(Editor’s note: This is part of a recurring series of personal narratives by Gurjevan Bansal, a staff writer who will be sharing glimpses of her own unique life experiences. Any opinions expressed are not necessarily those of The Saber staff.)
A very important perk of being insanely delusional is the weird amount of confidence that comes with it. It’s the last day of the wedding and I had the very important decision of choosing a dress color. Remember, your choice will have consequences. As I sat in the middle of this store named “Big Depot,” I pondered what character I was trying to look like. Oscar the Grouch? It? Cookie Monster? No matter how many dresses I wore or how I wore them my mind was always filtered to say nasty things about myself. It comes from the perfectionism that runs deep in my veins.

I decided on the color of marsh green because that’s the color of the trash can I live in just like my idol, Oscar the Grouch.
This heavy, ponderous, dense wedding dress had golden stitching everywhere and it was absolutely gorgeous. My auntie, Raj, did my hair and oh my god, I could feel each of my brain cells coming out of my scalp; that hairstyle was tight (it made me look like a burnt potato topped with chives). As for my extravagant, exuberant accessories, I was wearing golden and green bangles, a tikka, and a ring. If you feel confused as to what I’m talking about, google it. It’s free.
One thing about Indian weddings is that everyone gets dressed up like it’s their own wedding, and that’s because they know they can never outshine the bride. You could even wear red, the color of the bride’s dress, to the wedding and people couldn’t give less of a crap.
Today was the day the bride and groom actually got married. Made it official. Once we were done getting ready, we were taken to a temple. We prayed there and then we had to take pictures with the bride and groom. This was the first time I had seen the groom (it’s an arranged marriage) and he had a mustache and beard, he looked like the joker. Not the villain joker (thankfully), but like the joker from the joker card. He looked great, a little scary but cool nonetheless.
After pictures, we went to a private room, where prayers were being read from the holy Guru Granth Sahib and a wedding ritual was being held.

Women and men were separated and I sat down in the women’s section (obviously… I know I look like a middle aged man but I’m a girl), and I watched as the couple went in circles around the priest that was reading the holy book. They got married. That’s it. We left the temple and we went to a hall to eat.
The food was okay, but like the men in my life, it was rather disappointing. I did like the fries, the fries were good, they were seasoned too. The manchurian, which is like a vegetable meatball dozed in a sauce, was pretty delectable, super amazing, makes your mouth water, kinda old and overall really good. The Gulab Jamun, which is like a dough ball full of syrup, was really good, it had a flavor to it. More than the usual sweet doughy flavor. It actually tasted like something other than sugar. It tasted like balls. Sweet saffron balls.
Music was playing and people were dancing. I was completely drained from dancing the night before, so I went home early. It was such a nice feeling to let my hair down. I could feel my brain cells falling out with every step that I took. I thought I was going to be such a cutie wearing some uncomfortable heels that left a bruise on my foot. A big, ginormous, ugly bruise on my foot. I even knew it was going to do that, and I still wore them. What did I think was going to happen? Someone stops in the middle of their tracks and bows down to my foot (ew foot fetish), I really am insanely delusional. It was so nice to get out of that heavy (a cuss word would be great right here) dress. After a while it starts to weigh you down, like most things in life.
Then, I put my pajamas on and it was time to go to bed.

Just to see that some little, annoying, rats had come into the room and messed up the bedspread. Those rats being little children. They are by far the most annoying thing in the world. So much for having a restful sleep.
When I fix the bed and finally fall asleep, I am awoken by this kid just staring at me. I barely even knew the kid, (that’s an exaggeration, it’s my cousin) and it had the audacity to just stare at me while I was sleeping. That’s creepy, get a life. Please. I don’t see my cousin a lot, who wants to visit someone that can’t respect boundaries, but whenever we do go to India, we always stay at my uncle’s house, with his wonderful son.
The other kids are not any better. I understand that they are all very close because they live in a little village/town area. However, I don’t understand why they play with balls inside the house, like what if you break something. I’m sure those kids also know, they’re going to get in trouble if something breaks. Common sense isn’t as common as it needs to be.
Not only that, these kids, who came from other houses around ours, made themselves completely at home. I understand making yourself at home, as long as you are respectful to those letting you stay, and enjoying yourself. But these kids were fighting each other whilst jumping on the bed, and completely messing up the beautiful set up I had made. How rude! What’s crazy is that someone was trying to sleep on the bed while they were acting like idiots.
You can’t even say it was because they were young, one of them had graduated high school and was still acting like a little 4-year-old boy. I thought with age came maturity and a sense of responsibility.

The only thing that idiot was responsible for, was keeping his pants up. (Which he seemed to be failing at as I saw some…interesting sites. Please send bleach for my eyes.)
These kids that were recklessly fighting each other even had the audacity to get mad at the other person if they got hurt. Someone’s ear started bleeding, I don’t remember or care which one it was, but it had the audacity to get mad at the other because it got hurt whilst “play fighting.” It literally initiated the fight as well, if it isn’t the consequences of your own decisions then I don’t know what it is. Like what did you expect was going to happen? You were going to come out like Superman with laser beaming eyes? No.
Then one of the kids stole some money from us, and my little sister would not let them live it down. Now, when she first told me this news, she looked at me like any other person spilling tea about someone else would.
She said, “ G… I have something to tell you,” and I looked at her a little skeptical. You know when you’re in a big family, you can’t completely trust anyone. I was worried she was going to tell me that she knew one of my biggest darkest secrets, one so old that I didn’t even remember it.
“She stole…twenty rupees from me, I’m not gonna talk to her anymore, she so fake,” she said.
She told this to me in a very melodramatic way, I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or if she was trying to make me laugh. I chose the latter end and stared at her, deep in her poop brown eyes and I told her “Okay?” Her reaction was amazing, she went ballistic, she couldn’t even say a word all she could do was “UGH,” at me.
I care more about the wrinkles on my dad’s face then I do about some girl stealing twenty rupees, which isn’t even worth a dollar in America. Moral of the story: She must’ve needed it if she stole it, and if you cared about that money, you would have kept watch of it. The end.