Masala Wedding

Masala Wedding You Tube trailer

 www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ob2whYMKnI

320 pages and 25 chapters of edge of the seat drama...

    Kam Gill is to marry his beautiful bride Kiran, the girl of everyone’s dreams and a quintessential goddess. However, his nefarious, murky past threatens to catch up with him and expose his darkest secrets. It seems no matter which way he turns, the knives are being sharpened. Will he make it out of the wedding alive, let alone marry his bride? A tense, knife edged thriller that will keep you guessing. Feel the pain, the gut wrenching misery and indulge yourself in the humorous events that whisk you off on a whirlwind journey to the Punjabi wedding of the year.

Book Excerpts 

  Punjabi weddings are simple but lively affairs and celebrated with a great deal of verve and relish. Today was like the Punjabi Mardi Gras, an occasion to beat all occasions. All over the hall there was an abundance of flowerlike sari’s, resplendent Indian suits and wonderfully colourful turbans illuminating the reception like only a true Punjabi wedding could do so. It was the marriage of the visual with the feeling of quality that set the mood sublimely.

Sharm, sweating profusely as he always did, and with body odour so bad it was enough to put a skunk in a life threatening coma then let me down from his shoulders. He stood there swaying and whistling with his fingers in his mouth. I had to escape, he was big, drunk, and more importantly exuded the freshness of a tramps underpants.

This was the day that every woman worth her salt would have penned in their diaries. The day just before the wedding which they would look forward to knowing full well the humiliation that was facing every groom in this most anticipated of traditions? A yellow, thick, gooey tumeric paste and staining cream would be applied to the groom's limbs and facial area in a bid to make him whiter for the wedding day whilst the women (in some cases the apostles of Satan), chanted and sang hymns and boliyans (songs) with delightful glee.

Elsewhere you could see married partners sharing saucy and secretive looks with one another, trying in vain to keep their murky liaisons hush hush as their unsuspecting husbands and wives grooved inches away from them. This was the burning light of reality of today’s modern society, it was just impossible to comprehend.

She was my goddess, the main artery of my life, a flowing river gushing through the previously baron plains of my existence, a true irrigational saviour and I knew I had won the lottery.

Don’t get me wrong I would rather have slept on a bed of killer rats, drank a cup of cold sick than be stuck in the cross hairs of this devil, but what could I have done? Bullies like this are motivated by fear, weakness and other such manifestations, and I had signed up to this treatment, the day I let him permeate my existence, this was my biggest faux pas.

At the time I felt on top of the world, untouchable and like a veritable god. I had just taken a heavy shot of the white stuff in the toilet at work. This was my unique, tried and trusted way of escaping the mundane and stupefying groove of life’s chores.

This was it the moment of reckoning. One Amitabh Bacchan type heroic lunge for the knife could be catastrophic. The icy critique of the morgues cold slab was enough to make the decision transparently easy as I looked down at the serrated edge of the knife that was being twirled in sinister fashion under my nose. Similarly, as I did not have a particular penchant for hospital food I relented against trying my Bruce Lee flying Kick move on him.

I mean any more hideous and she would have been wrapped around with yellow hazard tape and condemned. The pig tusks protruding through her nose gave me my first indications that she was a Frankenstein experiment gone hideously wrong.

`Kam saab - who is that bhanchod over there staring at me with the caterpillar eyebrows?` I looked at him incredulously, was he taking the royal piss out of me: `That’s my dad man!`