I Love Weddings? Not!

I’ll start off by solemnly swearing that I never actually liked going to weddings, and even though begrudgingly, I end up being a part of these sparkly, sometimes over the top, cringe-inducing extravaganzas. I endure them with a smile that is equivalent to pitching a fork in my stomach.

The things I absolu -withallmyheart- tely love at weddings:

It is just that one thing.

1. Food:

I know many people who go to weddings for the sake of the steaming hot delicacies being ladled out into their shining white plates. I am one of those shameful people, even if it’s at the wedding of a relative. So, sue me. I like to live to eat before I’m donezo! And so does the vast majority of the attendees at the wedding by the looks of their plates, which are usually over flowing with the tide of food that keeps coming. The remains say it all.

Where, oh, where do you not find the vestiges of the food attack?

Look under your table. If you don’t already know what happens next: you’ll either laugh or be mentally scarred forever. Good Lord, the huddiyan. The grease stained tissue paper tatters that make you think our feeble economy thrives on the marketing of tissue paper.

P.S. I am one of those who preserve the sanctity of the cartilage and let it be. God is my witness.

The things I abhor at weddings:

1. Music:

I’m not going to question whether the music is appropriate or not; since it’s shadi music and shadi music is supposed to be loud with throbbing beats and is usually accompanied with a nasally dude crooning about the visage of the girl or the color of the bride’s lehnga. I understand. I understand completely even though I think a little part of me died somewhere right now.

What astounds me is the rising level of crudeness that has begun to accompany these songs. I’m sure, while I sit patiently (not) and a song just blasts through the stereo, belting out the promiscuous indiscretions of the lady or the dude or whoever they’re talking about. I find it not very shadi related. Even though no one gives a flying kite, and what to the ever, it’s not like it’s my wedding, psshaww. On with the cheap songs which make me vomit in my mouth.

2. The Wait:

Yes, the time was 8:00 p.m. It’s written right there on this bright card with cute tassels at the end.

And it’s 10.00 p.m. now. So where’s the party?

11:00 p.m. – I have exhausted every topic imaginable to discuss with my sister, mother, a random person sitting next to me.

12.00 a.m. – “Dude, let’s ditch this joint and go to this awesome place instead! Then we can post our pictures to the bride and groom’s families to –”

Ammi: “No.”

Of course, thanks to the new law that prohibits shaadi extravaganzas to let the dhol baaja go on ad nauseam. We can all breathe a collective sigh of relief on this one.

3. The Milna Milana:

It’s a happy affair indeed, as you meet countless people whose beautiful faces, you’d seen a long time back. The “kitni bariiii hogae ho!” and “aap miltay he nahi ho?” is synonymous with weddings along with tinkling laughs and perfume indulgent hugs.

This cranks the annoying in weddings to an unfathomable level; seeing people you don’t like prance up to you like nobody’s business. Thou shalt not bludgeon.

No, I don’t want to meet you, uncle who mistook me for a cushion and tried to sit on me at my mother’s cousin’s bhabhi’s shaadi 10 years ago. No, please. Some scars run deep.

4. The oh-so-marvelous traditional Rasmain:

I guess I was in 4th grade when I gradually began to perceive these little traditions in a wedding and that time, it was pure blossoming love.

The love that turned rancid. I’m an observer of this tradition, not actually a participant. However, I find them fascinating as I watch the crowd of mostly young adults and children fight over money, suffocating the bride and groom as they converge upon them like bees.

It kind of reminds me of National Geographic. It makes me wish for National Geographic.

5. The Aunties:

This is for all the ladies, although some guys are also susceptible to it.

Found in every shadi. Can not escape their painted clutches.

They have hawk like eye-sight and proceed to squint at nearly every girl present there with their over-friendly mannerism. Some of them will ask you your whole history – your parent’s occupation, siblings, family discords, illnesses and neighbor details among other things.

Do NOT offend them.

Auntie (spotting me): Ah beta, what do you do?

Me (too stupid to find a place to hide): Jee, I’m doing Bachelors.

Auntie: Oh chalo, excellent. Agay toh ghar he chalana hai. *insert fake laugh that’s almost real*

Me: Yeaaaaa… No.

Auntie: Sorry?

Me: …

Conclusion:

So, I might sound like a bitter and cranky 50-year-old with an anti-social existence who doesn’t know how to spell F-U-N, but yes, that first line of this article kind of did let the cat out of the bag that I don’t squeal in delight or burst into raptures of joy at the mere sight of a wedding card that says, “Cordially Invite Mr. ____ with Family”.

Guess that is just how I roll.