in law, one by one started with shaking my hand, while the sisters in law hugged, and kissed my cheeks. As suddenly as they had come, they waved goodbye, and left.

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Exposed

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Translate

My father had remarried— not to the girl, grandma had chosen, but to a widow with four children. Grandma got wind of it. There she was planning to get her niece wedded to father, and father had dashed all her hopes to the ground.

Unannounced she managed to reach Rawalpindi, where we lived,  from our ancestral home in the village. She rarely travelled, and the farthest she went from home was Charsadda. Father didn’t know where to hide from the fury of his mother, and he took refuge sitting in his car in the garage.

Stepmom spoke Urdu, and grandma could only talk in Pushto. Neither was making head, or tail of what they were telling each other. Unfortunately grandma espied me as I came out of my room searching for God knows what. She took hold of my hand, and almost dragged me to sit between the two foes. It looked like I had to translate whatever they were saying to each other.

Grandma was saying, “why did you get married to my son? Couldn’t you stay on your own?”

Stepmom said she was having problems, and needed a husband to take care of things. Grandma was asking why her son? Couldn’t she get someone else?

This went for a while, and grandma started cursing. Poor me! I was frightened, fearing they might come to blows. Grandma was intelligent enough to know that I wasn’t exactly translating what she was saying. The moment had come for me to make a dash for my room, and bolt it from inside.

I don’t know what happened later after I left them. Grandma departed in the evening –sad, and disappointed to her home.

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Invitation 

I’m happy to get an invitation to a party, wedding or a get together. The day arrives, my enthusiasm has worn off, and on the actual day I wish I didn’t have to attend the event. Once I actually forgot an invite, and realized it a day later on. To take care that doesn’t happen again I post a reminder to myself.

Yesterday my late husband’s first cousin came. Her son is getting married. She wanted me to attend the three days activities. Just thinking of three days festivities felt tiring, so I said yes to one day only, and that is the day of the wedding. 

It’s cold, and with no electricity, or gas, it’s simply hell staying in our village. After spending two days, and nights at my village home, I am back in Peshawar. It feels like heaven to have heating. In the village with no electricity the water was simply freezing. The bed was ice cold, and even changing to wear pajamas to bed was a chore I dreaded. Trying to get my back warmed up I would lie straight all night, but it didn’t help.

The wedding is on Saturday. Thinking of spending a night in the village home looks like a nightmare in this cold, and rainy weather. 

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Invitation

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Interior 


Recently we (my daughter, her family and I) attended a wedding in Lahore. I should have taken a photo of the exterior of the wedding hall, but I didn’t. It was magnificent, and so was the interior. I feel so sorry for not taking a picture. I should have. I’m annoyed with myself for missing opportunities.

We went there early before the other guests arrived, and were the first to be there after the host, and his family. It was a co-incidence that the bride, and the wedding hall’s names were the same. 



The last photo is of the stage set for the bride, and the groom.

This was the only wedding in which there were two stages — one in the men’s section (you can see it in the photo on top), and another one in the women’s section of the hall. The planners thought that the groom would grace the stage in the men’s section first, and later when the bride arrived, he would join her. But that didn’t happen. 

The groom came to the women’s section, and sat on stage waiting for his bride. He never went to the other stage set for him only. The bride was extra ordinary pretty. 

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Interior

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Festive


Wish you a Merry Christmas 

Sorry I was traveling, and with no internet I couldn’t write.

The above picture is of the Walima (the second day of the wedding) of Nola’s sister-in-law, which was held at Islamabad. We left in the evening for Lahore, missing the Mehndi  function of another wedding. 

We are going sight seeing in the morning, and will attend another wedding in the evening.

We are having our own festivities this season.

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Festive

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