Legally Binded pt 2: Return of the Couple.

On October 31^st, 2009. I got married at the church. Of course, it didn’t begin smoothly as it should no thanks to my punctuality conscious family. Sharp 3pm I was suppose to leave my apartment with the best man who lived a door away from my apartment. When I went there, with my suit on, overnight bag slung over my shoulder, there he was, all six foot of him, topless with a rack of ties, looking as blurry as a mole asking:

“Bro, which tie I should wear?”

The theme, according to my wife, was gold, champagne gold. Whatever it meant, for all you know you might offer me a bucket of charcoal and say its champagne black and I would agree. I am one of the few privileged individuals to share a common trait with Steven Spielberg – colour blindness.

A realisation at which point, the best man, Derrick, asked, “Bro, is this gold?”. Clock is a ticking, buddy boy. Finally the handsome devil (yes he is, it’s in my speech) was ready and we were about 15 minutes late, driving towards my brother’s house when I started getting calls as to what time I’d reach there and usual worrying stuff like that.

We were there, and all of us, my parents, my brother Balan and his wife and two kids, my younger brother Shubash and his wife, and my once good friend, but now family member, Chithambaram, got ourselves distributed into three cars and off we went to the church.

Which should have been a ten minute trip, except it took us a frickin’ half an hour! The traffic jam god decided to play a prank and placed all available traffic in KL, even though they were heading south towards Johore, in that small road from Selayang leading to Kepong. And at some point while crawling, Balan knocked the bumper of a car in front. Luckily there were not ugly exchanges, just exchange of phone numbers. Everyone’s in a hurry, so I suppose they will throw insults using text messages.

About five minute before arriving, I got call from the bride. Haphazard parking later, we found ourselves rushing up the road leading to the church, a green mid-sized affair which stood next to a Murugan temple (we parked next to the temple knowing well that the one with the Vel wouldn’t mind).

The bride was already waiting in the bridal car (her brother’s Estima), and the brides maids rushed over to fix corsage on the our suit lapels. One of them, Stephanie, fixed one on mine and mind you, the darn thing looks huge and a few more of those on me and I’d be Amazon-Man (“saving the forest by sending out useless flowers for weddings”)

Then, it was the first part, the arrival of the groom and later the bride. Derrick and I was asked to walk towards the first row of benches and we must have both forgotten what day it was when the videographer, walking backwards with camera pointed at us, growled, “Slowly! Slowly!”.

I tell you I was not nervous at all up to that time. Not even when there were many many strange faces staring at me with similar expression a farmer with a lost flock of sheep identifying a culprit would have. With oour near crawl walking pace we reached the front row of the benches with, with my family in tow and they took their respective places while Derrick and I stood to wait for the page boy, the bridesmaid, and subsequently the bride's father and the bride herself.

Soon, the wail-like sound of music to the tune, Here Comes The Bride, filled the air as my wife’s brother, Clinton, hammered the organ. Page boy Ethan, Clinton’s son, led with both of his hands holding an opened Bible with the couple’s ring on it. Ethan looked grim. Okay, it was later that I found out that he was asked to clamp shut his mouth cause the little boy has lost couple of his teeth in front.

Ethan was followed by Linda’s best friends, Amanda, Samantha and Stephanie, all looking beautiful in their golden bridesmaid attire, as was my niece (brother Balan's daughter) Sushmeeta who was the flower girl. Right at the back was my father-in-law and his daughter, in white gorgeous wedding gown and the equally gorgeous face I know so well not so hidden behind a thin veil. It took forever for them to reach us, and when they did, Mr. Fernandez, her father, gave me a vice-like grip and hand over the bride to me. Alrighty then, it’s show time.

Off we went towards the side of the altar where two chair and a small desk awaited us. I recalled her reminding, “pull the chair for me to sit, even there’s enough space for it”. What if I forget, I asked. Well, how about getting stabbed with flower boquet? Okay, I’ll remember.

And I remembered. I pulled the chair and she sat, but not without the assistance of one of the bridesmaid as the back of her wedding gown looked like opened mini-parachute. And off it went, the mass and the service. Usually they’d perform only service for mixed-marriage (different religion, not different specie), but her family managed to get permission from the bishop for the mass to be held. Since I’ve had a hand in writing the permission letter, he must have fallen for “the bridegroom-to-be has no objection in his wife to be to continue practising her faith, especially as he is a poverty stricken writer”.

During the mass, the celebrant, Father Mitchell, talked about three rings, “Engagement Ring”, “Wedding Ring” and “Suffer-Ring”. Haha. Yeah, the same celibate priest once had a session on marriage counselling equating marriage to Titanic. It’s a long story.

Aside: Catholicism is not for someone with bad knee, and having had them scrapped and knocked during my younger days. Kneeling proved to be bad experience and was a terrifying sacrifice I had to make for my wife - shades of more horrors to come including watching, on the second night after wedding, Sex and The City The Movie. Doesn't mean that I have converted...far from it, as you will see in my upcoming Legally Binded Pt 3: A New Hope. End of Aside.

Then, came the moment. We were brought in front of the altar, facing each other, the celebrant read the vows, as did we, and was then asked to slip the wedding rings into each others respective fingers. Was I shaking? No, maybe a little. Then, I was asked to move her veil to her back. Then I waited. You know, the part where the priest would say, “now, you can kiss the bride”. I looked at Father Mitchell who simply said, “Well, what are you waiting for?” Damn. I kissed her lips quickly (I assume that any kiss lasting more than three seconds long would require adult certificate here).

And so there we were. Mr & Mrs Rakesh Kumar to the Catholic community. The Church was full of mostly her side of relatives. As I walked down the aisle with the bride, the earlier look as now changed to genuine warmth and love as they congratulated us, some kissing us. One Sister shook my hand and said that she will continue to monitor and assist me so that I will turn to the right side. Where’s Yoda when you need him.

Few hours later, we were back with the crowd at the reception held at OneBangsar Seafood Complex. After the toast, against the usual custom, the couple was asked to give speech. Basically these are thank you speech and seeing that I had a list of name longer than Cuba Gooding Jrs, I had to craft it carefully as to not to be boring. Or so, I think. Most of the ladies thought so. Read on if you have the courage: