JULY 2016
Dear Bride-To-Be...
Trust. It’s the foundation of any loving relationship! On this beautiful journey you are on, it began when you trusted your future husband enough to say “yes” to his marriage proposal, and when he trusted you enough to ask you to marry him. When it comes to planning your wedding, the foundation you build with your wedding professionals should also be based upon trust. However, like finding your soul mate, it takes time to build that trust. The trust you place in your wedding vendors is the foundation to a happy and successful wedding, which can be the beginning of a happy and successful marriage. Remember when meeting your soon-to-be husband, how you instantly knew that there was chemistry and that you two clicked? When meeting your potential wedding vendors, you should follow the same gut feelings. When you trust your wedding vendors, the planning process isn’t so overwhelming. Wishing all our Muslim readers Happy Eid Mubarak! It’s Hari Raya season again! The wonderful thing about being from a multi-racial country like Malaysia and Singapore is everybody gets into the fun of the festivals. Thanks to all contributors. We hope that you will enjoy this July issue and will look forward to see you on October. Congratulations on this exciting new chapter in your life! I wish you pure joy, happiness and success in your life of love!
Your with Love,
Vijayasri
VIJAYASRI Editor & Creative Director editor@sweetchimes.com
COVER PHOTO BY SIXUCA PHOTOGRAPHY
IN THE TEAM Syazareena
Advertising & Sales
Maria Bark Social Media
Zulfadli Nasir Fashion Advisor
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JULY WEDDING STORY
LEYLA FAIZUL
Faizul fell in love not once, but twice. Firstly, to this part of the world, but most importantly, to Leyla. You can tell when someone is completely in love with another person. It’s all in the eyes.
With Faizul and Leyla, you know for a fact that these are two individuals whose hearts are totally and utterly committed to one another.
5 Minutes With...
Eshwara Manikanta
How would you describe your style? I would like to say that my style lies in being eclectic and not sticking to any one particular style! This is because I believe that sticking to any one style will limit my chances of exploring new perspectives and improving my work… Apart from wedding photography we do fashion photography and portrait. My imagination is boundless and I compose my frames spontaneously… What’s the best part of being a wedding photographer? Well, in short, it’s about being a part of as many fairy tales as I can… Every wedding is a story in itself and I just love to narrate these stories as beautifully as I can through my pictures. It gives me immense pleasure to capture people’s emotions, their happiness and excitement... Pictures allow us to re-live our happiest moments each time we glance through them. Isn’t it a lovely job to do where I get to seal these precious moments in frames of eternity? My job as a wedding photographer gives me immense happiness coz I am always surrounded by happy people, unadulterated smiles and joy! The hardest part of your job? The hardest part is that I cannot spend enough time with family and friends when I want to, for that matter even with myself! Why only me? I am sure every photographer experiences this concern... BUT, It isn’t that hard after all, because my work is my meditation! I love my job. Where would be your dream destination wedding? Well, I never thought of one but come to think of it, I would surely love to be a part of royal and exotic weddings… Let’s say in Jodhpur or better still in Greece. Things you say or do to put your clients at ease in front of the camera? For me it takes no effort to mingle with my client right from the first meeting… In fact, I dislike calling them clients; I would prefer calling them friends. Can there be a gap of awkwardness between friends? I guess not I have been fortunate in being treated as a member of their family rather than a photographer.
GUY’S CORNER
“Why guys forget... It’s genetic” by Dr.Ajay Hotchandani
So my editor, the awesome Vijayasri, asked me if I had finished my article for this issue and of course I hadn’t completed it. Before we proceed any further, you know what makes Vijayasri awesome is that she has almost as many vowels in her name as she does consonance. But I digress. So the article is to cover guys and our frame of mind and what we are thinking and how we don’t realize the strange things we do at times (like notice how many vowels there are in someone’s name and work out the percentage). But, again, I digress. So the article is why guys, in general, are the way we are. I had once written an article and I started off with a blanket statement stating “All guys are idiots”. I did this as a carte Blanche statement to absolve me, and my species, of anything we do wrong. Hey, I said I was an idiot, what more did you expect from me? When it comes to thought process and an eye for the obvious, again, I’m an idiot. Women are very complex creatures whose emotions have often been described as roller coaster in nature. What many fail to mention is that the roller coaster is in North Korea and sitting behind you is Kim Jung Un and his henchmen waiting for you to utter something insulting about his hairstyle. I would like to sit here and write how guys are analytical and creative thinkers who are able to jump start a car using nothing more than empty bottle, cheese, a faded receipt and their cell phones, which I’ve sort of done before ( I was eating a cheese sandwich, holding an empty coke bottle with a old receipt stuck to the bottom of my shoes while on my cell phone to my mechanic asking for help), but the fact of the matter is there are times we will be able to pull off an almost impossible feat which often leaves you in awe of our brain, and five minutes later we prove to you that the moment of genius was just that, something lasting no longer than a moment. So what makes us like this? If you are expecting to find the answer in the remainder of this article, well I hope this isn’t a surprise to you but there is no answer to that question. There is the obvious answer, we are guys and that often ends the search for further answers, but there are few who dare calculate vowel to consonance percentage and it is those few who really need to go see their psychiatrist or proctologist. This magazine is about wedding and planning events. Ladies, based off what you just read it is best you keep in mind that your future husband will do some absolutely idiotic things leading up to the wedding and maybe even on the wedding day that will make you question, “What the hell am I getting myself into?”. Keep in mind, it’s not just your man but everyone else’s man too, as we are all idiots. If you give him five different shades of purple to choose from and he says they all look the same, it’s because they all do look the same. If you ask his opinion and he tells you choose whatever makes you happy, it’s because he just really doesn’t mind any option that makes you happy and him being asked less questions. So before you contemplate calling off the wedding cause your future husband is late to his own funeral, I mean wedding, just know you are getting sage advice from a guy who showed up to the wrong funeral. This is where it gets a bit tricky because in certain religions you can be forgiven for all your sins within seconds (or a minute if your list is as long as mine), while in other religions you may spend a lifetime paying for those sins…..let’s get the forgiving thing over quickly before “BOOM” happens!
MUST READ STORY My mother: ‘When are you going to get married beta?’ ‘I don’t know mom.’ Pinky Aunty: ‘Look, even your younger brothers have children now. What are you waiting for?’ Yes, the ultimate goal in my life is to produce children for my well-wishers or so-called well-wishers. Kiren Bhabhi: ‘Get married soon so that we can come to your wedding and have a good time.’ Okay, so for you to have a good time at a party I should put myself in the eternal bonds of holy matrimony with someone I don’t even know. Sheela Mami: ‘Get married soon, you are getting older, all your hair will fall, and then no one will want to marry you!’ Yes of course, you are right. All the bald people are bachelor’s, aren’t they? Welcome to my life. I am Shoumik, I am thirty and I am the most eligible bachelor in the town. Okay, not the most eligible, but near about. I am a computer engineer by profession and I work in a reputed company. Now that makes me a commodity much in demand with other desperate parents like my mother. She gets at least two marriage proposals for me in a week. She gets pictures of the girls and tries to force me to like them. But that’s not the worst part; the worst part is when the parents arrange for me to meet the girl at a coffee shop. If I don’t agree to go, my mother tries emotional blackmail. ‘Now you’re all grown up…why would you want to listen to me You are earning good money, so why would you care about your poor mother. If your dad were here… I feel so alone sometimes…’ And all this interspersed with sobs. Ok. Fine. I will go and meet her. And the dreaded meeting would go something like this… I sit and wait for the girl to arrive in one of the oldest coffee houses on Park Street, Kolkata. The girl’s parents, of course, select the venue. I put on my headphones and start listening to music on my mobile while looking out of the window. Okay, I have to admit that even though my attitude towards this meeting was negative there’s always a bit of apprehension, a little excitement, a tiny butterfly in the stomach wondering if she’s the one. What if she is my soul mate? Just then the glass doors open and a lady may be in her late 40s, dressed in a striking red saree and struggling with her umbrella, enters the coffee shop. It’s quite a scene. I can’t stop smiling at her predicament. But my smile fades away as she starts walking towards me. I thought she would slap me for smiling at her plight. However, she asks me, in Bengali, ‘Are you Shoumik? The son of Mrs. De, the nursing school principal?’ There are too many questions, and all at the same time. Stay calm, I tell myself. But there’s only one simple answer. I admit meekly that I am. ‘Good, I am Mrs. Moonmoon Majundar.’ She stares hard at me, as if expecting an acknowledgment, or rather, an applause. I get up quickly and touch her feet. A faint smile appears on her face. As nervous as I am, I ask her ‘But ma’m I thought I would be meeting your daughter?’
‘Yes. Yes, she’s here. Mrs. Majumdar moves her gigantic body and from behind her there emerges a sweet looking girl, dressed in a salwar kameez, which looks like it was bought for this particular occasion. She is pleasantly plump, like most Bengali girls are. She has a round face and I can tell it’s quite a simple one underneath the thick layer of make-up she has worn. She isn’t particularly pretty but isn’t that bad to look at, either. The problem with men is that even though we might look like Ron Howard or Kesto Mukherjee, we would expect the girl to be Aishwarya Rai. But I don’t have any such problems. ‘Pompa this is Shoumik. Shoumik, this my daughter Pompa’ (Pompa and Papai, how cute). The mother introduces us and adds, ‘I will be sitting across at that table, you guys talk.’ She points towards an empty table at the corner of the coffee shop. After a pregnant pause I offer the girl a chair and ask what she would like to have. She says, ‘Nothing,’ and keeps looking down. Our first conversation and her first words to me are ‘nothing’. That’s a start! ‘Why not? Do have something. What about a coffee?’ ‘No, thank you. I don’t drink tea or coffee,’ she says, looking at me for the first time. And then the pregnant silence filled in the atmosphere again. Though I am a talkative person and have no problem striking up a conversation with anyone this is a totally different situation. What should I talk about? Where do I begin? Perhaps by asking what she had for lunch today? Or what she likes eating most? What are her favorite movies? Does she like ice cream? There are so many questions and I just don’t know where to start. While I contemplate on which question to ask first, she breaks the silence by asking a deep meaningful question herself—in a thick Bengali accent: ‘What did you eat for lunch?’ And without waiting for my response, she adds, ‘I had chicken rice.’ I stare at her face in disbelief. I don’t know what to say so I just say ‘Oh! So you like chicken?’ She says ‘Yes I just love chicken. You know every Sunday my baba brings a chicken from the market and maa cooks it. You must come visit us some day. I’ll ask maa to cook for you.’ Oh! Wonderful! I am finally beginning to have a meaningful conversation about our future. At least now I know what Sundays would mean after getting married. I begin wondering how to get out of this when she speaks again. ‘What happened? Why are you so quiet?’ I say, ‘No, I was imagining how good your mother’s chicken might be.’ She lets out a giggle. I smile. Please God, don’t tell me that she will turn out to be my soul mate. She sees the headphones and asks, ‘Are you listening to music?’ Yes. I was, before you trampled on my pleasant life with that plate of chicken rice. ‘Yes. I was,’ I say with a smile. Her eyes light up. ‘Oh I love music, what were you listening to?’ ‘Pink Floyd.’ Her expression changes to a question mark. ‘Who is that? Anyway, I love Ricky Martin.’
Okay. That’s it. I call for the bill and leave in a hurry, saying goodbye to Mrs. Majumdar. Back home, it was as I expected—my mother goes on defending the girl I just rejected. ‘What’s wrong with her, she is pretty, she is a graduate and she can cook. Just because she likes chicken rice and Ricky Martin is no reason to reject her.’ ‘Mom, you know it’s not about chicken rice and Ricky Martin. Its about my soul mate, its about connecting to a person at a mental level. I don’t see her as my wife at all. She is not even close to what I imagine.’ ‘All your friends are married and have children by now and you are still imagining. Beta, come back to reality. No angel will come down from heaven for you.’ ‘Let it be, mom, I don’t mind, even if I don’t get married my entire life, at least I won’t have unwanted clutter in my life. There is nothing common between us. In my social circle, what will I introduce her as? Meet my wife Pompa, she loves chicken rice? If I won’t be happy, would you be happy? And would she be happy? It doesn’t make any sense to spoil two lives for the sake of this social responsibility. So stop sacrificing innocent people at the altar of social responsibility. I will find the right girl at the right time, mom, don’t worry. Isn’t being single better than marrying the wrong person and suffering? ‘Okay, fine, I get your point,’ replies my mother. I thank God for getting out of this, but just as I am about to leave my mother says, ‘By the way, I met Mrs. Sinha at the market today. Her daughter is doing her MBA in Delhi. She is a pretty and very modern girl—just the kind you like. She gave me her daughter’s photograph. Would you like to see it? Maybe she’s the one for you?’