Getting Married: One Last Dance (3)

The wedding reception was… interesting. For the previous couple of days I had spent time secretly practising our couple’s dance — alone. We had planned to dance to 'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran, and there was one particular move in the routine that could either make the entire dance perfect (no pun intended)… or make us go viral for all the wrong reasons because the guy is technically supposed to lead, it was important for me to get it right. Especially since my wife kept forgetting the dance during practice. So while she thought everything was fine, I was quietly rehearsing it on my own, hoping that when the moment came I wouldn’t mess it up in front of everyone.

Our reception was held at a huge farmhouse about an hour away from us in Delhi. My dad and one of his friends picked my wife and I up, and we headed there early so we could get ready before the guests started arriving. The venue had separate rooms for us to clean up, get dressed, and — most importantly for my wife — get her makeup done. When we arrived, my cousin sisters, my mum, and my mum’s sister were already deep into the makeup process. They were all taking turns in the chair, their faces covered in this bright orange layer of foundation. Honestly, they looked like a group of Oompa Loompas sitting around gossiping while waiting for their turn with the makeup and hair. Meanwhile, I spent about three hours doing absolutely nothing. It takes me roughly thirty minutes to get ready, I was just wandering back and forth between the two rooms like a bored child — occasionally convincing my wife to stop gossping for a moment and practise our dance again.

The move itself was actually quite simple. At the moment when Ed Sheeran sings “baby please…” in Perfect at a higher tone, I was supposed to pull my wife in close, dip her down to my side, and then swing her back up in one smooth motion. Understand? Yeah… that’s probably the best way I can explain it. Hopefully the photo makes it clearer than my description does. Hours passed, and eventually it was finally time for me to get ready. My wife had just started her makeup, which was my cue to go and get dressed. When I came back to her room, she was in the middle of transforming into her extra-pretty reception version of herself. I sat behind her quietly, waiting patiently while the makeup artist worked. The makeup artist kept complimenting how well we matched, how nice we looked together. Meanwhile, the only thought running through my head was: Don’t mess up the dance. It’s always something with me — some small thing constantly running around in my head, trying its best to make me panic at the worst possible moment.

Once she finally got dressed, we practised the dance one more time just to make sure everything went smoothly. Admittedly, though, both of us were far more distracted by how incredible she looked. I honestly couldn’t stop staring at my own wife. It was the only thing calming me down from the very real possibility that I might drop her during the dance, but at that moment it almost didn’t matter — she looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a deep emerald green dress covered in intricate gold embroidery that seemed to catch the light with every movement. The detailing ran from the neckline all the way down the length of the dress, with delicate patterns woven so carefully that it almost looked like artwork rather than fabric. The gold designs contrasted perfectly against the rich green, giving it a regal, almost royal look. Her dupatta draped elegantly over one shoulder, matching the same gold detailing along its border, while the jewellery added just enough sparkle without taking attention away from the outfit itself and somehow, despite how beautiful the dress was, it still wasn’t the first thing you noticed.

It was her.

Everything about the way she carried herself in that moment — the confidence, the smile, the quiet excitement — made her the most beautiful person in the entire room. Honestly, probably the most beautiful person in the world. Which was helpful… because if I was going to embarrass myself during that dance, at least I’d be embarrassing myself next to someone who looked like that.

I’m not really someone who craves attention. In fact, I usually try to avoid it whenever possible, but after all the entrances we had already made throughout the wedding events, it had started to feel a little easier. Not comfortable exactly… but easier. While we were waiting for our cue to enter the reception, one of my dad’s friends, Geeta Zailder, walked over to say hello. I told him my dad had actually been looking for him for a while. He congratulated us warmly, wished us well, and then walked inside joining everyone else who was already waiting for our grand entrance.

The photographer gave us the signal.
“Come forward.” The announcement was made that the newlyweds were about to enter. We turned the corner, and suddenly there they were — our families waiting for us, smiling. Cameras pointed in our direction, bright lights shining, and hundreds of eyes fixed on us as we walked in, and somehow, in that moment, my brain came up with the most ridiculous coping mechanism.
I can dance in front of everyone, I told myself. There’s not that many people here. Of course there were, but the farmhouse was so big that the crowd looked smaller than it actually was. And honestly, I was happy to believe anything that would trick my brain into stopping the overthinking for a few minutes.

After a few photos and a moment where my wife’s family came over to greet her — the first time they had properly seen her in two days — it was finally time for the dance. Once again, I tried to calm myself down.The music began — Perfect by Ed Sheeran — and we started dancing. At first, everything was going smoothly, but I knew the main move was coming and right on cue, my mum’s voice popped into my head:
“Don’t bring her down too much or you’ll drop her.”
Great timing. The moment arrived. Our hands were together as we slowly moved further apart, setting up the move we had practised so many times. Then I pulled her in, twirled her, and… down she went. I brought her head as close to my knee as I possibly could before powering through the second half of the move and lifting her back up in a circle motion.
It worked. Relief. In fact, it worked even better than it ever had during practice. We heard cheers around us, and in that moment I realised — from the reactions — that it must have looked even better from the outside than it felt doing it. Then I saw my wife’s smile, and suddenly all the nerves disappeared. There were just a few final touches left in the routine. The song slowly came to an end, and as the music faded, the crowd cheered. It was a little overwhelming but in the best possible way.

After our dance, there were a few solo performances that followed. My dad and my mum’s sisters also had their own dance, and it turned out to be incredible. It was so good that clips of it eventually started circulating on TikTok and Instagram, where it ended up getting quite a bit of attention. Then came a surprise. My wife had planned a dance of her own — something I had absolutely no idea was going to happen. As she stepped out, dressed in that beautiful green outfit and completely dolled up, I couldn’t stop smiling. She looked so adorable and full of confidence up there, performing in front of everyone, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about nerves, or the crowd, or whether I might mess something up. I was just watching my wife and enjoying the moment.

The night lasted around three or four hours, there was a lot of dancing, plenty of funny moments, drinks flowing, and laughter everywhere. The kind of night where time moves quickly without you really noticing. Towards the end, my wife and I finally sat down together on one of the sofas, a little tired but cosy, watching as people slowly began to leave. One by one the crowd thinned out, and that was the moment it really hit us.
The months of planning.
The stress.
Watching our parents run around trying to organise everything.
The late nights, the tired eyes. It was all over.
Everything had come together, and somehow it had all worked.
It was complete.

It was perfect.