The Wedding Planner's Wedding

Smita looked around her, encaptivated. The stage was beautifully decorated with colorful flowers aligned in a perfect diamond shaped design. Exactly like what she had asked for. The chairs were set in rows behind the soft velvety sofas for the family. There were girls dressed in smart navy blue saris with red zaried border, carrying plates with starters and juices for the guests as they waited for the wedding ceremony to begin.

Smita was a wedding planner by profession. But this was her own wedding. Her hands were coloured a deep brown with the fresh and delicately designed mehndi. And her mother had insisted that she would have nothing to do with the planning. The entire event was given on contract to another wedding planner.

Her mother’s words came back to her mind. ‘You have to be fresh and without worries on your wedding day. I don’t want you to be running around arranging this and doing that and checking whether everything is perfect.’

Smita comforted herself that this particular wedding planner chosen by her mother was a good one.

Everyone was eagerly looking out for the welcome sight of the baraat. She could hear the rhythmic beat of the drums and doles. Anytime now the dancing members of Vinod’s family would be here. Her mind visualized her handsome fiance`, face covered with the flowers after the sehra bandi ceremony, and riding a white stallion coming towards the venue.

Just then her mother noticed her.

Hey Smita,” she called. “Go to your room, you are not supposed to be here now.”

Smita was fully dressed in bridal finery and gingerly walked towards the room. Her friend Lara ran to accompany her. Knowing that Smita wanted to see the baraat and her beloved Vinod, Lara pulled the curtain overlooking the road. Smita could see the baraat approaching and the joyous dancing of the men and women. Then she saw her parents performing the customary welcoming of the baraat.

Her aunt came to take her to the wedding hall. Holding on to Lara, Smita entered and at once she became the cynosure of all eyes at the venue.

Never one to be shy, she walked happily to the centre stage.

By force of habit, she glanced around to see if everything was in place. Something seemed to be missing.

‘Oh my God’ she thought. ‘The garlands are not to be seen.’

She almost got up but her mother’s censuring glance made her sit down again. She gestured to Lara, but the girl was busy talking and welcoming her college friends.

She got fidgety. Sensing her discomfiture, Vinod placed his hand on hers and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“The garlands are not there,” she whispered back.

“Look over there,” he gestured to a man walking in with the garlands in his hands at that very moment.

“Forget the arrangements, and enjoy the moment,” said Vinod, as he chuckled with amusement. “This is a wedding planner’s wedding!”

Smita recognised the humour in the situation and smiled in return.

Her mother was right. It was another wedding planner who was in charge, not her. He would take care of everything and every situation. And she gave herself up to enjoy her own wedding.

Yes! She owed it to herself and Vinod and their parents too.