Sunday 8 January 2012

The BIG FAT INDIAN WEDDING!!


                                                      THE BIG FAT INDIAN WEDDING





                       The matrimonial season has just passed by, and I have been a keen observer. Marriage ceremonies are a naturally creepy place, especially if you’re on neither side. Neither the bride, nor the groom. You’re just an unfamiliar acquaintance of one of the two bankrupt families. You’re there possibly for having been a neighbour who has been forbearing with loud tv noises, the incessant parties, the unnerving noise of deranged children, etc. Or maybe you’re someone who is important to the family. Financially, that is. Such a jargon includes the boss and similar contortions. A  free dinner is just a way to payback. And the Indian family loves such reimbursements. So Im the third party here.  The  I-went-only-for-food party. And this is a first person account of such an experience.


                     As always we reached an hour and a half late for the ceremony, deliberately. We didn’t want to be early and just sit there waiting eagerly for the food to be served. If we reached late, we could just hop on to dinner area and collect oodles of calories, enough to sustain a whole Punjabi colony for a week. It seemed prudent. As we enter, everyone slips into their own mindset. The man wishes for a tipple and some company to go along with it. If he gets both, his acquaintance with the matrimony has been successful. Teens, especially guys, set up their ogling eye cameras. All they want is some real good action, if you know what I mean. Women, including girls, are there for the sole purpose of uncluttered narcissism. All they want to do is to astound the other members of the gender and to state the fact  “I would look better than you on any given day”. The very conversation between any two women is a testimony of the stated fact.   “Where did you buy this sari from?” one would ask.  “Kanjivaram,  pure silk.  My brother got it for me, from some very expensive place in Bombay. He is very hi-fi you know.”  The hypocrite would   answer. “You’re so lucky, I tell you, Sharma Ji. I have no one in Bombay. Most of my relatives are settled abroad you see.” After some more such counterattacks, the first woman would head back to a dear friend and holler, “That Mrs. Sharma I tell you, is such a hypocrite. She lies about a kanjivaram in front of me. I have more kanjivaram saris than her whole clan would have ever acquired. Moreover, that’s not even 10% silk. “  The confidante would concur  “ I always knew this, Preeto ji. I told you before na. She’s an imposter I tell you.” Thank god for kitty parties, women always have someone to concur their bull shit. Now before all matriarchial societies hatch a plan to kill me, let me move on to other viewpoints. The bride and the groom arrive for the carnage. They look at each other. The look is different in an arranged marriage, from that in a love marriage. In a love marriage, the guy is forever winking away at the partner, completely naïve to the adversity he is getting himself into. The girl is busy contemplating  “I hope he remains interested.” However, in an arranged marriage, the guy upon ogling all the females around, cries out in vain. “Why in hell did I not choose that one. Why, Lord why” . Every other living female seems satisfactory that night. Meanwhile, people walk up to congratulate the couple, with their mammoth dinner plates. Each plate enough to satisfy a pack of hungry wolves.


Moving on to the families involved in the matrimony. The boy’s family, having spent much less is the king of the jungle, that night. They are the ones to dance to every godforsaken tune that the DJ plays, the ones who make most of the merry making. Everyone among them knows that their jackass groom didn’t deserve such a goddess. On the contrary, the girl’s family is busy contemplating about all the dwindling resources they would have been left of, after having spent much much more than they had calculated. The calculations done are always a minimum.


                           Then arrives the time of the “bidaai”. In your whole lives, you wont ever notice such an assembly of lament. If you do, you probably are a victim of some great natural disaster or you’re the Indian kid who hasn’t scored well in school. Such is the intensity. Everyone mourns, from the brides’ family, there and then.  To the groom, in the longer run.  Its like an endless wave of relentless wailing. The guy tries to console the blubbering woman, but to no effect. He inquires “Why are you crying so much. It’s fine.” “You wont understand.” pat comes the reply. And thus begin the never-ending “you wont understand” ’s in the life of the married Indian male.  They reach home, some snogging etc. from the male settles down the sour temper for the female. This is what we are best at, always. Meanwhile, the third party members, head back home much before the catastrophic misery of the bidaai strikes. On the way back, we discuss how great the food was. How great the couple looked, each of them still anonymous to us. On reaching home, everyone would doze off while the good-for-nothing son would pull out his laptop and write a stupid article about the whole event. :P


P.S.  This is not meant to hurt any community or gender or degrade the dignity of nuptials.


However, resemblance to any particular marriage ceremony is NOT purely coincidental ;)




REWIN KOUL

Wednesday 21 December 2011

The Journey So Far......


Five. Three to go. Or maybe two. What a journey its turning out to be. I wish there wasn’t a destination. I wish it could just go on and on.  I wish it always stays as beautiful as this. I am in a way jumping to corollary of what I want to convey through this write up. Lets start from the start.

College. This very word brings a blissful smile to the faces of many. I still remember the first day. The rain is its reminiscence. Not a single familiar face to start a conversation with, but still feeling the warmth of a chummy surrounding. Many of them would go on to become great friends, some just acquaintances, some you would hate, some you would hate to love. The first year, it basically is a complete fresher’s year. You have absolutely no idea what you’re getting into. You just flow in the drift. You’re the proletarian wanting to be an expert. You’re a nobody, in the ever agonizing pursuit of being a somebody. Of being a known figure. The first year is pretty much it. It whooshes by. Unnoticed, uncared for. 

Being a sophomore involves receiving unprecedented importance. You are the immediate senior. You fill yourself to the brim, with pride of having passed out the first year, without much harm. A sense of narcissism starts to settle in. The freshers hold a significant contribution in that. The third year people resonate the “been there done that” feeling. You finally realize that there is a lot you can do in college apart from getting bored and bunking lectures. You get into the groove. Meet new people, make a lot of friends, find out what you can really be good at in your college life. To me the second year is the most significant phase of a college life. Whatever you do then, you will probably do that for the most part of your college life. For me, its been my music and socializing with a lot of people. And believe me, its paying off well. College is a sort of second home. You are no longer a nobody. One can get into whatever he/she wants to get into. All doors are open for you. The ones that aren’t you barge into them, college provides that independence.  

The third year is just a sort of an up gradation to the second. Better opportunities, better life. You finally are experienced enough to choose what is right and what is wrong in college. You also finally realize get to know who your true friends are. The last two years are a great aid in asserting that. Also a sense of completeness starts to sink in. One starts to feel that time is running out, and that’s why this year generally turns out to be the best. One does only those things that matter the most. Things that fetch joy and eternal bliss.

One other very eminent part of college is that one gets to learn about himself. About who he/she really is, what makes us most happy, what we are best at. This is something that helps us for the rest of our lives. College is one place where you can be whatever you be, and you thus become only what you really want to be. It leaves a deep imprint on your life. Something you can never forget about yourself. That s why almost everyone you know will emphasize on the fact “These four years of college will the best of your life” This is mostly because after college, we join the rat-race. We dive into things that will help earn us money, and guarantee a safe , well-to-do lifestyle. But generally it will lack the intrinsic happiness we experience in college. Hope this isn’t the case with me and for everyone reading this. Hope we all experience this joy forever.  

“Follow your bliss”, said the great Joseph Campbell. That’s what one exactly does in college.

There still is some considerable time left in the hourglass of my college life. But the time gone by has been an absolute roller-coaster ride, driving me into writing such a untimely, hasty obituary. College life has been much better than expected.  Hope the times to come are even more blissful. J

In the end I just want to thank my college life. I will forever remain indebted for everything it has bestowed upon me.

I wish that this journey never ends. I wish there wasn’t a destination.



“You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does..."            
 -Tom Petty





REWIN KOUL