‘Wedding invite?!’ I forgot to feed myself the spoonful of dal when husband bursted the bomb on the dining table.
‘Yes, next week. He was in the same team in my last project,’ he replied after swallowing the piece of chapati.
A wedding is the best place in the world to display wardrobe. I felt excited. After all,I was going to attend a wedding in Singapore for the first time. But my excitement was short-lived.
‘He is marrying a Chinese,’ husband said.
‘Really? Is it a church wedding?’ I asked dreading if I have any suitable dress for such type of wedding.
‘Not sure,’ he shrugged. ‘They have invited for the reception.I will forward you the wedding invite.’
Even before properly reading the names of the bride and groom, I went straight to the section which concerned me the most- DRESS CODE. To my relief, it said ‘TRADITIONAL INDIAN OR WESTERN ATTIRE’. In my mind, I started tossing every piece of traditional clothing out of my wardrobe, but found nothing worth wearing for the occasion.
‘I don’t have anything to wear….’ I made the statement which every woman on this earth says at least once in the lifetime standing in front of her clothes stuffed wardrobe.
Creases appeared on husband’s forehead after hearing my shocking revelation.
‘I don’t have any suitable traditional dress to wear,’ I clarified.
‘You can wear a western attire,’ he reminded me what was written on the wedding invite.
‘But I am not comfortable wearing western dress in a wedding. Let’s go shopping this weekend,’ I conveyed my final decision.
Written for Incredible Blogger Marathon Challenge #02
‘We will go to the Fab India store at first,’ I said as husband nodded his head and tied his shoe laces marking the beginning of a store hopping Sunday.
The dress I was looking for had to be well fitted, must be sober in colour yet gorgeous yet elegant yet comfortable and yet affordable. When one has so many YETs in the check list, then shopping becomes a daunting task. Husband didn’t mind burning a hole in his pocket. But as a responsible wife, I preferred to bring a sprain in his ankle rather than spending extra bucks in Fab India.
After a tour of various stores in Little India and Rochor, I was almost on the verge of picking a serious fight with husband out of frustration. There was a small store on other side of the road. I stepped inside it without expecting any success. But destiny had it’s own plans. Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the store with a blue packet containing a ‘gorgeous yet elegant yet comfortable and yet affordable’ kurti and a matching leggings and dupatta. I was all set for the wedding.
‘Don’t you think, the colour is too loud?’ I hanged the kurti in front of husband’s nose, merely two hours before we were supposed to start for the party.
‘It’s very nice,’ he replied with his eyes glued on the laptop.
‘Look, I don’t want to be the odd one out there. Chinese always wear elegant dresses.’
‘You can wear a western attire,’ he repeated without realising the sensitivity of the situation.
I looked at the kurti in dismay. The sober pink kurti which I saw under that store’s tube light had turned into a different exciting colour in broad daylight.
‘How can I wear something like this?’ I threw the dress on the bed and opened my wardrobe again.
After imagining myself in that pink kurti all the week, I sat inside the cab in a violet coloured one(shoved in one corner of my wardrobe) for the wedding invite. The party went fine and nobody bothered what colour I was wearing as invitees came in exuberant colours. Little did they know how much dilemma one of the fellow attendees had gone through since she received the wedding invite.
The snap in this post was taken after we returned from the party.