A sad horse. A more sad guy on the horse. Bright lights. Sweaty men dancing on loud filmy songs on the street. Ladies wearing more gold than with the RBI. Smell of cologne in the air. Old women with 'dholak' singing songs which no one understands. Spending forty minutes in the cosmetic store to find the lipstick to perfectly match the color of the saree. Welcome to 'The great Indian wedding. Its one of the most extraordinary things I see in this funny world. I dont know how weddings take place in Southern India or some other parts. But i guess the weddings there are simple and perfectly human.
But attending a typical north Indian wedding leaves me pretty gasping and shaken. It takes couple of days to feel like eating after attending a wedding. My Uncle's son ,who allegedly failed twice in class X and now runs coaching center for kids is getting married. My first move is to protest.
Me with *ready-to-suicide-look* to parents: I dont wanna go. All that noise. All that lights. All those plastic smiles people.
Parents with *ready-to-kill-look* to me: you have to grow up (complan?). And if you dont go, who will care to attend your wedding ?
*note - Looks like my parents really want a lot of people to attend my wedding ,if it happens. So I will send out cards to all of you. Please turn up. Get along your families , neighbours ,old classmates , school principal , tailor , postman , milkman , anyone. Just build a HUGE crowd.*
So I have to go to that uncle's son wedding. The D day dawns. The day when a man and wife would promise to tolerate each other and throw things at each other and spy on each other for the rest of their lives and a day when a few hundred fools, including me, would cheer this amazing moment by eating a lot.The 'baraat' is to assemble near "something something Public School" and would proceed towards the "Bla Bla farmhouse" where the bride and her battalion would be waiting. I reach the spot near "something something public school". Fat ladies with thick lipsticks, jewellery enough to pull down a weak man to the ground , half inch makeup layers. Big fat men. Loud laughs. Ill fitting suits. Hair swept back. Cellphones in hand. Young girls looking like cosmetic showrooms. Now being from the groom's side, I have to be a part of this "Baraat".
Now this is the most depressing part. The groom is made to sit on a horse. In the 21st century ,with people zooming along in luxury cars, this guy sits on a "count-my-ribs"type horse brought on rent. Infact a female horse. A 'ghodi' in hindi. Whats that called in english ? A horsess ? (haha sorry i dont know) And a huge "Bunty Band" which starts beating drums and blowing trumpets. And they are super sonic loud.LOUD. So loud that even Obama in the White House would know that the 'Baraat' is started from "Something Something Public School".Real Loud. And the fat aunties and the fat uncles and the pretty girls and the young guys slowly start to slip into the area before the animal(ghodi) carrying the poor guy. They start with shaking sheepishly but before the poor animal knows whats happening, they explode into highly physical vibrations. All the loud band and the dancing people and the guy on the top of him makes the animal shit twice on his way to the farmhouse.
We reach the farmhouse. My parents get busy with all the friends. The dancing party breaks up and promptly attacks the snacks area. I grab one cold drink and look around. Soon people are pushing and falling over food. Looks like a Flood relief camp. One of my aunt introduces me to a girl of my age who is preparing for BTech.
Me *end-to-boredom-relief-expression*: "Hi, Im Anuj."
She *dollar-dreams-expression*: "Hi.How did you prepare for BTech?"
Me *not-again-expression*: I jumped off a Punjabi bagh flyover. That really helps. Try it." (Mujhse to ese puch rahi hai jese maine IIT clear kara tha with 1st rank)
She *confused*: "Eh..he he..um..joke?"
Middle aged ladies keep coming to me and ruffling my hair.
Middle aged lady : "Recognise me beta?"
Me ( thinking to myself): She looks like Mayawati.
Me ( smiling to her) : "Aishwarya Rai?"
Middle Aged Lady (slapping my arm real hard) :"he he he...you wont change ever."
And everyone puts effort for grabbing ice creams and soups from waiters goes on and on and on till the guy and the girl put mala (whats that call in english?) around each other necks and go around a burning stove 7 times. Finally the girl leaves crying on every shoulder around and it is time for me to go home.
A genuinely stupid and tiring day. We get home,unlock the main gate and I habitually check the mailbox before getting in. Aha,there is something in there. A wedding invitation card. Thapar uncle's son who as a kid, stole eggs from the departmental store and is a cop now ,is getting married. Wedding after a week. My esteemed presence on this auspicious occasion is requested. Ahhh......Life is B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.
But attending a typical north Indian wedding leaves me pretty gasping and shaken. It takes couple of days to feel like eating after attending a wedding. My Uncle's son ,who allegedly failed twice in class X and now runs coaching center for kids is getting married. My first move is to protest.
Me with *ready-to-suicide-look* to parents: I dont wanna go. All that noise. All that lights. All those plastic smiles people.
Parents with *ready-to-kill-look* to me: you have to grow up (complan?). And if you dont go, who will care to attend your wedding ?
*note - Looks like my parents really want a lot of people to attend my wedding ,if it happens. So I will send out cards to all of you. Please turn up. Get along your families , neighbours ,old classmates , school principal , tailor , postman , milkman , anyone. Just build a HUGE crowd.*
So I have to go to that uncle's son wedding. The D day dawns. The day when a man and wife would promise to tolerate each other and throw things at each other and spy on each other for the rest of their lives and a day when a few hundred fools, including me, would cheer this amazing moment by eating a lot.The 'baraat' is to assemble near "something something Public School" and would proceed towards the "Bla Bla farmhouse" where the bride and her battalion would be waiting. I reach the spot near "something something public school". Fat ladies with thick lipsticks, jewellery enough to pull down a weak man to the ground , half inch makeup layers. Big fat men. Loud laughs. Ill fitting suits. Hair swept back. Cellphones in hand. Young girls looking like cosmetic showrooms. Now being from the groom's side, I have to be a part of this "Baraat".
Now this is the most depressing part. The groom is made to sit on a horse. In the 21st century ,with people zooming along in luxury cars, this guy sits on a "count-my-ribs"type horse brought on rent. Infact a female horse. A 'ghodi' in hindi. Whats that called in english ? A horsess ? (haha sorry i dont know) And a huge "Bunty Band" which starts beating drums and blowing trumpets. And they are super sonic loud.LOUD. So loud that even Obama in the White House would know that the 'Baraat' is started from "Something Something Public School".Real Loud. And the fat aunties and the fat uncles and the pretty girls and the young guys slowly start to slip into the area before the animal(ghodi) carrying the poor guy. They start with shaking sheepishly but before the poor animal knows whats happening, they explode into highly physical vibrations. All the loud band and the dancing people and the guy on the top of him makes the animal shit twice on his way to the farmhouse.
We reach the farmhouse. My parents get busy with all the friends. The dancing party breaks up and promptly attacks the snacks area. I grab one cold drink and look around. Soon people are pushing and falling over food. Looks like a Flood relief camp. One of my aunt introduces me to a girl of my age who is preparing for BTech.
Me *end-to-boredom-relief-expression*: "Hi, Im Anuj."
She *dollar-dreams-expression*: "Hi.How did you prepare for BTech?"
Me *not-again-expression*: I jumped off a Punjabi bagh flyover. That really helps. Try it." (Mujhse to ese puch rahi hai jese maine IIT clear kara tha with 1st rank)
She *confused*: "Eh..he he..um..joke?"
Middle aged ladies keep coming to me and ruffling my hair.
Middle aged lady : "Recognise me beta?"
Me ( thinking to myself): She looks like Mayawati.
Me ( smiling to her) : "Aishwarya Rai?"
Middle Aged Lady (slapping my arm real hard) :"he he he...you wont change ever."
And everyone puts effort for grabbing ice creams and soups from waiters goes on and on and on till the guy and the girl put mala (whats that call in english?) around each other necks and go around a burning stove 7 times. Finally the girl leaves crying on every shoulder around and it is time for me to go home.
A genuinely stupid and tiring day. We get home,unlock the main gate and I habitually check the mailbox before getting in. Aha,there is something in there. A wedding invitation card. Thapar uncle's son who as a kid, stole eggs from the departmental store and is a cop now ,is getting married. Wedding after a week. My esteemed presence on this auspicious occasion is requested. Ahhh......Life is B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.
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