व्याह नू हत्थ लाणा, a few miracles and an announcement

Yesterday we officially kicked-started the wedding celebrations! There was a small कीर्तन as part of the larger function, व्याह नू हत्थ लाणा. In the olden days, the wedding family had to do everything on their own- from cleaning chaffs of गेहूं to then dressing up the bride. Now, there are आटा चक्कीs to deal with the गेहूं and cooks to handle the food. There are fancy salons to dress up the brides and so we don't know what to do except call the आटा चक्की and order MP का आटा, instruct the cooks on the menu for the day and reconfirm appointments at the salon. However, the traditions still continue.

So yesterday, we did the traditional threshing of गेहूं. I mean the married women of the house (this again makes me wonder why Punjabis consider marriage as a contagious disease- a group of married women passing on the germs to the poor bride-to-be). After this, there was another traditional thing- the women (married, again) undoing the braid that the bride-to-be had made her hair into. So Monu's braid was undone. This, we guessed stems from the daily schedule where the bride is dressed up for the wedding only after the housework (including threshing the गेहूं) is finished.

There was also a कीर्तन, during which कमला बुआजी looked like a child who finds out Christmas is happening twice that year, would. Then began a series of traditional Punjabi songs that either bitch about the bride's mother-in-law or bitch about the bride's mother-in-law. In unimaginably creative ways. The poor mother-in-law is compared to everything short of a rat's ass and I cannot help but feel sorry for the poor hag.

So with the wedding officially flagging off the next natural step was to go to the mattresses. The furniture has been pushed in the corners and everywhere in the house, you will find people sleeping on mattresses on the floor. As for चाचा and I, we have shifted to the drawing room (or draa-ing room, as the old man calls it) where we are fed too!





In the short time since the wedding celebrations started, we are experiencing miracles like them Christians talk about. Here is one:



This is the famously-notorious! Mine बापू who has never EVER done anything for himself and is quite used to being waited upon 24X7 by one family member (mine mother) or another (Sonu)(if you are my family, I know you are nodding right now), actually made tea. For 5 people. Everybody had just finished drinking tea but when the opportunity of a lifetime comes your way, you don't refuse it. So out of curiosity, everybody said yes to the offer for tea, much to the surprise of mine बापू. Junior Dadi's warning glares were ignored. Hallelujah!

And in conclusion, I wish to make an announcement to the few folks who are joining us in a few days: BYOC- Bring Your Own Chappals (चप्पलs). See the चप्पल-चोरी takes the form of a continuum- X wears Y's चप्पलs, Y wears Z's, Z wears A's, A wears B's and then B will wear mine and I have to wear mine बापू's size-12, जितेन्दर-style white sandals in my size-barely-5 feet and waddle to the bathroom with mine बापू's warnings of "मेरी sandil गीली मत करना" ringing in my ears. One needs a conducive environment to attend nature's call, people. So please. BYOC.

Fire scare and the usual jhik jhik

Dear folks, it is here. The wedding. Since the past few days, we have been swamped. And we don't know in what. There is just a gazillion things to do. And several disasters to take care of.

The latest arrival is that of mine बापू. He is Junior Dadi's absolute favourite. This video will prove that.



Look at that smile! In fact अन्खुं calls his wife the दरोगा and my Dad the D.I.G. And like all सरकारी अफसर, mine बापू also has all of us running around to ensure he has nothing to complain about. चाची tends to not talk quite a lot in the presence of बापू.

Now let me tell you a little bit about our living arrangements. The first floor of the house has two rooms- the left room, which is where I have spent the 13 years of mine life since we moved into this house and the right room, which has the TV and the dressing table and where Dad stays when he is here. Like I have shared earlier, my original room (the left room) had been converted into the D-room since August this year. The D-room is the दाज room and this is where all the gifts, clothes and other things belonging to the bride have been stored. Upon mine eviction to convert the left room to the D-room, I shifted to the right room. I had a pleasant stay there for a few months. When Dad was to arrive, Junior Dadi became increasingly agitated and anxious over her apple's (i.e. my Dad's) living arrangements and comfort. So she kicked me out of the right room. Because "गजेन्दर आँ जाई पसंद ऐ" (Gajender- my father- likes his space). Thankfully, चाची took pity on me and gave me half of the bed-space in the left room (that is now the D room until the wedding, remember?). I was grateful.

Then the next night, the room began to smell funny. And there was a power cut. Only in our house. So we called our trusted electrician काका मामा, who like us and everybody else we deal with, is quite careless in his work. Now when you are selling बाल्टी मग्गे like चाचा does, this attitude is still acceptable. But when you are an electrician like काका मामा, it is bad news. Also, the reason that काका मामा is काका मामा-he calls चाची, दीदी and चाचा, जीजाजी. ऐसे ही. No reason. And Dear God, काका मामा has the stinkiest pair of feet ever.

So when the room began to smell funny and the power cut happened to be in our house only, we called for काका मामा. But काका मामा was not in town so Chacha's trusted aid, गुरमीत भैया (more about the trusted aid may be found here found a nice गोरखी electrician, Bahadur ji. Bahadur ji fixed stuff to the extent that nothing would catch fire but said that since he really could not figure out काका मामा's चालू (and not in a good way) wiring in the house, he would not be able to totally fix it.

So until the D room becomes the left room again and we have kicked Monu out of here legally, I am out in the balcony. Like this:



If you think about it, my temporary room is pretty neat. It has a great view and an even better audio-field, by which I mean I can be privy to all gossip and bitching without the folks below knowing I am around. Here is how great the view is:



The thing that bothers me though is that when the family came to know that the room almost burnt, the first reaction was "हाय शुक्कर है सामान बच गया". Even when I reminded them that I was in the room too, they gave the uncomfortable laugh and said "ओहो, चलो बच के रहा करो".

Sigh!

Why I wish it were my wedding.

This is a शादी house and these are busy times so I will share everything in points.

Here is why I wish it were my wedding:

Scene#1: Morning. Chachi has been up for a while and is quickly finishing her kitchen chores as she rattles off the tasks each of us must do that day, all which obviously have something or the other to do with Monu's clothes, Monu's this and Monu's that. We are all standing in sloppy-military positions, yawning our heads off and definitely remembering less than 50 per cent of the tasks. Our bride, meanwhile is snoring gently under blanket covers.

Scene#2: Later that morning. There are not enough wedding cards! So at the last minute, we have to order some extra prints. Chachi is frantically making a list of guests who are still to be invited, Chacha is making calls to the printer and reading out the text from the first batch of cards to him and arguing with him about time-constraint. I am revving my scooter's engine to run to the printer's, show him the sample of the card he had originally made and collect the re-prints. Sonu is doing what she does best in crisis-situations- making tea and Soma is standing as usual-in a corner with her mouth hanging open (this is not so much a matter of surprise as a matter of habit for her). Our bride meanwhile is rubbing papaya peels on her face to rejuvenate her skin.

Scene#3: Midday. Our assembly line for folding, slotting cards into envelopes, writing names on the envelopes and putting the wedding cards into plastic sheets has resumed for the second time. Midway through, Chachi and Chacha leave the table to finish some chores. Soma is in school, the lucky brat. Sonu and I are yawning uncontrollably and force our bodies to continue completing the wedding cards even as our minds and bodies scream for our afternoon siestas. Our bride meanwhile is gently snoring in the room.

Scene#4: My room. Which has not been my room since the time we started buying Monu's married-life stuff. You know, बर्तन, पतीले etc. That stands where I used to sleep, i.e. on my bed. I am sitting down to pack everything. Soma is helping. This takes the entire day. Chachi is doing something or the other and we hope Chacha is up to something shaadi-related too. Every so often, our bride breezes into the room to check the progress of the work. I have to admit that she is generous with her praises. For the rest of the time, our bride is having a mixture of oils massaged into her scalp.

Scene#5: Evening. Sonu is making tea for the जमघट that gathers at our house every evening these days. We are all doing this, that and the other. Occasionally, we find something Monu can help us with. However, she is soon called by one बुआ or another with the loving "साड्डे कोल बै, फिर ते व्याह हो जासी या".

So that is why.

Part#2- Incoming Junior Dadi and फूफा

Before I begin this write-up, let me announce that our next post may be an exclusive interview with Rads, the original bride who made this blog happen. She is back in town and if I can get her to talk to me AND IF she is slightly interesting, I will run the interview here. Watch this space.
.....................................................................................

Our last post ended with the arrival of Junior Dadi and फूफा. Junior Dadi is actually my बुआ and the oldest of the senior Kakkar siblings. She is 13 years older than चाचा and her husband, our much-loved फूफा likes to tell the story of how चाचा would be roaming around without any pants on, during बुआ's and फूफा's wedding.

Here at home, we often talk about, and miss दादी. She really wanted watch all her grandkids get married and dance in each one of the weddings! This time, when बुआ जी arrived in Dehradun after a very long time, we saw her and the same thought crossed our minds simultaneously- she is exactly like दादी! Protective in her ways, incredibly loving yet at the same time a force to reckon with. Already since her arrival, she has snubbed Sonu and myself at an average rate of 5 times everyday and we are now quieter for it! The thing we love most about her though- she has this incredible tinker-bell laughter that is ridiculously infectious. So she has been re-christened Junior Dadi.

Our फूफा came as the senior-most दामाद of the house and in a family that will ask the Gods to wait if there is a दामाद in the picture at the same moment, THAT is saying something! However, he has been converted into something of a driver these past few days, and is especially almost a personal chauffeur to our younger बुआ.

फूफा is actually an alien term to us siblings because since as long back as we can remember, we call him अच्छु or अन्खुं- a name, we believe was given to him by Ram Bhai.

With the arrival of Junior Dadi and अन्खुं, NOW we are really a शादी house- bustling always, chit chat चटर all the time and Oh-My-God a gazillion gallons of चाय daily.

The शादी phase also means a time of many बेज़तीs and one has to be prepared at all times for sharp comments from any which side. It also means a time for a lot of bloody nagging, especially if you are 26, have three tattoos, have streaks of red in your hair, haven't declared a potential love interest that you can be hitched to AND are overweight. This time, I was prepared.

And then I learnt you can never be prepared enough.

I will provide bullet points for incidents that have happened in the nagging-o-sphere-

1. Junior Dadi insisted that I eat something off of Monu's plate so that I am next to get married. This has reinforced my belief that marriage is, in fact a contagious disease.

2. चाचा has taken to dreaming of a गोला-जेया little man who would be a perfect match for his गोली- जेई भत्रेइयि (भतीजी). So if you spot a गोला-जेया little man during the wedding, do send him my way. :/

3. Monu came running to me the other day and thrust that day's edition of HT City in my hand. The front page featured a picture of Aishwariya Rai in a salwar-kameez and Monu insisted I must get a similar design stitched for the wedding. Apparently, ideas for clothes that will look gorgeous on me come from women who are 8-months pregnant. :/

4. And this is the most interesting and unexpected incident. A few days back, a young man from a जागरण-टोली came to our house to ask for money for an overnight कीर्तन. As is the practice, he had an entire page of fake-ass donations scrawled in the same handwriting ranging from fake-ass rupees 101/- to fake-ass rupees 501/-. The idea is to show to the donor that others before him/her have given so much money and almost shaming him/her to pay the same amount. It did work initially but now everybody knows the trick so the fake-जागरण people only get rupees 11, which I think is not bad at all.
Moving on then, the young man thrusted the notebook in my hand and asked for donation and as part of my rehearsed act, I said to him that he should come back in the evening because "Papa, Mummy are not at home". I was aware of the clear sound of Junior Dadi talking over the phone coming from within the house and the clearer image of अन्खुं dozing on a chair under the sun right behind where the fake-जागरण man stood but I still delivered my lines with perfect innocence.

The fake-जागरण man persisted and said it would not be possible for him to return in the evening so would I give him any money I may have. I said of course, and I was quite pleased that my act was working so well, despite the now-snoring अन्खुं who should have ruined my story. I waddle indoors and waddle out with a crisp tenner and a one-rupee coin in my hand.

That's when the man delivered what I still maintain was an unnecessary line. He says "थोड़े और पैसे दे देते" and I said we won't be able to attend the fake-ass जागरण because it is fake-ass and also because my sister is getting married. To this he said "कोई नहीं, हम आपके लिए भी जय कारा बोलेंगे, आप भी हमारी लाडो हो". Then he asks me if I am पंजाबी and I say yes. He looks up and down and says "हाँ आप पंजाबी लगते भी हो".

OBJECTION YOUR HONOUR, that was uncalled for!! So I curtly put back the ten rupee note in my pocket, hand him the one-rupee coin and waddle back to my kingdom.

See what I meant by you cannot be prepared enough?

Tales of the legendary मासी

All those who have not checked the blog the last week- I say good for you because I did not update it. It was not for lack of things to share, I might add. Quite the opposite really.

So this blog post will be very long indeed and I will have to do it two parts like the final Harry Potter movie.

Let's call Part#1 Mona and the 5-day breeze from Doha. No, that does not sound right. OK let's call Part#1 Part#1.
In Part#1, I will tell you about the 5-day visit of Monu's Arti मासी. Arti मासी is a brilliant पिंडी मुटियार from the by-lanes of प्रेम नगर in Dehradun who went on to SRCC in Delhi and grew from the proverbial pillar to the proverbial post. She now holds a British passport and lives in Doha with her family, where she teaches English to Qatari policemen. Monu and I have grown up listening to tales of this legendary मासी who taught other students while she was still in college and whose wardrobe then consisted of a few खादी कुरते and plain-white सलवार. I did emulate her briefly when I was in class six or seven and though I did sport the खादी कुरते and white सलवार look for a while, I never quite managed to convince my classmates to drop their respective extra tuition and take lessons from me instead. Not even when I promised a chocolate per lesson.

So the legendary मासी is an awe-inspiring figure to say the least, and the best part about her is that while she speaks immaculate, polished English like it were her mother-tongue, she will- at a moment's notice- switch back to the पिंडी मुटियार from the by-lanes of प्रेम नगर and say something incredibly funny in ठेठ पंजाबी, causing the rest of us to breaks into guffaws and causing चाचा to giggle like a school girl.

However, I recall that the legendary मासी caused Monu and me much grief in our growing years because we could never measure up to her awesome ways. And as I found out during her recent visit, the legendary मासी continues to cause us much grief by her immaculate habits of cleaning everything and putting everything back in place. See, when it is just Monu and me, we do hear a little grumbling now and then from चाची but we are able to comfortably ignore it and go about living like the slobs we are. Now I have noticed that मासीs in general are liked by mothers and चाचीs so it is always trouble to have a मासी around. This time, however we have THE LEGENDARY मासी who cooks, cleans (and not just the kitchen), transfers the left-over food into smaller containers, puts a cling-film over everything, packs Monu's wedding gifts in unbelievably beautiful pink-and-gold wrappings, complete with little golden flowers on top, writes names of people on the wedding-invitation cards (the stickers did not really happen) and goes with चाची to people's homes to give the invitations WHILE AT THE SAME TIME chatting and entertaining everybody with ready replies and really witty comments.

Look at this:



SHE ALSO GOT A CD OF TRADITIONAL पंजाबी songs (including but not limited to मत्थे ते चमकण वाल, लट्ठे दी चादर and बोलियाँ). [THE WRITER WAILS BECAUSE THE WRITER DID NOT THINK OF THIS FIRST AND ALSO BECAUSE THE WRITER CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHY THE WRITER IS REFERRING TO SELF AS 'THE WRITER']

Yeah she makes us look like miserable wretches of the mud.

But boy, did we have a fantastic time in the five days that she was here! YES WE DID INDEED! There was shopping, there were about one year's worth of conversations (mostly gossip) and the best part was that there was about one year's worth of चाचा's leg-pulling to do. I was absolutely delighted about the last bit! See Arti मासी shares a very close bond with her दीदी and I have come to realize that a natural extension of this close-bond is to show affection for दीदी's husband (a.k.a. चाचा) by pulling his leg at every conceivable opportunity. So I do it, Monu does it, Sonu does it, Ram Bhai does it. But when THE LEGENDARY मासी does it, it is totally epic.

It is sad that the legendary मासी had to leave and will in all probability not attend the wedding but we really had a very wedding-like fun time while she was here. When she left, we were all quite heartbroken. By we, I also mean Seema. She did not feel like making रोटीs and was quite convinced we would not feel like eating food after मासी left. It was only with a lot of efforts that we managed to convince her otherwise.

But after that one day of sitting around in gloomy silence, occasionally broken by the "Arti मासी said this..." and "Arti मासी said that...", we geared up for the arrival of Junior दादी-and-फूफा. That is Part#2, which we shall call Part#2.

Meanwhile, here are a few photos from the visit of the legendary मासी:

While she was working...


... the rest of us sat like this...


...or posed like this...


... and like this.



Soma did work but since she does not like her pictures taken and wants to be fairer than she is now, I have devised this excellent method of granting both her wishes.


Who is the fairy Godmother, eh!

PS- If you are wondering what is in the lovely gift packages, कुछ fancy नहीं है, बाल्टी- मग्गे, बर्तन हैं.

Of wedding cards and their envelope-stickers

I am obviously not keeping my promise of the 30-day countdown. But in my defense, the bride and her folks finish work only after midnight, be it shopping or lists and after the customary gossip-session that follows the end-of-work everyday, I cannot bring myself to start writing.

Since the last update, we have been crazy busy. After the wedding invitation-task was completed, we were waiting for चाचा to get the stickers for the envelopes. The stickers were to have the name of each guest we are inviting, the residential address and the golden words "with family" on them.

Obviously, he forgot about the stickers.

So when he was reminded by an understandably hyperventilating चाची about the sample sheet of these stickers about one hour before he had promised to hand them over to her, he sat down with a page torn out of one of our old, school-notebooks, made a list of about 15 of his friends and acquaintances, gave it to one very nice man who adores चाचा for reasons we do not know nor care to find out and who runs a printing business here and came back two hours later with the promised sheet of sample stickers.

Obviously, it was a disaster. For one, there was only Mr. XYZ. No "with Mrs." No "with family". Several names were like this:

Mr. Jaggi
Mr. Pappu
Mr. C.V.
(These were friends of Chacha's whose actual name he did not bother to write)

Obviously, चाची was uncontrollable in her wrath. So starting THAT VERY POINT all of us sat down and began making a list of the invitees, and as a sign of his repentance, चाचा made me type "Mrs. and Mr. XYZ, with family".

Obviously we chatted more than we worked. The task was not one to take 2 days but with every name that was mentioned, there accompanied- on an average- 10 minutes of gossip about the person concerned, including but not limited to mimicking, sarcastic comments, गिल्ले and rarely a good word.

Here are a few photos from one of the days:


One part work...


... and one part gossip!


Yours truly, typing diligently. I have not cropped my face. My mother, who took these pictures probably thought my face was not fit to be included in the frame! [hmmphh]

PS- The girl hiding her face in the pictures is my little sister Soma who has a massive phobia of cameras and like all teenage girls, thinks she is the ugliest duckling around.

Mummy 1 and Papa 1 versus Mummy 2 and Papa 2

So for sometime now, Monu and Rahul have begun referring to each other's parents as Mummy and Papa. So now they have two Mummys and two Papas. When we were in school, if we had two children with the same first name, the said children would be numbered to help simplify the life of the teacher and to complicate the life of the numbered children. I remember in my class, we had a Prerna Sharma 1 and a Prerna Sharma 2, who sometimes fought over certificates, since it could be either's.

So in the case of Monu and Rahul too, with them having two Mummy's and two Papa's each, I have numbered the parents for the sake of convenience. It is simple. The biological folks are numbered 1 and the spouse's folks are numbered 2.

Today is Monu's birthday. The Western habit of midnight-celebrations and phone calls has firmly planted its tentacles in India but the backward folks of the Kakkar family, who are now known as Mummy 1 (Monu's mom a.k.a Chachi) and Papa 1 (Monu's dad a.k.a Chacha) are yet to catch up to this trend. I have mentioned in an earlier post that Papa 1 is known to throw his kids out of home at 10 p.m. when the kids have to board the 11:55 p.m. train because Papa 1 finds it difficult to stay up after 9 p.m. by when he has had a couple. Mummy 1, on the other hand does not imbibe but does wake up at ungodly hours and therefore cannot stay up even moderately late at night either.

Now Mummy 2 and Papa 2 are very cool people. They wake up late, they go to malls in Delhi and they eat an insane amount of non-vegetarian food for people who are Sharma's (Brahmins). We love them. The fact that they wake up late also implies that they sleep late so in our eyes, they are awesomely cool.

Parents often take advantage of the fact that they are the only set their children have. So when we saw that Monu now has an additional set, we tried to take full advantage of this fact by saying "Monu के दूसरे Mummy and Papa तो कब का मान जाते". This has not worked too well in our advantage because Mummy 1 does not care and Papa 1 really could not care any less.

However, I was delighted to see Papa 1 and Mummy 1 squirming a little today when we announced that Mummy 2 and Papa 2 had actually stayed up until midnight to wish Monu bang at 12 a.m. "How wonderful" "How thoughtful" "What considerate people" and so forth we exclaimed, while Mummy 1 shifted uneasily and said she DID stay up till fifteen minutes to 12 and wished Monu so it does count and Papa 1, after staring at each of us in a failed attempt to subdue us with a stern gaze, began staring at the ceiling like he had just spotted the map to a secret Dairy-Land there.

Yes, there is no point to this post. Is there ever, I ask you before I say goodnight?



Now, goodnight.

Day 29- The one where I was harassed by Seema

Dear blog, today, we (a.k.a Chachi, my friend Aastha and I) finished the wedding card invitation folding task. Yay us! The bride is back in town (woot woot!) and she has brought her लेहंगा, the details of which will be shared on one of those days when I have nothing to write about. अब आपसे क्या छुपायें, रोज़ रोज़ इन् परिवार के लोगों से noteworthy हरकतें करवाना थोड़ा मुश्किल हो जाता है. For now, suffice to share that it is purple in colour and is mind bogglingly gorgeous!

In an earlier post, I had mentioned we got a new refrigerator and a new 21-year old girl to help with household chores including cooking. If you read the post (by clicking here) you will notice that I use the adjective "sweet" to describe Seema. Well I don't mean that anymore.

See, in the time since I wrote THAT post and today, she had converted into a sharp-tongued nightmare who has made it her life's goal to harass me. I am now 26 and in my wizened age, I am used to being a certain way, wearing certain kinds of clothes and living in my own set ways. So you can imagine my incredulity when this 21 year old suddenly makes it her mission to "groom me". And to add serious insult to injury, her classroom method is sarcasm!

I first noticed that she was cornering me when during our card-folding task yesterday, she kept calling out snide remarks about how I would be a total let-down for my parents when I get married because I would be a horrible बहु (I swear when she used the word बहु for me, I retched a little bit). But with buaji around, she got little chance to talk.

This morning, I walk down grumpily to the kitchen to fix me some breakfast and boil me some nice coffee and there she is, smiling benevolently at me. I assume she was smiling benevolently because that is what psychos do while planning their kill; the only thing I saw was that mean glint in her eyes. Now, I usually do not engage my surly self in any form of communication before breakfast. Chacha says it is because I take time adjusting to reality after my blissful 14 hours of sleep. So when Seema says "आपको मुझे बहुत कुछ सिखाना है" just like that, out of the blue, I don't ask her what the hell she is talking about. I proceed with frying them eggs and boiling my coffee. But she is undeterred: "आप जब अपने घर जाओगे तो एकदम शर्मिंदा कर दोगे हम लोगों को. अगर कोई बड़ा होता तो आपको सिखाता". It is funny she says that, seeing as not only my parents but my Chachi and Chacha too technically hold that status of "बड़ा" and for a moment she almost corroborated my theory that the "adults" in our family are of no use at all. But more on that some other time.

So as I said, from that time of the morning until she left at the holy hour of 5:30 p.m., Seema followed me around telling me how I will surely cause "them" embarrassment when I go to "my home". Apparently, Seema views one's home as the house of one's spouse's parents where one must slave for all mortal eternity. Furthermore- and this is the truly bizzare bit- apparently Seema is now among my family members who will apparently be embarrassed by my ways.

To save myself the horror of reliving each moment, I will make a brief list of things she said are flawed in me:

1. The red streaks in my hair
2. My tattoos (she offered to scrub these with नींबू to see if they go away)
3. My undignified clothes (the t-shirt must never be longer than the sweatshirt)
4. My clothes (the t-shirt and the sweatshirt must never be worn by girls)
5. The way I talk (apparently, I look people in the eye when I talk)
6. My walk (is too manly; I am not shy enough when I walk)
7. My habit of drinking coffee (Don't ask me, I have no idea)

At this point, I retrieved my trusted i-pod and plugged the blessed earphones to drown her quite unbearable chatter. However, somewhere during the day there came a time just after Barry Manilow's Oh Mandy stopped playing, before Chillar Party's Tai Tai Phish could rescue me that I heard Seema saying how at my age girls should be taking care of at least two children. I am not quite sure if she meant children that said girls of 26 have birthed or just any children.

I am not quite sure how long I can bear this ridiculous behaviour. I mean a crazy family is one thing, but साला अब this too? After the नींबू on my precious tattoo episode, I went wailing to Chachi for comfort but Chachi has firmly said to me that anything that I may have to say to Seema must not be said until after the wedding.

Therefore, i-pod mine dearest, I shall rely on thee to save mine mind from the (un)fair maiden Seema for the coming month.

The 30 day countdown: Assembly Line Woes

I have been away.
(If I wanted to give more explanations, I would have married)


When I started writing about Monu's wedding, I had assumed that my job would be solely to sit in the middle of the storm with my laptop before me and write smart-ass posts about the whole ordeal. Boy (girl, man, woman and child), was I wrong!

These past few days I have been a driver, a wedding-card scanner, a shopping-bags carrier and a wedding-card-folding person (not sure what occupation covers the last). Clearly, this is a bite-size I can barely stuff in my mouth, let alone chew. Today, however was a pleasant change.

Today was fun! We organized a one-hour session today at 4 p.m. just after the ladies of the house have risen from their respective siestas and just before they have their customary evening चाय. By the ladies, I mean of course बुआ, बड़ी मम्मी (Rads' mother) and अपनी चाची.

For two days, I was folding the wedding cards all by myself. Today I wondered why I insist on being such a baboon all the time. I mean here are three perfectly healthy women in my house who love gossip as much as your next three Punjabis and who need a solid reason to convince themselves to step out of home just like your next three Punjabi housewives. So I give them this beautiful little opportunity to gossip during an entirely-justified, nay NECESSARY meeting at our house- folding the wedding cards.

The women arrived promptly and I arranged our seating to fashion an amateur assembly line. I fold the outer card and बुआ folds the inner leaf detailing the wedding function, time and venue. Then बड़ी मम्मी takes the outer cover and places the leaf in it and passes it to चाची who slots the thing in its envelope. By changing the seating a few times (I must add here I was working with a very uncooperative bunch who looked mutinous especially when in switching places, बुआ forgot to carry her cup of चाय and took a sip of चाची की चीनी वाली चाय), I was able to reduce the time taken to fold-slot-and-envelope each card and thereby extract maximum efficiency from the workers.

I was feeling very pleased with myself for having found the perfect way to lessen my burdens and to treat self to a therapeutic session of general bitching. However, I overlooked one detail: While talking animatedly, as Punjabis are wont to do, there is a need for us to constantly fling our arms about wildly to make a point. This of course, creates a hindrance in the work we are supposed to be doing.

So I came up with another ingenious plan: the camera! See, over the years I have noticed that if there are a community of women who are most insecure and camera-shy, it is Pubjabi women. Maybe it is years of being told that they ain't pretty unless they have milky white skins and size four (we like zero but we set realistic impossible-goals) but Punjabi women become berserkly conscious before the camera. My mom, for example claims that there is conspiracy going on somewhere because the only time the video-crew turn the camera towards her during weddings is when she is eating her food.

So I exploit their insecurities as all beauty creams do and station my sister with a camera in her hand over the now-conscious group and they immediately cease their animated hand-gesturing to finish almost half of the wedding invitations.

Peace at the assembly line at last. Here are a few pictures of the moments of mutiny:







The last is a picture of my efficient rule.