When I was 18 years, I remember having a conversation about marriage with a dear friend. In a drunken stupor (ok who I am kidding. 18 year old Indian girls from extremely strict indian families. We were probably high on masala tea), we decided that if we weren’t married by the grand old age of 30, we would migrate to Australia and become complete party animals (By that, I mean we will go to sleep at 11pm, instead of at 10pm) and live a life of sin.
It has been 12 years since, and I turn 30 in 8 months, and I am getting married in 11 months. I have known Mr N for exactly 3 months and we decided to get married 2 months into the relationship. When I look back at the whirlwind that has been our relationship, I am left speechless because it happened when I least expected it, with a man who has disproved every single misconception I have ever had about them menfolk.
Feeling as overwhelmed as I am, I have this nagging suspicion that I am in shock, and also possibly completely overwhelmed by the wedding preparations, the house hunting and everything else we have embarked on in order to kickstart our life together. And hence the blog. For me to pen down precious memories, that I can savour, in time to come.