Mor Milagai, Naan & Lemon Souffle

The groom came from Calcutta, oops, Kolkata. But then, he was working in Gurgaon, and was moving to Bangalore and, surprise, surprise, grew up in Chennai when it was Madras. So he can understand Tamil, he informed, almost with a note of warning, lest we discuss him in our mother tongue and pay for the peril.
On the top floor of the Ramada Inn, the groom's party and the brides congregated for a get-together, and it took much of the tropical heat to break the ice on that Saturday, Nov 19.The sign on the way to the lift/elevator said "South-East Monsoon Wedding".
Factually, this was the season of the North-East Monsoon, but someone clever had done a nice take on the Bengali groom and the Tamil bride, he of the numbers and she of the designs. It rained and rained in Chennai the day after the wedding but the parties were saved the agony of a drenched D-Day, which would probably have entailed the guests to some swimming exercise, given the road conditions of the city.The top floor of the Ramada overlooked the city's glittering nightlights, blessed by the new money spawned by IT, automotives and suchlike exports. The bride wore a designer saree, and had apparently chosen one for her sister too, and the twosome stood well in contrast to the harried men of the family, who were busy all through the day ferrying members of the groom's party. That was a good excuse to turn up in frazzled T-shirts and jeans.
Cosmo weddings are here, but some things don't change. The bride's father (and uncles) are usually the worried lot.The spread included a dainty-quainty mix of the north and south, though I could not spot the east, unless someone had chosen to eat someone from the groom's party. As far as I know, there were none eating that kind of stuff, although the F&B manager confirmed to me that eggs were present in the souffle.Oh, well. Some things do change in Brahmindom of the New Millennium. Wait till you hear about the pundit.