A wedding is a hundred journeys nobody remembers and three that everybody does. The house takes the hundred off the family’s hands: who lands when, who is staying where, which elder cannot climb into an SUV, which cousin always needs fetching at one in the morning. One list reaches the house; each guest is told by name which car is theirs and when; one sarathi holds the whole plan and the family makes one call, not thirty.
Guests from other cities and abroad met inside arrivals with a board in their name, the flight tracked, the wait inside the figure, driven to the hotel or the house. The house sends each guest the car and the sarathi the evening before, so nobody stands at a kerb wondering.
The Innova Crysta and Hycross for the family through the days; the Carnival for a family and its cases; a car kept at the venue for the elders who should go home when they wish, not when the last song ends.
Mehendi, sangeet, the wedding, the morning after. Cars reserved for the days stay with the family, written as one figure with the sarathis’ hours inside it. Night journeys run on the after-dark order without being asked.
Inside every written figure: the car, your sarathi, fuel, every toll, parking at both ends and GST. Nothing is added on the day, and no meter runs.
Send the house the guest list with arrivals, the hotels and the venues; a person replies with the cars, the sarathis and one figure for the plan. Half holds the cars, the balance is settled seventy-two hours before the first journey. On the days, one sarathi is the family’s on WhatsApp from the first car to the last, and every guest has a number that answers.
The bridal and the groom’s cars are written on the same sheet and have a page of their own.
Send the house the guest listArrivals, hotels, venues, days. The figure follows in writing.