A doctor who is a nose -sniffing man marries another doctor who is not nose-sniffing.
(“A nose-sniffing man” is so much easier to pronounce than an anesthetist)
We are now here, listening to the wedding chatter as though we are on the operation table and consequently, are in a dream .
The sounds of the chatter reach the high ceiling and come down to meet us on our plastic chairs in a stream of indistinguishable buzz.
The nose-sniffing doctor sits on the stage with the non-nose-sniffing doctor with a curtain between them and a middleman priest calling down gods in Sanskrit.
You see ,we are in a morphine-induced dream and are lying on an operation table undergoing surgery.
Our nose-sniffing man has sent us into our dream and in our dream we wake up only to find that he is sitting by the side reading Kamasutra.
But actually he is going through strange motions with the other doctor who is his bride.
The middleman priest is invoking gods for him and is making him circum-ambulate the smoking fire seven times.
Thereby the union of both the doctors is solemnized and we can now safely reach for our food plates in the basement hall.