Kishore Singh: A destination wedding on the fly

There are probably lots of beautiful places in Bali but none as scenic as the one we were standing in, taking in an incongruous sight. Behind us, an emerald golf course rolling deliciously down in dips and curves. Ahead of us, a crimson sea over which surfers skimmed, and into which the sun seemed intent on disappearing. At this point, where earth and sky and sea met to form a horizon, was a mandap, as though thought up by some inspired Bollywood set designer. And walking around the fire was an Indian couple prompted by an English-speaking, Indonesian priest who would, in a few moments, pronounce them man and wife.

Destination weddings are no longer such a big-ticket thing but this was a destination wedding on the fly where no one seemed to know who was responsible for the wedding and kept passing the buck. We were attending it by pure mischance. Or not. The bride's aunt and her family were part of our holidaying group in Bali when she learnt that her niece had landed up at the very place for what was increasingly seeming like a gunshot wedding, even though no one was holding a gun. The bride's sister may have made the arrangements, or perhaps it was the groom's sibling. At any rate, only they and their parents were present though it was not at all clear whether it was through compliance or coercion.

It might have been a great cocktail story for us back in India, only, we were all in Bali and knew the bride's family well enough, if in part because of their close relative who was part of our group. News of the nuptials had already leaked so our friend found herself at a curious crossroads: Should she be furious that she hadn't been invited, or miffed because she might be asked to attend simply because she happened by? "You will come with me," she beseeched us, even though we weren't invited - yet - but then, neither was she - yet. "It's your family thing," we said, "you go." "Well, we certainly won't," others in our group chimed in, hurt that the invitation-that-hadn't-yet-come might make things worse by being even more last-minute.

Which is as it happened. Since we were all in Bali, would we grace the occasion? The matter was laughable. No one had formal clothes, leave alone wedding finery. The kids revolted, friends rebelled, the bride's aunt and uncle had a fight, and everyone sulked because I suggested it might actually be fun. Because everyone took positions, the group split down the middle, fully half choosing to stay away while some of us decided to brave it in our clearly inappropriate clothes - my wife wore a gypsy skirt and flowers in her hair. Even though we felt like awkward wedding crashers, I have to say I enjoyed the filminess of it all. There were recriminations and silences, but also hugs and tears - an Indian wedding, after all, is incomplete without its share of melodrama.

Then, just as the sun went down, we had a drink - but just the one - because there was now the rest of the vacation group to consider and appease. But before leaving, we couldn't help ask who had thought up the escapade. Fingers passed the buck, till it seemed no one was responsible. Which, as one of the children astutely pointed out, made it seem like a trailer. Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost.