Archive for August 24th, 2012

I saw this contest on Parul’sΒ  blog and from there hopped onto YOEN’s contest . Reading some of the entries from there, I realized, that I wasn’t the only one who had some ridiculous experiences immediately after marriage πŸ™‚ . Some of the others had it far worse πŸ˜€ .Β  Please do check out the links here .

Anyhow, this is one contest which is hard to ignore (not because of the free books, silly, well, maybe that too πŸ˜€ ) because, I think its time I put down my wonderful memories for posterity’s sake. Its not everyday that you go on a honeymoon, do you πŸ˜› ?!!

So, without much ado, here’s my story –

It was Jan 2007, just a couple of weeks after our wedding. We had a houseful of guests and it didn’t seem right to jump off on a honeymoon when they were at our place, for us! So the minute the last of the relatives packed their bags and left, we packed ours too and headed off to Goa.

Winter – Goa….awesome combination πŸ™‚ !!

We had a morning flight from Pune and reached there much before the actual check-in time at the hotel. I spent the time strolling out on the lawns, checking out the place that would be our abode for the next one week. The BF finally got the keys to our room, which was on the top floor of one of the hotel buildings and didn’t have an elevator. By the time I huffed my way up, I swore never to come down again. But after one look at the pretty studio apartment and the pool-view balcony, I was ready to forgive and forget.

The BF meanwhile switched on the TV, checked out the sports channels available and declared himself satisfied . He settled himself in front of the television set and asked me if I could get him something to drink πŸ™„ .

The first day, we went down to the hotel restaurant for lunch. It was empty, surprisingly, since it was already 1:30 pm and I had to drag the BF away from the TV.Β  Country bumpkins that we are, the term called “room-service” never clicked 😦 . Anyhow, there we were, hungry and alone, waiting for at least someone to come by and drop us a menu card. A waiter finally sauntered in, ramp-walked to our table and neatly tossed us the menu ‘book’. We looked at him, he looked back nonchalantly.

“Oh well, must be a Goa thing”, we mused and went back to perusing the menu.

1 plate paneer tikka (6 pieces) [sic]Β  — 300.00

1 sweet lime soda —150.00

Yep, those were the rates. We aren’t really the stingy types, but seriously , the menu card had us reeling. The only reason we shelled out 450/- on those meager items was because I had reservations about walking out, so ordered anyway. The BF refused to eat a bite at that place.

Believe me, the paneer tikka could have killed someone if aimed correctly at their head. The lime soda came in a wine glass. Of the smallest size.

Anyhow, what is food when one is in love and on a honeymoon?? We spent the next few days roaming the beaches, driving along the streets, sightseeing and honeymooning. For a little trouble, we started making our own mini-meals in the fully-equipped kitchen. It wasΒ  the perfect time of our lives. Well, almost.

The fourth day dawned nice and bright. We roamed around some more, met up with BFS’s mother and aunt, who were thrilled to see me and the BF and then found a nice restaurant where we could hop in for some quick lunch. The family seating was on the first floor and again, surprisingly, we were the only people there for a long time. Not that the food was expensive or bad. On the contrary, it was pretty good. Anyhow, post lunch, the BF paid up and we started walking down. Or rather, he walked down. I simply tripped on the hem of my skirt and went rolling down the stairs, banging my head every which way and finally reaching the landing, curled up in a ball. The BF, my knight in shining armour, kept yelling, “Arre, pakdo!!” to the waiters below, who, seeing a human canon-ball hurtling their way, just made sure that they stayed away from my path. Curiosity and the concern for their marble stair-case as well as the loaded trays in their hands, had them staring on in earnest.

Picking up my dignity, my torn skirt hem and then myself in that order, I stood up, indignant about taking help. Shouldn’t have bothered. None was forthcoming. For some reason, ‘Humpty dumpty’ started playing at the back of my mind. The BF was still rushing down the stairs, concern and giggles fighting for place on his face. Its amazing how fast I rolled down. The BF joked later that it was my weight that made for the quick trip. Of course, he said that well into the third year of our marriage πŸ™‚ .

Anyhow, I was too conked out to talk much. We drove back tom the hotel where the BF bought some Iodex and spent some time massaging my sore spots. Those marble staircases hurt like hell!! He tucked me in and closed the door, so that I wouldn’t get disturbed. I spent a fitful time sleeping, not really deep asleep, but too tired and in pain to get up. Finally, I mustered the courage to trudge out and find the BF. Only, he wasn’t there. I called up his cell, no reply. I waited. And waited. And waited.

After 3-4 hours of waiting, he walks in. Sweaty, grimy and with sand pouring out of his hair.

“I had the BEST volleyball match on a beach, EVER!!”, he squealed.

“Oh really”, I took the cold b***h approach.

“Yeah! I had some local kids on my side and the other team had Russians and Germans! You should have been there…I played really well”.

“I couldn’t have been there, you know. Just in case you didn’t notice, I have a bump the size of an egg on my forehead”, I pointed to the aforementioned bump.

“Ohh, its still there?? Don’t worry. It’ll go away. Don’t think about it too much. You know, none of us could speak each other’s language. The local boys didn’t speak anything other than konkani. But still, we had a smashing game. You should have seen the crowd that came to cheer us”.

“I couldn’t have come”, I said, making sure each syllable was shot out like a missile. I also made sure that my eyes were glued to the TV.

“Oh ho…..never mind, so tell me, whats for dinner??”

It took him a fraction of a second to take that line back, else, there would have been only one person returning from that honeymoon. Me 😐


By theΒ  seventh day of the trip, good cheer was restored once more. We went on a trip to Old Goa and visited all the churches and craned our necks to check out all the zillions of paintings! It was with a heavy heart that we went back to the hotel to pack-up. We had a train back to Pune in the afternoon. I suggested to the BF that we reach the station early, you know, just in case.

“There’s plenty of time babes”, he cooed and took me on another trip around Panjim.

After one last lunch and some sight-seeing we went back to the station. Only this time, the train had already left.

Apparently, the BF had mis-read the departure time of the train (D-uh!!). The worst part was that we were late to the station by mere minutes. The train was departing as we entered the station…..had we reached a few minutes earlier, we could have happily occupied our AC 2-tier confirmed seats ! Alas, we walked out, lost in our thoughts. I wondered again, how little I knew of this man whom I married after 8 years of ‘getting to know him’. Clearly, I was lacking in my efforts 😐 .

He, on the other hand, wondered if we could get a bus back to Pune at the earliest, since the next flight was next day evening.Β  So thats how we returned. By bus, over the bumpiest stretch of road I’ve ever been on, sitting towards the rear and then, realizing as we headed towards Pune , that it was still winter back home!! In our Sun, Sand and Goa stupor, we had packed the jackets and sweaters in the suitcases which now rested on the bus’ roof.

We reached home at 5 AM, frozen, tiredΒ  and bronzed. The last thought I had as I crashed out, was that I wasn’t honeymooning with this man again, unless of course, I plan the entire agenda myself and then took the reigns to execute it too.

Its been nearly 6 years since.

We haven’t honeymooned again 😐

So folks, this is my tale. Care to share your’s??

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