Somewhere in Rawalpindi there is a seven-day affair and you have begun choosing your attire accordingly. It’s your mother’s cousin’s fraternal aunt’s sister in law’s wedding. And suddenly she’s very close family. If you are a local then this is your chance to make your mother’s aunt’s daughter in law’s neighbour’s teenage daughter look bad. Yes, she will be present too. Phone calls will fly across the globe and emails will go faster than CIA can tap them. If you were smarter you may have already searched up the potential groom on facebook. You will take a temporary job as an investigator and dig out the amount of his pay, his employer and maybe even, if he likes Atif Aslam better or Himesh Reshammiya. If he’s an NRP (Non-Resident Pakistani, because we copy everything from India including its terminology) he better prove it with his accent. If he says he’s from Canada but talks like he’s from Australia, he’s really from Sargodha. There will be a manja, at least two dholkis, a mehndi, the niqah, a reception and valima (after reception). There will be relatives from Islamabad flaunting their ‘new’ Deepak Parwani clothes, which have been circulating around the family for the last six months, worn by anyone who will fit. There will be Lahoris who will easily be set apart from the others, because they will not be found in the wedding hall. They’ll be in the food tent. There will be Karachittes who will act like they have arrived from a whole different country altogether. The residents from Defence Housing Authority will be difficult to communicate with, since Urdu and Hindi is still foreign for them. You will have the most trouble telling apart from Quettan guests and peeps from Pakhtoonkhwa (formerly North Frontier). The ones with naswar (local narcotic) and little boys are Pakhtoonis. If you weren’t invited at all, your entire generation has been severely insulted; even if you hadn’t even known the couple existed. By now as days get closer you have harassed your embroidery worker, cursed your jewellery designers and raped your tailor. But everything will be prepared in time, if you’re lucky then two hours prior to the event. The wedding venue will range from Pearl Continental Hotel to tents. The bigger, the better. Here you will meet relatives you never knew existed, and you wonder why in the world so many people have arrived, and so much food, and so much of everything. Four hours into the wedding you’re hungry. Finally the bride arrives but you fail to recognize her under her makeup. It looks like she got ‘gangbanged by Crayola,’ the old expression comes back. An hour later the groom arrives fresh from Toni’s Hair Salon with arched eyebrows. It turns out he’s your father’s cousins’ husband’s best friend’s younger brother. Just when you were beginning to feel like its 1985 in Ethiopia, the food arrives. Rich in oil and fat but taste, you forget all about your recent commitment to healthy eating. After it is all over, you will have a collection of pictures in different poses, lots of criticism and even a belly pouch. But most of all you have picked up some wedding tips for yourself, it turns out your mother found you a good rishta at the wedding reception. Now it’s your turn.