Wedding Blues

MARRIAGE AND I share a pernicious relationship, thanks to the numerous weddings I’ve been a part of all these years. (Before you start giving those ‘what-the-crap-this-guy-is-talking-about’ looks, let me clarify I’m only talking about attending marriage ceremonies, not actually getting married.) When I was young I used to be tagged along with my family to whichever wedding ceremony they attended, and everyone — quite expectedly — gave an air of insouciance to my repeated protest against accompanying them. Why would I go to somewhere I don’t know anyone, not even the bride or groom? It feels so awkward, I used to argue. But all I got in return were a few ‘you-are-a-kid-so-you-shouldn’t-have-any-say-in-this’ looks from everyone around forcing me to shut up.

So I attended the shaadis, over the years. And the saga still continues. In fact, the relations are so distant at times that I’ve to memorise them well in advance. Otherwise how do I explain others that I’m attending the ceremony of my aunt’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s daughter’s marriage? Or, for that matter, my father’s colleague’s elder brother’s son’s bou-bhaat. Once there I retreat to a lonesome corner, stuffing my mouth with some really awful vegetable — and occasionally chicken — pakoras (in order to prevent myself from getting bored) and hiding away from my over-enthusiastic (and over-grinning) relatives and acquaintances. But as luck would have it, they invariably spot me out and thereafter triggers a volley of pissing-off questions — what are you doing these days, why don’t you come to our place nowadays... blah, blah, blah... why are you standing alone here, why did you leave your job all of a sudden. Phew!

More often than not I manage to escape with a disinterested toothy grin, desperately waiting for the dinner to start. However the freakiest moments are those when some super-emotional aunty tugs my cheeks hard exclaiming, ‘O maa, koto boro hoye gechhis re tui!’ How cheeky!

Marriage ceremonies are queer. There’s a distinct air of superficiality running through them. Most of the biye bari that I’ve attended, all I could find under the guise of ‘heavenly bliss’ and merrymaking were pomp and splendour, ‘I-spent-more-money-than-you’-type grandeur, unabashed display of wealth, show off, tall talks, fake smiles, phoney conversations, sugar-coated bitching, flashy sarees and flashier jewellery.

However, marriage ceremonies can be fun as well. Apart from the food, I keep myself entertained by eavesdropping on the sensational gossip... err, conversations (‘gossip is a bad word — people ‘converse’, they never ‘gossip’) floating around. Now, for this write-up I did a little research (eavesdropping, to be precise) and came up with the following conversations. Though not letter-perfect, but you’ll surely get a glimpse of what everyone talks about at weddings.

Conversation One

Women, with their ‘hey-I-know-it-better-than-you’ attitude, are usually preoccupied with what seems to be making a detailed and thorough critical appraisal (they call it ‘fair comment’) of a number of earth-shattering issues — how tacky the bride’s saree looks, whether her jewellery is actually gold or mere gold-plated, is the groom really a mamma’s boy or just appears to be so or, why the bride’s mother didn’t personally come to welcome them.

‘Look at the bride’s saree. Isshhh... shocking red! Who wears that colour of Benarasi these days? How hideous!’

‘Absolutely. And have you seen her make-up? Looks like she’s applied pots of powder on her face! Must have done it at home. Couldn’t she even go to a parlour?’

‘Are all those jewels pure gold? The girl’s father has taken loan for the wedding. How come they can afford such extravagance?’

‘Arrey, bor ta ke dekh. I’ve heard he works in IBM. But see, how kyabla he looks!’

‘Hmm... and his mom is just the opposite. What a kharoos lady she is!’

‘Then it’s good, na? That girl is such a snob... doesn’t talk to anyone properly in the colony. You know, she even rejected Dolly boudi’s son. Ebar bujhbe moja.’

Conversation Two

Among the men, on the other hand, the subject of discussion generally pendulates between the present socio-political situation of the country and bragging about their sons and daughters, where the latter takes precedence. Occasionally they also throw sneer at others in a manifestation of ‘look-at-me-I-am-so-rich’ syndrome.

‘What’s your son doing now, Ghosh babu?’

‘He’s studying Mass Communication. Journalist hobe bolchhe.’

‘Tai naki? My elder son, Dipu, is in States now. Works in an MNC there... earns more than a lakh every month!’

‘Oh that’s very...’

‘And the younger, Riju, is studying Engineering in Bangalore. He’s thinking about doing MBA like his Dada after passing out... wants to shift abroad, actually.’

‘I think...’

‘But I didn’t object. Arrey, why should I? They’re grown ups now. And in any case, Engineering and MBA chhara aar achhe ta ki? All other courses are just a waste of time.’

Silence.

‘And if you talk of settling abroad, what’s wrong in it? Kolkata shohorer aar kissu hobe na moshai! It’s a dying city. Look at the climate. Ki gorom! Dipu doesn’t want to come here at all. You know, he can’t adjust to this heat and pollution.’

Silence. Silence.

‘Oh, by the way, Dipu’s getting married in June. We’re throwing a party at ITC Sonar. And it will be far more lavish than this wedding, I promise you! Eta to kichhui na.’

Conversation Three

Food is something I absolutely die for, and when it comes to ‘wedding reception food’, that’s a distinct cuisine altogether. However, it is also at weddings that you come across a rare and priceless breed of ‘food critic’ who can give the professionals a run for their money. Despite the fact that they stuff their plates with every item possible like it’s their last meal on this planet, these food critics have the miraculous ability to identify even the smallest flaw in cooking. Sample this.

‘The food was good. But the mutton was too spicy. Tai na?’

‘Yeah, and a bit chewy as well.’

‘The chingri malaikari was okay, although the prawns weren’t fresh. They stank.’

‘Chingri r kothay pelam? The waiters didn’t offer it twice.’

‘And the fish fry? It was so cold I had to tell them to heat it up before serving.’

‘I wanted to taste the paneer makhani. But they refused to serve me, saying it was only for vegetarians and I’ve already eaten non-veg items. Odbhut!’

Conversation Four

This one is a bonus item — a conversation between the over-zealous video recording guy and the groom.

‘Arrey Dada, stop! Don’t put the sindoor on boudi now.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘Give us a good pose na! Hold your hand over the bride’s forehead... yeah, that’s good. Keep it like that! Okay... now do it.’

‘Thank God!’

‘No, no... don’t look at her. Look at me. I mean... towards the camera. Dada, now give a smile to boudi. No... don’t tilt your head! Sit straight. Yeah... perfect!’



I know I might be guillotined for saying this, but here’s the golden rule: next time you’re in a biye bari, keep your ears to the ground and eyes in the back of your head. You’ll find amusement galore. Hail marriage.


Image courtesy: Sourish Mitra