“We Said Yes—Then the World Shut Down”
It all started with a big, shiny YES on 31st August 2019—officially kicking off our “Certified Lovebirds” courtship period.
And then? Oh boy. Enter the Great Indian Planning Olympics.
We were suddenly full-time professionals in “Future Discussions Pvt. Ltd.”—talking life goals, Shaadi ka budget, shopping lists longer than Ramayan, and making spreadsheets for what to arrange and what to avoid like the plague in the wedding.
Now, let me tell you—we had these revolutionary, modern plans. You know: minimal guest list, sensible expenses, maybe even some personal vows instead of 12 pandits chanting together on megaphones. And the best part? Both of us had synchronized brains about it.
But the families? Aha! Typical hardcore Baniya DNA in full 4K.
Their dream wedding was a proper North Indian Extravaganza™, complete with 100+ guests who would have no clue whose wedding it is, a buffet that could feed a small country, and decor that could blind the sun.
It took master-level negotiations, UN-level diplomacy, and a bit of emotional blackmail (because “hum bhi unke hi bachche hain, bhai”) to convince them to downscale their grand dreams by just a tiny bit.
After all, that “Ziddi-pan” (stubbornness)? We learned it from them only. Finally came in handy!
So yeah—we managed. Sort of. The families got a mini-Kumbh Mela instead of a full Kumbh Mela, and we got our sanity (mostly) intact.
Our Story: From Wedding Bells to Lockdown Woes
The day finally arrived: 11th February 2020—a date etched in our memories forever. We tied the knot in a close-knit ceremony with about 45 guests from my side and roughly 100 from hers. It might sound like a decent crowd, but trust me—it was a dramatically pruned-down affair, considering what a traditional Bania wedding usually looks like (think 1000+ people, brass bands, elephants if you can afford them!).
Getting to that day was a marathon of convincing both families. Let's just say we didn't just plan a wedding—we ran a diplomatic mission. The details of those negotiations and the heroic level of compromise it took to make it happen are for another blog (go read that one if you want the spicy behind-the-scenes!).
But we did it. We got married. We were over the moon, ready to begin this new chapter together.
And then... the world began to end.
Or at least it felt like it.
Right after our wedding, news of a strange virus was making headlines. COVID. A word we'd never heard before suddenly started sounding like a death knell for plans of any kind. But we'd already booked our honeymoon in Kerala, and we were determined to go—because honestly, after the wedding stress, we needed it.
By then, Kerala had reported its first few COVID patients. We didn't panic, but flying with masks felt dystopian. Still, it wasn't as bad as it would later get. We followed the protocols, shrugged off the tension, and let Kerala's beauty soothe us.
We spent 8–10 glorious days exploring Kochi, Munnar, Kalpetta, Kumarakom. Backwaters. Tea estates. Misty hills. Sunset boat rides. We squeezed out every drop of romance before reality dragged us back. We returned on 22nd February, thinking life would go back to normal.
Normal. Ha.
We had about six days together before the first big blow: Neha had to leave for Bhopal to rejoin her job. Her transfer was “in process”—but you know how that goes. I dropped her at the airport on 29th February. Watching her walk away was gut-wrenching. She didn’t want to go. I promised I’d come to Bhopal soon.
And I kept my word.
I reached Bhopal on 7th March to spend a few precious days with her. It was Holi on 10th March—a happy, colorful pause in the stress. We celebrated with family, forgetting for a day what was brewing in the world.
During that visit, we were invited to an event where we met the local Collector. We were being felicitated for organizing a single-use plastic–free wedding—a small personal mission that we'd actually pulled off. That moment felt like a medal for all the battles we'd fought to have the kind of wedding we wanted.
But I had to return. On 11th March, I left for Mumbai. Neither of us knew that our real challenges hadn’t even begun yet.
22nd March.
The Prime Minister announced a one-day “Janata Curfew” on Sunday. It was the first time we'd ever heard the word “curfew” used like that. We thought—okay, one day, no big deal. It’s just a trial.
We stayed in, did as instructed. Naïvely optimistic.
Then came 24th March.
Boom.
A 21-day nationwide lockdown.
Just like that. No precedents. No real warning.
Our parents had never seen anything like it in their lifetimes. Neither had we. It felt like the world stopped turning.
We were stuck in different cities. I was in Mumbai, working from home. Neha had an essential job, which meant she still had to go to the office in Bhopal—mask on, sanitizer in pocket, every day feeling like Russian roulette.
We made plans over calls. We promised each other we'd stay strong. And we waited.
When the first 21-day lockdown ended, there was cautious relaxation in travel rules. Enough for us to grab the chance.
I didn’t waste a second. I booked Neha's ticket to Mumbai.
The day she landed was like reopening the window after months in the dark. We had a few days together. It wasn't forever—but it was something.
She eventually had to go back to Bhopal for work. But that visit reminded us: pandemics, lockdowns, and closed borders couldn’t really keep us apart.
Looking back now, it was a bizarre, frightening, yet strangely meaningful start to our married life. Our first year wasn't about fancy parties, endless shopping, or home décor. It was about learning to be apart when all you wanted was to be together. It was about video calls at 2 a.m., planning groceries like a military operation, worrying about each other's safety with every news update.
And it taught us this:
Love doesn’t need grand gestures. It needs patience, hope, and the ability to hold on—even if only over the phone.
We didn’t just survive the wedding planning. We survived a pandemic—together. Even when we were apart.
And that, I think, is the real marriage.
But wait—this was just the beginning.
The pandemic’s shadow was only starting to spread, and we weren’t even in the same city.
It was tough—really tough. Our entire marriage lived on calls, texts, and late-night video chats. Every day felt like borrowed time, with no promise of when we’d be able to close the distance for good.
We had no idea how long this would last—or how much it would change us.
Because what happened next?
Was unimaginable.
We found ourselves locked down in separate worlds. No warning, no manual for how to be newlyweds in the middle of a global crisis.
We never thought this would happen to us.
But it did.
And it would test us in ways we couldn’t have predicted.
Our story was about to take a turn we never saw coming.
Stay tuned—for what came next was not just about surviving a lockdown, but about redefining what it truly meant to be together, even when the world was pulling us apart.
(To be continued...)
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