Kishore Singh: Double trouble

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About 20 years ago, when a friend of mine was to marry, the pundits stalled the proceedings somewhat by saying his horoscope predicted two marriages for him, at which his fiancée balked, but the confusion was amicably resolved when he agreed to a "first" marriage with a terracotta pot. After the vows were over, he murdered his "wife", smashing the pot on the ground, leaving him free to marry "again" .

But this week, when a friend's son got married all over again, it wasn't because the priests suggested it. The first wedding had taken place in distant Ozland, in the presence of both sets of parents, complete with all the rituals one might have expected back home. In due course, they came back to visit, and much was made of them, the way one does of newly-weds.

It was, therefore, a surprise when the groom's mother called to say, "Keep your Christmas weekend free for my son's wedding functions." "Do they have another son?" I asked my wife in some surprise, but of course that wasn't the case. "It's just that everyone missed a large nuptial party, so they're organising a large bash," she explained, "Oh, so it's just a reception for their friends and family in Delhi," I said.

"I suppose you could say so," said my wife, "but here's a card for," she glanced through the invitation card, "a temple ceremony a couple of days before the wedding." "That's sweet," I said, for I was touched they should thank the gods before the big banquet. "Then," said my wife, who was clearly not through, "a casual party, or sangeet, with a DJ." "Wow," I said, "that's just like a real wedding." "You bet," said my wife, "because there's mehndi the next day, and then the wedding where you're invited to be part of the barat." You mean," I exclaimed, "they're actually getting married all over again?" "Sure seems so," she grinned.

As the days neared, my daughter and her friends were invited to learn how to dance at the wedding ceremonies by a professional choreographer. Excitement built up in anticipation of the wedding, visits to tailors were undertaken, swatches of fabrics matched, fittings organised, the beauty salon booked for hair and face makeovers. Since I was excluded, like most men, from much of this twitter, I queried: "Aren't you making too big a deal of this wedding-shedding business?" My wife looked at me reproachfully, "It's very romantic, but I doubt you would understand anyway."

"I'm sure I can be as sensitive as anyone else," I remonstrated, "but why a second wedding?" "Imagine repeating all the ceremonies and rituals," my wife sighed, "isn't that doubly as nice?" "I don't know," I hesitated, "but if you like, we could get married again." "I hardly think so," she retorted, "because you'd only hurt me all over again." "And how would I do that?" I asked.

"Take these two," she said of the twice-over bride and groom, "they're repeating all their rituals a second time over." "True," I agreed. "Including," said my wife emphatically, "going on a honeymoon." "No, really," I laughed, "you mean they're really having a second honeymoon." She nodded. "Well, I don't know," I hesitated, "I mean, it seems kind of silly, doesn't it, to go on a honeymoon after you've been on one, and have been married for a year in any case?"

"I knew you'd say that," sighed my wife, "which is why I don't want to get married to you again." "Really," I complained, "I cannot see any co-relation between the two." "Oh, I'm sure you can't," she snapped, "because if you didn't take me for a honeymoon when we first got married, it's unlikely I'll get to go on one if we marry again."