It is said, ‘The early bird gets the worm’ but think about the early worm. ‘Well, the poor guy gets eaten by the first hungry bird that comes along’ reads an internet meme. I’ve been married for twenty-five years and for those many years I have been trying to make my husband understand that when someone invites you over for dinner at 7, you don’t have to be there at 7. It’s unfashionable to be punctual in present times.
We made some new friends and they invited us to tea at 5 in the evening. My husband parked the car at five minutes to five outside their residence and then waited five minutes in the car before ringing the bell. He’s a troublemaker for sure and this often becomes obvious through the flustered actions and disheveled appearance of the host. Since when did they pass the dictum ‘5 means 5’, quoteth their quizzical looks.
Our wedding card had proudly proclaimed- Reception of Baraat– 9 PM. Friends and relatives started pouring in around 8:30 and the conjecture was that since the Baraat is to come from Ambala, their expected time of arrival should be anywhere between 10 to 11 PM. I was sitting in the bridal suite with my friends when one of my friends rushed in to inform us that the baraat was already at the gate. We checked our watches. It was five minutes to 9 and the band gleefully played the then popular number ‘Kabse aaye hain tere dulhe raja…’ from the movie Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai. Now this was something unexpected and unheard of and believe me there was a bit of a commotion at the caterer’s end too.
It was my dewar’s turn to get married and a decree was passed that only immediate family members will attend the wedding which included the mother and father of the groom, the groom himself, my husband, I and our two children. In short, at 9:30 in the morning, two cars set off from our residence on the D-day towards a nearby city as the wedding procession or baraat. My husband marshalled all of us to reach in time so that the hosts would not keep waiting.
One hour later, the two cars halted in the driveway of the hotel. There was no one waiting for us. We made enquiries at the reception desk and the Manager politely requested us to wait in the lobby as ‘baraat abhi aayi nahin’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Hum baraat hi hain’ we informed the poor man who immediately called the hosts to inform them that the baraat had arrived.
My dewarani’s brother was rushed to the venue who arranged for some tea and snacks from the reluctant kitchen staff. The hotel staff ran helter skelter, putting final touches to the wedding hall. Frantic calls were made to the bride’s relatives to reach the venue who mercifully reached within an hour or so and the day was saved.
My husband is not the only one who understands the meaning of commitment. There are others, too, like him. Unfortunately, though, the number of those who do not value such commitments or who undermine the worth of other people’s time, far exceeds those who value.
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