Instead of being taken in a matter-of-fact manner as a practical and pragmatic transition made necessary by the realities of life, the wedding ceremony is typically considered a joyous, exciting occasion that marks the beginning of continual bliss. This makes the challenges that inevitably follow more shocking than they need to be and therefore all the more difficult to handle. Of course, all concerned parties find out soon after the event that the Urdu word for ‘wedding ceremony’ (as indeed for marriage itself: ‘shadi’, literally meaning ‘happiness’) is a misnomer if ever there was one. By which time it is obviously too late.
Many folks make all the right noises about the virtues of simple weddings as indeed of everything else in life. They obviously have their hearts in the right place. Unfortunately, what comes in their way when it is time to put their money where their mouth is, is that it is either the first son’s wedding or the last daughter’s or vice versa, and therefore each event has to be a grand and extravagant one.
For thoughtful individuals who also happen to be sensitive (this scribe, for instance) however, weddings can be quite gloomy affairs. For starters, few things are as heartbreaking as seeing a fellow human being blissfully oblivious to the doom coming his way. At these events, numerous faces are on view glowing with anticipatory happiness. The knowledge of what is very probably in store for most of them is not a pleasant one for those with a sympathetic soul.
In this society, arranged marriages still amount to a significant percentage of the total number. So it is that there is usually one party on the wedding day that can be seen with an especially pronounced spring in its step. It enjoys the limelight and basks in the glory of having been instrumental in making the match. The groom’s sister, for example, who has set her dear brother up with her best friend. The heart especially goes out to this person, as this elation would be extremely short-lived. Because immediately after the wedding, when boundaries are redefined in light of new realities and territories marked accordingly, she is going to be the first one to be declared persona non grata by the former ‘best friend’. Over the coming months, many others would be subjected to the same fate, but the matchmaker is typically the first one. Desi love, after all, amounts to little more than an all-encompassing power grab.
At a wedding ceremony some years ago, a man observed that the festivities should be curtailed somewhat, because the guests naturally had other business to tend to apart from attending weddings. To which another man protested: But WE have no other business but this (attending weddings)! Desi weddings are excruciatingly tedious, unnecessarily long, and painfully predictable. No wonder ladies love them so much. What with the difference between men and women diminishing by the day, it seems so do more and more men too.
Not being invited to a wedding is generally considered the ultimate insult and has traditionally caused much long-lasting bad blood among otherwise perfectly reasonable individuals. For my part, I love not being invited. In fact, I feel extremely indebted to the host. For my policy is to avoid weddings if I can at all help it; and having been ignored obviates the need to conjure up credible excuses. I admit that I was not able to avoid the one that needed avoiding the most– my own, that is. In my defence, I gave the matter serious thought but decided to go ahead because absenting myself on my own wedding would have been way too impertinent.
There are other reasons too. At weddings, many gentlemen and ladies, for reasons hitherto unknown, insist on dancing. While there is nothing wrong with the sentiment per se, the problem is that as a rule they cannot dance to save their lives, which means that the whole thing can be quite cringeworthy for those endowed with an aesthetic sense.
[It is interesting to note that societal norms and standard views on acceptable behaviour in mixed company held by a broad section of the community remain suspended or held strictly in abeyance for the duration of the festivities. So it is that even the ladies who, in ordinary circumstances, are extremely careful about their dress and demeanour with strangers around, suddenly display an extraordinary freedom from such inhibitions.
So it is that they do not seem to mind one bit the fact that what they like to refer to as their dance moves are being recorded (as are all other proceedings) for the benefit of posterity. And it is not only the official cameraman and his able assistants the light-man and the cable-holder doing the filming (as was the case up until 20 years ago), but everybody along with his uncle and aunty have their mobile phones out, religiously video-documenting everything.]
Dressing without regard to the weather conditions (in fact in plain defiance of them), excessive make up all around, and typically bad (and too loud) music are some of the other hallmarks of the desi wedding that take a heavy toll on the sensibilities of those unfortunates who happen to be aesthetes. Throw in having to choose between uncomfortable silence and unbearable small-talk and having to endure the long queues for the mandatory photo with the bride and the groom, and staying home becomes an infinitely more attractive prospect in comparison.
Not being invited to a wedding is generally considered the ultimate insult and has traditionally caused much long-lasting bad blood among otherwise perfectly reasonable individuals. For my part, I love not being invited. In fact, I feel extremely indebted to the host. For my policy is to avoid weddings if I can at all help it; and having been ignored obviates the need to conjure up credible excuses. I admit that I was not able to avoid the one that needed avoiding the most– my own, that is. In my defence, I gave the matter serious thought but decided to go ahead because absenting myself on my own wedding would have been way too impertinent.
