I was also near doubled in pain with a sophisticated tongue twisting named gut infection. I could barely lift my head and wasn't sure if from the fever, the anti-biotic injections or the other plethora of coloured pills and potions I was made to ingest, I was certainly `Rip Van Winkle' material.

I had hallucinations, mumbled with forked tongue, and my anguished, perturbed, fever induced tossing and turning was akin to a marooned ship sinking rapidly in eddying, deep, treacherous waters, rolling from starboard to port, mast akimbo. They say that a near death experience causes one to have all of one's life flash by frame by frame. I voyeuristically watched, only to get convinced that `Yama', the God of Death, stood but a few feet away.

The morosethoughts coupled with the fever cycles made me a wreck. I was hit by waves of `I am worthless', `no one cares about me', `let me die' lows to bouts of crying, real tear jerk syndrome. It felt like a monsoon rain cloud, slowly downloading, as the tears snaked down my face, it set me off on another self pitying paroxysm.

Dear oh Dear! The Victorians would have had the poultice's and smelling salts out before I could have muttered `Hennessy'.

Being so ill I missed out on most of Akshay and Aparna Chudasama's wedding functions. The Piano Bar, the Drawing Room, all the pre-wedding functions I missed completely but finally when the `D' day dawned I was in true blue form. On the Monday, the Regal Room looked resplendent, the bride a vision that blended youth's own purity and innocence with an inner joy and rapture.

Akshay, my friend, looked a true white knight ready to dash his lady love off to `Bali' on a white charger -- Oh Joyous Day! Oh wondrous moment when a man takes his betrothed to be his lawful weddedwife. The magic of it all but how quickly the day goes by, how little one gets to truly enjoy one's own special day.

Flashback to my own marriage, done Kerala style at the Crystal Room almost 18 years ago. The time of the muhurtam was 7.15 am, yes am, and the day before had been my birthday, so Rajan and I celebrated till five in the morning, from then on dozens of pairs of hands bathed, anointed, dressed and bejeweled me to sleep walk to the Taj and the `Mandap'. A Kerala wedding takes only 10 minutes in all. I looked like a shy helpless, I-don't-know-what-to-do `babe', but in truth all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep.

The incense, flowers, mridhangam, nadeswaram, paddy in urlis, the family and our love, ensured that I played my part and we were married in the mandatory 10 minutes.

Flash to present, Arjun Mehra, the charming best man, had kindly escorted me to wish the couple. We jumped the queue by joining Yash and Avanti Birla who were almost there. I mingled andticked off the who's who and what-they're-wearing checklist in my head. That was an exercise of sorts as Nana and Munira are well loved in the city and everyone but everyone was there. After the reception Khalid Ansari hosted the Rooparels, Mithas, Choksi's, Gautam Thakkar and I at the Bombay Gym in what turned out to be a light fun evening.

The next day Poonam Bhagat hosted a Champagne brunch at the Sea Lounge to bid `Adieu' to the honeymooning `darlings'. We tried every snack on the menu and then some, quaffed bottles of the green stuff (Dom!) with the `barefaced' panache of veterans' and looked over at the Gateway of India, wishing the silk route traders would waltz by peddling their wares and take us for a spin down memory lane. Alas, all good things have to come to an end but we went on, Sheetal and I, to a Baby shower. What a cute idea! It's only just picking up in Bombay but Sharukh Engineer and his gorgeous eight-month pregnant wife, Pinky, were oh! so charming to entertain and feed us yet again. Ihad a terrific time, though normally the thought of 60 clacking women would have me well clear of the chicken coop.

That evening I had the audacity to accept two dinners. Sanjeev Choudhary, our dear desi Canadian Vice Council, generously hosted a small bash to bring in Achala Sachdev and Arjun Khanna's pre-pubescent 12th birthday.

No, jokes apart, we had every one go so coy on age that I felt like the Loch Ness monster and the long in the tooth cow rolled into one. The Real McCoy? I always maintain that to fudge your age you have to give up the year, two or three in totto, that you must be prepared to actually lose everything you learnt experienced and imbibed in the said year. Just the thought of behaving like one had Alzheimer's & Parkinson's together, has me stick to the truth all the time.

For a `never say die girl' I was on my roller blades come 11.30 to join Aroon Purie, Rashmi Udaysingh, Mohini Bhullar, Prahlad with cigar and cowboy hat, his wife, Chander, Anish, Vineeta, Suchi, Andrew,Mel and others at the Oriental Blossom for a delicious second dinner.

When you have a `foodie' like Rashmi on the table, the staff do the hoola-hoola and hoopla where the food and service go, it was top notch.

The conversation hovered like a marital helicopter over the Clinton and Murdoch marriages before lifting off into other realms -- Different Strokes for Different Folks as the saying goes -- Marriages, Birthdays are milestones in our life just as surely as Death is.

While we were mouthing trivialities, that evening, Bombay lost two of it's daughter's, path breaking, `live and let live' gals, the best from this half of the century -- Persis & Protima. May their souls rest in peace and may the Lord protect and bless them, they were one of us, we will miss them -- R.I.P.