In June this year, designer Masaba Gupta and film producer Madhu Mantena had the quietest of civil ceremonies. It was only when she took to Twitter the next day to talk about the court registry that most people heard of it. It was a move most unorthodox, for a leading fashion designer, especially one who counts several Bollywood actors among her close friends.

At the time, she also announced “a Caribbean wedding in November”.

The destination wedding isn’t happening. But that’s not to deprive us of a grand, four-day affair, the sort that has the most coveted guest list, and is followed with the keenest interest. It will start on November 19, with the bridal showers, will continue with the mehendi on November 20, the sangeet on November 21 and a gala reception on Sunday, (November 22). Expect the works, and guest lists that boast of Bollywood A-listers (Shahid and Mira Kapoor, and Sonam Kapoor are close friends, just so you know).

In short, it sounds like any other grand Indian celebrity wedding. Except, this is Masaba Gupta we’re talking about. As we catch up with her, we get the sense that she’s approached the whole thing with the same minimalism and quirkiness with which she approaches fashion. “A lot of people are invited,” she tells us, “But I’m not going around and talking about my wedding designer or my lipstick, so on and so forth.”

Unlike most Indian brides, she’s not even fretting over the big day, or days, as it were. “When I was growing up, I always saw brides around me under tremendous stress. The pressure to dress a certain way, wear a certain amount of jewellery and make-up... I saw how uncomfortable it was. So I decided that, if I do get married, I’ll be someone who puts comfort first, and then looks at her options for cut, colour, embroidery or jewellery,” says Gupta.

So, in case you do find yourself invited (otherwise, there’s always Instagram), don’t be surprised to see the most relaxed bride, dressed so comfortably that she’d be the envy of any married Indian woman. The idea, she says, is that a bride should “dress in a way that she can interact with people and have a good time herself.”

She’s also taken charge of the whole thing, and planned a non-fussy, non-extravagant celebration. “For me, three vacations is more value-for-money than a mandap with diamonds on it.”

True to her word, for her sangeet and reception, Gupta is ditching the norm of heavily designed lehengas and saris. “I didn’t go into that heavy, couture, bridal space. And I’m the kind of designer who wears works of other designers,” she says. So, her trousseau will have outfits by several other leading designers. “There are a few people who are great at doing certain things. Anamika [Khanna] is great at reception outfits. I can do a cool, quirky mehendi outfit. For a sangeet, somebody more in the Manish Arora or Shivan and Narresh kind of space,” she says.

The designer who’s always stood apart also seems keen to set an example. By not conforming to rules, Gupta wants to make a point. “I do want it to be about comfort, but I also want to change things up a bit. I want to set an example and say that you don’t need to wear a certain colour, a certain type of maang tika; your hair doesn’t have to look a particular way,” says the young designer.

Ask her if this is the (unconventional) dream wedding come true, and she laughs. “I never had a dream wedding. I’ve never visualised anything except clothes. Certainly not an elaborate wedding setup. See, I just don’t want to starve at my wedding. So, my dream wedding is one where I get to eat a meal while everyone else enjoys themselves as well.”

Masaba’s five-point guide to a chilled-out wedding

1) Get people to help out. If you try and look at every detail, you’re going to have a hard time. You may have a great input, but get people to do it for you.

2)People think you should shop for jewellery and clothes much in advance, but I think it should be done as close to the wedding as possible. You’ll have the latest stuff, and your taste might change over time. It’s best done around the wedding, so you don’t regret what you’ve bought.

3) Shoes are important. Make sure you’re in comfortable heels or flats, so you can survive the night.

4) Always test the make-up artist. Don’t just do a demo and leave it; test it through the day. See how the make-up behaves over a few hours, then you’ll know what it will actually be like, because it takes a couple of hours for make-up to set.

5) Receptions should start becoming more informal. You shouldn’t have to have the couple on stage smiling through the evening. I’ve heard of brides getting locked jaws. It’s absolute torture.

How to be the unconventional groom

• Fusion looks work well. If you’re wearing a Jodhpuri or a bandhgala, team it up with Jodhpuri pants. For men who are slimmer, suits do wonders.

• If you wish to be quirky and know you can carry it off, team dhoti pants and a shirt with a really formal blazer and a brooch.


• I love the cropped, ankle-length formal pants men are wearing now. It’s great for a reception.

• You don’t need to wear laced up shoes. Wear a nice slip-on in patent leather or a printed pair of shoes that stand out. So, you can make the whole look black and white, and have a nice pop shoe and make that the focus.

• Don’t be afraid of colours at your wedding. Get over navy blue, black or maroon. On a darker man, a haldi yellow kurta will look fantastic when teamed with an off-white or cream churidar. Even a soft pink in raw silk — it has a silver-pink shine — looks lovely.

How to be the ‘in vogue’ bride

• We’re seeing a lot of shapewear backs. Instead of the flared lehenga, women are opting for the fishtail cuts. Girls are also wearing shararas with big flares that almost look like a lehenga.

• Brides are going minimal. Go for less embellishment, and lighter lehengas.

• The dupatta is being ditched. Either that, or it’s attached. Much easier to handle.

• The choli is becoming more modest. People are wearing longer lengths, which are more fitted; the ‘60s style kurtas with shararas are also in. There’s more focus on the body and shape.

• I’m hoping the anarkali has died. It’s the worst of the lot. And it’s not very flattering. If you’re very skinny and tall, it works for you. If you’re short, you look like you’re lost in your outfit.

• Ditch the trail. At the end of the night, it’s a rag. It’s been stepped on and is *****.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/mermaid-trumpet-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses

NEW DELHI, INDIA: Rifling through sweaters in India’s first Gap store in a glitzy New Delhi mall, 21-year-old Ridhi Goel says her grandmother doesn’t mind how she dresses, as long as it’s not too revealing.

“She’s fine with me wearing Western clothes like a shirt but not jeans and a crop top,” said the journalism student, her grey leggings contrasting sharply with her mother’s colourful kurta.

Taking a stand for big brands

“All my family wears Indian clothes, but I find them too uncomfortable. I think maybe there is a generational divide.”

Most women in India still wear traditional dress such as saris or shalwar kameez — but the picture is changing, and on city streets, dazzling silks mingle with logoed T-shirts and jeans.

Young people’s appetite for Western clothes has led a fresh flurry of foreign brands to open up in India in the past few months, including US chain Gap and Sweden’s H&M.;

Others are expanding fast, including popular Spanish retailer Zara and British high-street staple Marks & Spencer, which in October opened its 50th shop in India, its biggest market outside the UK.

Fashion design outlets sealed for non-payment of taxes

Urbanisation, a growing middle class, rising disposable incomes and one of the youngest populations in the world make India hard to ignore.

“The time has come for Western wear to have exponential growth,” J. Suresh, the managing director of textile group Arvind Lifestyle Brands, Gap’s partner in India, told AFP.

“If you look at any girl born after 1990 she will be wearing Western wear. That is the generation coming into college, getting their first job,” he said. ”They will be completely clad in Western wear.”

While globally women are the biggest shoppers, in India men’s clothing dominates with 42 percent of the $38 billion market in 2014, according to consultancy Technopak.

Lucrative trade: Designers approach PRA in wake of fashion crackdown

Shoppers are also younger — the average customer targeted by Gap in its US stores is 35, but their Indian counterpart is five to 10 years younger, Suresh said.

Gap had a head start in India thanks to Bollywood megastar Shah Rukh Khan, whose ubiquitous orange hoodie in 1990s hit Kuch Kuch Hota Hai handed the brand a ready-made following.

But it is young Indian women, increasingly affluent and joining the workforce in expanding numbers, who are driving change, with data showing sales of womenswear growing faster than men’s.

And while Western clothes currently make up only about a quarter of Indian womenswear, their sales are outpacing traditional dress sales.

Experimental exhibition: Emerging artists explore unique mediums

A Marks & Spencer spokesperson cited its Indigo denim range and lingerie as two of its best-performing lines in India, with more than 300,000 bras sold in 2014-15.

“As an increasing number of women move into white collar and blue-collar roles, they are also adopting Western attire,” Devangshu Dutta, chief executive of Third Eyesight, a retail consultancy in Delhi, told AFP.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses

The one who is seen by you or the one who lives inside me?
Am I fake outside or inside?
How I seem to be is not who I am inside.
But then I pretend to be whom you desire.
I struggle or may be just pretend to be a perfect daughter, a perfect sister, a perfect wife, a perfect daughter in law, a perfect mother,
overall a woman that is considered to be a perfect woman by the society.
I don't want to wear Kurta Surwal,
I don't want to drape a shawl,
I don't want to wear a pote, neither I want to wear a Tika or chura.
But then I wear them all when I come in front of you.
You say it's a tradition, it's a culture and related to husband's lifespan
I don't believe these nonsense but I never let you know my dislikes rather I choose to pretend..........................

We are stopped for special checks
At TSA and immigration

We are murdered
In our house of worship
Six innocent lives lost
Oak Creek Gurdwara, 2012

Racial slurs hit our hearts:
*******
ISIS
Towel head

Out of fear
We stop wearing our beautiful salwar kameezes, lenghas, saris, and kurta pajamas
In colors and embroidery your clothes could only ever dream of
We take off our crowns you call turbans
And replace them with baseball caps

We think twice about speaking Punjabi,
Our mother tongue,
Around those that don't recognize it

We stop packing our grandma's handmade saag and roti
To school for lunch
And start eating
Processed Lunchables

We separate into two people
Our American selves
And our Punjabi selves
Almost never does anyone meet both

All because
You don't know
The difference
Between a Sikh and a terrorist

You probably saw her sometime, but
Didn't spare her more than a second look,
Demure girl, purple kurta-white salwar,
Quite routine, nothing out of the books.

Oh but I saw her, the true her,
Slender hands controlling a sturdy Enfield,
Salwar flapping wildly, freely against the wind.
Must admit, I couldn't stop looking!

When all the world is a giant burden,

Banerji sir, my colleague, a true SST Allen.

“Maan ki bat Modi ke Sath; rest other shun,”,

Says always my friend Banarji, never stun

Or stagger or startle, never remains barren.

Best friend who teaches Dhruvi and others Balkan,

Or India with psychology, without an apron.

Kenil, Hari, Bhavin, Shivani had some unban;

With Favourite dish of Dada, a fish; talks on Patan,

Sings hymns, buzzes about Mahakali one.

Says, “Your age is less than my profession.”

Scolds us, “Worst batch of year” – a Pun?

He is Bangali babu, wears dhoti, kurta even,

Talks about SST, and about doors wide open.

He is a Brahman, takes plausible action,

Wearing a chevron, is our Divine’s lion.

Meshwa, Diya, and Pitambar are clearly won,

With Aryan, Harsh, Nupur, Dishal and billion.

Let it be Shakespeare or Keats or Byron

He is through with all, has a great fortune.

Appreciates my Monorhyme and region

Never keeps quiet, but is pure bullion.

Dear to my students, Esha, Jeet or Rohan.

Prosper a lot is my wish, Oh! Aaron!

Part 1: The Gift

Everyday had become the same, gray canvas and painted in it,
The inspiration of lifeless eyes in a dead portrait;
In this endless pile of everydays, somewhere I felt the chains fall apart,
Her shadow touched upon the gray, still expressions start to become art.

Long I hadn't turned the way,
The little path gleams, tucked away from familiar sounds and passing cars;
Lost in clever grasses, where a fragrance rests and sunlight falls,
In soft gold streaks, between the trees;
There's magic there,
It lays its silver dust upon the ordinary of passing days.

I was an old Peter Pan,
I'd moved on into the crowd;
But then, from within her deep brown eyes,
I felt a little magic pierce inside;
And before I knew, I watched my concrete world,
Laden with a thin snowfall of silver dust.

There was late an evening at her home,
An open window let in the sky, and between us,
My feelings, unstated, wrapped the quiet like a silken stole;
We listened together, Loreena Mckennit's high-pitched voice sang the dead lover's tune -

"Her eyes grew wide for a moment,
She drew one last deep breath;
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight...
Shattered her breast in the moonlight
And warned him - with her death."

I had felt the song a plenty times,
But I watched it now stream upon her, huddled in a yellow wool jacket,
And drip into her soul, behind closed eyes.

There, as the night raced by, the plan fell upon me like a flash;
It was ten nights to her birthday, February the 7th,
Ten nights I would make her a gift.

Office mornings passed like a dream,
Her hair a cascade, the touch of those eyes -
The excitement of that dark bottle perfume on a moonlit date;
And a bright bulb glowed late hours,
I painted in silence her favorite lines;
One page a night,
Visioning in color, Alfred Noyes' that timeless tale.

The green sketchbook had waited these empty years,
Waited in dust for a spark in dead wires and a deep brown smile;
10 pages of dark and red, and the 11th would be mine,
A rainbow across a clear blue sky,
And below it, my heart poured in two white lines -

"Here's something beautiful to think of. We have a lifetime ahead of us to be by each other's side and chase dreams together."

Part 2: February 6

I woke up early to a broken spell,
The winter sky had faded, my window let in the clear warmth of spring;
10 pages done - today I carried a rainbow heart;
Nerves jangled, and a tear drop rolled,
Alone a witness to a numb vessel's flickering hope.

Like every morning I waited,
Our corner of the cafeteria was bathed in sunshine glow;
Here we shared that one cup of tea, and spilled random conversations,
That I mostly lost in her eyes;
I watched her walk towards me,
Yellow kurta, and the bright morning's charm, caught in a smile.

And then came the blow.

Her words that morning - how could I lose?
Her words that morning fell like ice on the rainbow,
And spread upon the freeze like the veins of a crack.

'I like him,' she said, 'the boy who sits across the room,
I like him, and I haven't told anyone yet,
I thought I'd first trust you.'

I don't know how I held that cup of tea and my eyes stood still,
For I lay before her, shattered on the floor.

A lifetime of repression was rehearsal,
Now was the stage and I played my part;
The trauma of her words seeped into my blood,
It imploded like a black hole inside - no form, no sound, no violence,
Just distilled, irrepressible force;
The pressure screamed, but all outlets held,
A tear touched my eyes, and in two blinks I swallowed it back.

Did she notice? She was endearing, absorbed in the boy,
Who asked her out on her new year night,
To bring in this springing rivulet of joy.

Alone that night, empty the 11th page stared up at me,
I could not think of the rainbow, as I wondered first how does a dead man breathe;
As the dark grew deep, my heart turned into a noose with nails inside,
If I could only paint that instead,
With happiness hung upon it, dripping blood down its still legs.

No!
Somehow, could I finish this rainbow - her rainbow,
If only somehow my hands didn't shake,
And this cry would stop so that I may concentrate;
I looked at my phone, the dreaded clock never stops,
It was 12, and it read, as it were, the 7th of February.

Part 3: The Birthday

She opened the door, bright eyes of delight;
'Happy birthday', and the present I handed her, wrapped in deep yellow gift paper;
'Don't open it now', I whispered, 'you'll never guess'.

I did not stay long, I feigned a sickness,
But as I walked back,
I imagined how she would open the yellow paper, and find that green sketchbook inside.

I knew how her eyes would turn upon the painted lines,
This was not a gift of paintings, she would know -
These were 10 pages of my soul;
And upon the 11th page she would find,
The seven colors of light upon a clear blue morning,
And below it, words painted in white -
"A life I wish you, as bright as the rainbow sky."

As a kid,
Playing and prancing
With a blue bloon,

I tied joys
To the end of kurta

With the belief
They would be with me

Till my play is over.

Like sugar
They melted and then mingled
In the dusty air.

A lesson I learnt:
Joys have no property.
When we smile
They are along with us.