I hate family reunions. I have a large extended family ; And every time I see them together I feel guilty of the fact that my forefathers were one among the people responsible for India touching 1.2 Billion today. Like one of my aunts has 13 sisters. Seriously, what were you planning—a family owned female football team!!
First of all, I hate my relatives. My mind is still raw from their abuse. Every summer vacation, one or the other of my relatives would drop at my place with a packet of sweets and a bag of nonsense. And their first interaction with me would be “beta, how much did you score in your last exam”. My score would be a measly 80% which is crap in a CBSE board where 96% students score 96% or above.They would anwer back “Our son Babloo, your cousin, came first in the class with 98%.You should take your studies a bit more seriously. You know what, you should try yoga. It will improve your concentration and your performance .Now, that is some shitty advice. If I am an underperforming mediocre, then I am an underperforming mediocre. Yoga can’t change that.If yoga helped improve intellect ,then Ramdev’s sidekicks would be running Microsoft by now. Besides, I don’t get yoga. In half of those asanas it seems like you are trying to have sex with yourself.
Anyways, after being periodically compared to someone’s son, daughter ,brother or sister and after being declared the official dim wit of my family with no tangible achievement to flaunt,I felt like registering myself on PaidaKyunHua.com.
Anyhoo,I am not a big fan of marriage as an institution. It’s basically a promissory note of Free sex and domestic help to guys. But what is more irritating is the 10 odd day long charade called wedding.
Now, a real wedding is nothing like a Suraj Barjatia flick- happiness being in the air,people going gaga over each other , coming together of implausibly well behaved and kind hearted people to celebrate a grand communion of two souls—fuck, that’s just not what happens in a real wedding.A real wedding is a mixture of confusion, chaos, nausea and a lot of bitching.
Everytime I go to a wedding in the family, I see a gathering of random people supposedly related to me and all I see is a bald uncle, an obese aunt,a pimple faced cousin and so on.So, I have a 48% chance of going bald , 33% chance of turning diabetic and a 5.23% probability of becoming mentally unstable just because I share my genetic code with these people.Fuck you, genetically transmitted diseases.These people stuffed under one roof in the name of socializing try to outdo each other on the yard stick of status ,individual superiority and superiority of respective siblings.Like, there was this uncle-aunt pair was talking about their son’s so called bright future.-“Rohan is really brilliant.He is going to Kota and is taking classes in Resonance.Two years on ,he will be an IITian.” And I just couldn’t take the shit and blurted out-“ Just like every Nepali is not a watchman,the same way every resonance guy is not ending up in IIT.His parents looked at me as if I committed something worthy of capital punishment. I still can’t figure out as to what pissed them off more-my utter confidence in their son not going anywhere near an IIT or my racist remarks about the Nepali community.
Every family has a few members from the A K Hungul era,who still don’t know how operate a cell phone properly,blame mini skirt clad girls and MTV reality shows for ruining our culture,occupy the TV for 18 hours a day watching Ramdev and Nirmal Baba on Sadhna tv ,love Dilip Kumar,hate Akhay Kumar and who still can’t figure out as to why boys today wear their jeans way below their ass crack.And these people are always present in every wedding without fail,because lets face it they don’t have anything better to do.Now, these guys have a desperation to talk to the younger generation because everyone else is too busy to listen to them.So,when they get hold of you they start talking which is a torture because it’s like having history lessons again.So, they talk about the good old 60’s, their struggle when they were young;how they had to walk 20 miles every day to school and study under the lantern light because of lack of electricity;about how great a man Jawaharlal Nehru was and how his daughter Indira Gandhi almost ruined this country;the turmoil of the License Raj and political upheaval during Emergency.Forget relating to,you can’t even understand what these people say, because let’s face it ,when was the last time anybody took Social Studies seriously in school.
Every time I attend these weddings I get probed from all directions by seemingly related people asking questions about my salary,my positon in the office,the vehicle I own,if I had any foreign trips,my plans for marriage and i keep disappointing them with my answers(while they were at it, they should have also asked me my underwear size and my toilet routines.The shit quotient of the questions asked would have improved).Every time people listen to how much I earn, they look at me the way people look at guys suffering from testicular cancer—a cocktail of apathy and sympathy.During those times I feel like Jagan Mohan Reddy.Only difference being he is being scorned at for earning more than enough and I for not earning enough.
There are so many things that make weddings look like South American circus.Some of them are as follows:-
The fact that most of the weddings take place at night for which I have to wake up the entire goddamn night.Back in office I get about 500 bucks for doing the same.(night shift allowance)
The wedding procession. Marriages usually start with heart patient unfriendly Daler Mehndi tracks being played at the highest levels of decibels that will make you lose your faith in music and drunk guys dancing to those tracks like SriDevi from Naagin.
The women in the wedding.The women attending the wedding wear so much make-up that if you look at them up close you will get an idea of what it would feel watching THE EXORCIST alone at night.And the amount of gold ornaments they wear it feels as if they recently robbed MUTHOOT gold loan guys.And the amount of cloth they wrap around themselves, if each one of them donated those garments it would be enough to cloth the entire north Africa.
The Bride.The bride is generally as expressionless as John Abraham .A desperate effort to keep her Make up intact,may be.
The gifts.The gifts usually given at the wedding comprise of mixer,grinder,photo frames,electric toaster and other useless items which people receive at their own wedding and dispose those off in some one else’s wedding.
The Bride’s father – The most tragic figure in the wedding.The father during the wedding looks like he has been convicted of race crimes in Liberia.He has to arrange the whole thing,pay for the whole thing with 20 years of his savings,cater to the groom’s relatives who somehow have an idea that just because they are from the groom’s side they deserve to be treated like Prince Charles Of England,please his own relatives and neighbours who make it a point to find fault in everything from the food to the bride’s dress to the number of pimples on the groom’s face.
Yes, I find wedding less of a grand ceremony and more of a charade .Life is not a Yash Raj flick,people are not cardboard cut outs of Hum Saath Saath Hain and Facebook pictures do not tell the entire story.And also the picture in the blog is not that of my family