It was a simple affair, exactly as Rishi had desired. Only the
closest family and friends in his favourite Krishna temple to witness his
wedding to the lovely Sharmila were invited. His parents had arranged the match
and he had met Sharmila informally in a cafe. He had communicated his
willingness the same evening, but Sharmila's family had taken some time to
respond, citing her professional commitments and travel as reasons for being
unable to decide quickly. After the informal 'fixing' of the wedding too, her
parents had preferred to conduct the wedding right away instead of delaying the
actual event with a 'meaningless engagement'. "Can we have a simple
wedding but a grand reception as we are going at breakneck speed," her
father had asked politely, much to Rishi's mother's dissatisfaction. "We
didn't ask for the wedding to be rushed! He is an only son, so we would like to
call our relatives..." she had insisted.
We decided we needed to make space in our house and optimise the use of existing shelves. It began with segregating clothes, into:
1. What we will definitely wear
2. What we wear every other day but should not because - yes, the cloth is soft and it was beautiful when we got it, but now it is beyond recognition and must absolutely be thrown
3. Grand, but sorry, too itchy, dazzling and not the kind we would wear ever though it looks brand new.
It was the March of 2050. He felt as good as new. "Medical technology is amazing," he told his friends. "You must try it. In fact, there is an app that tells you the condition of your organs, whom to contact, and even fixes an appointment with specific doctors who have the right equipment. They scan you, find you a match, grow new organs and replace old ones. That's it! That part is good to run for another fifty years!" he said.