This week was the second part of my brother’s wedding, known as the nikah, where the legal contract is signed before entering an Islamic marriage. It took place in a marquee in the bride’s house.
On the way there in the car, my mum made an announcement: “Nobody speak when the marriage is happening. Let Dad do the talking.”
“But Dad’s not getting married,” we said.
“Yes, but he’s the only one who knows what to do, so we follow him.”
On arrival, photos were being taken. My dad was looking happy, my mum sat there as if she were at the cinema, with a blank expression. My younger brother and I were taking photos, and had to keep shouting, “Mum, smile.” My mum has one set look for births, marriages and deaths.
After food, the bride and groom stood up to leave. My mum shouted to me: “Shaz, get your camcorder – you have to film this.” I filmed them getting into a waiting car, only to see my mother getting in with them. My other brother shouted, “Mum, you can’t go with them, they’ve just got married.”
My mum shouted back, “But I need a lift to the hotel!”
All the wedding photos have three people getting into that car. Let’s hope there are not three people in that marriage. As Princess Diana pointed out, it doesn’t work.