Oh boy, we’re growing up
My friend’s getting married & I have my first invite
And so marriages will turn differently now,
I’d attend one without mum or dad by my side,
I’ll walk in & know the faces I see, ask them truly how they’ve been,
and we’ll all sit & talk, us adults in our Kurta Pyjama, we’d dance,
and we adults’ll sit & talk more as we eat,
in a large hall with other talking old people,
then there’d be pictures, on the floor, on the stage,
loads of pictures I’d be happy to be, and oh, how important!
I’ll know the bride, Ekta!
I’ll want the pictures of me standing with all of us by her side,
I could get tears when she begins to cry,
And then, after all is over and the talk & laugh & cry settles down,
next time I visit her home, she’ll not be there,
and I wouldn’t have to ask where she is. Only,
oddly, how is she.