Home  -  Back Issues  -  The Team  -  Contact Us
   Volume 11 |Issue 05| February 03, 2012 |


   Inside

 Letters
 Voicebox
 Chintito
 Cover Story
 One Off
 Human Rights
 Neighbours
 Food for Thought
 Perceptions
 Photo Feature
 International
 Special Feature
 Musings
 Lifestyle
 Impressions
 Sport
 Art
 Write to Mita
 Star Diary
 Cartoon
 Postscript

   SWM Home


Chintito

Season's Greetings

Chintito

The buildings are colourfully alight at night despite the fading grumble of power shortage, the invitation cards are becoming gorgeous by the wedding although newspapers paint a drab picture of life, the tamarind celebrations are being held without tamarind except in the cooking, the music in the mahalla is loud enough to sound like the entire city is tying the wedlock, the food remains rich despite the fall, faller and fallest of the stock market, venue owners and not the Kazi rule the date and the time of the aqd, sponsored saree/punjabee makes one feel like family or outside it, the horse carriage is becoming a symbol of Moghul pedigree, Bollywood songs and Rajnikanth movements have been embraced to the extent that even Delhi is embarrassed, the dhols and Bauls are reminders that we are Bangalee, thrice a week you meet the same persons who pretend to be someone else if caught repeating an attire ... what the hell! This is the wedding season.

You could be forgiven for wondering where do all these men find all these women or vice versa. Well, in some cases they discover each other as early as boys and girls, almost as soon as they know how to differentiate one from another. You will find the duos at the udyan at the rate of three couples per tree facing outwards towards other trees with couples, or at every pillar of a university where the adage 'failure is the pillar of success' is a certificate of experience. For it is espoused by an anonymous author that 'only twenty percent boys have brains, the rest have girlfriends!' You will have to be pardoned again for wondering whether a tree-less park, or a column-free institution would reduce the number of nuptials because they now have trees inside restaurants and only a handful of our marriageable find a hallowed seat in the highest academia.

Those who delay to find an opposite number to kobul are in no danger at all because the search engine is on at every level of parents, aunts, teachers, neighbours, and even in-laws for the ex. The problem with the search lies with the preferences provided. Pretty, educated, tall, fair and lovely, singer/dancer, painter, cooker, wealthy, and homely – in the case of a suitable bride. Good-looking, highly educated, taller, fair and handsome, mild-mannered, cricketer/footballer, writer, wealthy, and settled – in the case of a suitable groom. Sometimes they also add 'unmarried' just to make sure. The web world responds: 'no result found'.

To add to that difficulty is the secret (dare she say it aloud) hope of all (well most) (okay many) (alright a few) mothers that 'their daughter will marry a better man than they did and are certain that their son will never find a wife as good as his father did'. Both points are vigorously opposed by the fathers who with matrimonial experience of two decades and a half can read their guarded wife albeit with some small errors and a few serious ones. It is also at such stages of life that the man ponders: 'So many options for suicide: poison, sleeping pills, hanging, jumping from a building, lying on train tracks, but we chose marriage; slow but sure!'

Those who delay and delay in finding someone (to marry) find solace in the statement that “all desirable things in life are illegal, banned, expensive, or married to someone else!”

In actuality thousands do find each other by a system laced with maybe, perhaps, and possibly, where the end justifies the means. Weddings this time of the year are so many that a well networked guy may be pushing traffic from Officers Club to Bangabandhu Convention Centre, from MP hostel to Army Golf Club in one night. Or to and from the umpteen wedding halls and makeshift grounds that are forced to doing double shifts. The decor, the stage, the bride and groom, the food, the taste, and the people have all become so stereotyped (especially the gaye holud songs) that one often does not remember a wedding that he has been to or why had he been there. Was the invitation from the bride's parents? Is the father a relative? Do they know each other from office, or through a business associate? By the time the answers emerge from a cloud of common guests it is time to rush to another wedding reception.

At any wedding, known or unknown, it is therefore a safe strategy to stick a glee on your face. That way, the hosts will think the food was great, and try to remember who you are before they move on to the next guest. The other guests will give you a glee back because they do not have a clue. If you are a man, the lady in the blue saree would like to think you do not have skewed eyes. If you are a woman, the gentleman in the dark suit will surely ask someone (pray it is not your husband) who you are. And your driver will know it is time to start the car.

<chintitoforever@gmail.com>


Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2012