Splendid, stupendous and superlative, that's how yours truly is looking today. My floors are dressed in the most exquisite Italian marble; walls draped with exclusive teak panelling; a vivacious fountain bubbles in the centre; shimmering chandeliers bedazzle and exotic flora embellishes me. Pardon my self-complimenting tone but that's why I have been conceived, to beget admiration and flaunt one's social standing.
You must be familiar with my lesser-privileged brethren, the tent/shamiana, community halls and unpretentious marriage palaces but only a few fortunate ones have experienced the opulence of a swish wedding resort.
Lucky you, be my guest today as I play host to the wedding of a city elite's daughter. Do you see the pyrotechnics (fireworks you silly) that burst into thousands of colourful trinkets illuminating the sky, it implies the bridegroom is here. Here comes the groom in a Swarovski-studded designer wear, majestically riding a fairytale chariot (not your usual famished mare).
Along with the groom comes a fashion mob of near and dear ones, parading their haute couture attires, outshining each other with their real diamonds and fake smiles. If looks (or rather made-up looks) could kill, then all present would be guilty of crime. Women are busy playing mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the prettiest of all? Their better-halves are sizing up their opponents' (I mean fellow guests') health and wealth.
Before you forget, there's a wedding going on, let me introduce the Cinderella or the bride-to-be as she descends (walking is passé) on a crescent moon right in front of her prince charming. Both bride and groom wear their attitude or rather their affluence on their sleeves - my daddy richest! The groom is a bit disheartened about the plush sedan being gifted to him (dowry, what's that?) as he has been expecting an imported, limited edition sports model.
But believe me, the guests are really not interested in this theatrical or its star performers. They are enticed only by the scrumptious delicacies being dished out in the foodie's paradise, a la carte gastronomic haven. Spoiled for choice and a resolve to savour each cuisine with a vengeance, soon leaves a trail of destruction, I mean trash-trolleys littered with leftovers (enough to feed a small town). After all, what will happen if you keep on filling an already full pitcher, it'll spill! Austerity is not my forte, but then the sight of hungry slum kids outside my imposing gates perturbs me.
Now, it's time for the sacred vows to solemnise the holy matrimony, the crux of this extravaganza. And at this stage, my significance ceases, my grandeur dwindles and my confidence plummets. Here, I become on a par with my less-fortunate brethren. My ambience cannot enhance the sanctity of these rituals, nor can my prosperity contribute towards posterity of this nuptial alliance.
Can a lavish location or a pompous celebration warranty a happily ever after or at least a favourable appraisal from the high-profile critics (guests)? All said and done, a marriage is a commitment by two people to be together in this journey called life, to revel in its joys and to endure its miseries, together. This alliance sure calls for celebration, but to what extent? It's your call.