Tag Archives: Action Adventure

Letter to my 18 year old self

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I was reading an issue of Marie Claire where they had held a contest of people writing to their 18 year old former selves – the winning letters were very interesting – so I stole the idea .. mainly because the eighteen year old me was such a dumbass and I’d love to kick her in the butt

Dear 18 year old Ritu

I know you think you are the cats’ whiskers because you top every exam you take and are really pretty to look at, but remember that you can get straight As and still flunk life – don’t you shrug and roll eyes at me, young lady!!!

Oh that husband of yours, he’s bad news. I know you fought with every one to marry him and have your baby, but when you are 30 with two sons, you’ll have had enough and kicked him out of your life. Do I hear you weeping? Good, I love putting you down a peg or two … smirk!!!

Don’t invest 18 whole years in a bad relationship, don’t listen to Mom – a broken marriage is not the end of the world and why should you pay such a high price for a mistake you made at 17? Actually what the hell … do it exactly the way you do it because that marriage gives you two beautiful sons whom you will absolutely adore and a whole lot of courage that you did not know you had.

You are such an idiot but I love you. You better work on your self confidence because you/we are going to need it big time in life. You do have great social skills okay, because you like people.

By the way, I am so glad that you did not drop out of college and stuck on. At least we have a career.

Oh don’t try to grow your hair long please …. It doesn’t suit you. Cut it short and save us years of embarrassing photos. And please eliminate all the pastel colours from your wardrobe – they make you look yellow!!

Exercise – please exercise so that you don’t have a weight problem in future. I know you wont listen to me but I just thought of putting it here …..

Other than that … keep doing what you are doing, you’re a good person and I love ya, you big dumbass!!

Your wiser, stronger and so much older 46 year old self

I tag any one who would like to take a trip down memory lane to visit their 18 year old selves

As Shakespeare said .. What’s in a name?

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I do not do kitty parties – they are so fake and catty. I have bad memories from the ones I was dragged into by my mother. At any given time, she was a member of at least about 6 or 7 of them and she enthusiastically attended all of them and dragged me to quite a few Gaaaah!. Thankfully now ladies have stopped trying to get me to participate in them as they have concluded that (a) I am a snob (b) I am socially inept (c) I will attend, smile vaguely, have a glass of water and disappear as soon as I can. My own opinion (purely personal) is that kitty parties are for cats.

A very young person who is a chat friend of mine discovered this much to her heart ache. This person was married about 5 years ago and has elected to keep her maiden name. I think that it is purely her own choice, and if her family is okay with it, it is all right. There is no legal requirement that a woman has to forfeit her identity just because she has got married. We have been living in a male dominated society since centuries and girls were married so young. They did not have time to forge an identity for themselves. So overnight, a woman went from being Miss so and so, the darling daughter to Mrs. Husband. Since they had not been working, opened bank accounts, got pan cards etc, it was okay and besides the dear husband got a kick out of it. Come to think of it, in certain communities, they even change the first name of the bride. Talk about sacrificing your entire identity. I think it is very inconvenient in this day and age. My DIL has kept her maiden surname as a middle name and many young women do that now a days.

Well this young lady went to her neighbourhood kitty party where her husband’s female relatives had probably aired their discontent about her “not integrating into the family” since she had not changed her surname, and the ladies had a ball being bitchy about this. Why is it that women are women’s worst enemies? When I called it quit with ex, for a whole lot of sordid reasons – I refused to use his surname either. My mother opposed me vehemently on this as she did in each and every thing I did and refused to let me revert to my maiden name. Kittys and Cats yeah!!! Well, I am her daughter you see and I refused to back down, and legally changed my last name and my sons’ last name to the first name of my father. She could not do much about that. This Round  to Me yeah !!!

I gave the young lady this link . I wish she feels braver and not so oppressed when she learns that she is not alone in this.

I Gallop Yee Haw!!!

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I went to the mall yesterday … something that I rarely do – what with two college going children and pockets to let. Yeah I avoid it since I suffer from the “Me wants everything” syndrome. There was a huge amount of people in the lobby trying out massage chairs and other stuff from Osim. I have a foot massager from this company so I hung around checking out the products and I saw the iGallop priced at a whopping Rs.35,000/-. The brochure says this

Tone, Shape, Fun

  • Get toned
    Regular sessions on the iGallop will tone up your abdominal, back and thigh region.
  • Correct your posture
    Good posture is essential in preventing back aches and strain. It also makes you look tall and confident.
  • Lose weight
    The continuous exercise burns energy and helps you burn away unwanted flabs.
  • Build strength
    Strong muscles also improve your metabolism rate, increasing the burning rate of stored fats.

It also uses scantily clad ladies to sell this. The sales guy latched on to me and assured me that I could get this on instalments. Hmm, nice though I would only shell out if it came bundled with The Rock aka Scorpion King and a country western bar. I saw some kids riding on it – they were having fun, though it threw one of them off when the other pushed the speed to a higher level.  Nice!!  Now all they need is to add some options or frills – like the surface around the unit. People could choose between air mattress or rubber mat (and for the more adventurous ones…mud, jello, whip cream, and foam) – geedy up horsey!

No, I did not try to ride it …. was tempted but it was the lobby of a mall for godsake!!!

or the more sexy one

My elder son’s wedding Part 4

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GET ME TO THE MANDAP IN TIME

During the period between the Roka and the actual wedding both the boys wanted to know more about the rituals from all and sundry. I could not help much since I am (their words) irreverent, have a corny sense of humour and can not resist the temptation to exaggerate with the sole purpose of torturing my sons. So I smiled sweetly and told them weddings are womens’ things and they would be spared all the drama ;)

Poor Kid#1 – he fell for it.

By this time DIL and I had bonded extremely well. Nothing bonds women better than shopping for clothes and jewellery, I must say. I rang her up and related this entire conversation to her. We were in splits. Oh yes, another common ground for bonding is ganging up together on the poor man sandwiched between wife and mother. Deliciously wicked ;)

Kid#1 was being given much bhav by his in-laws. It reminded me of fattening of a calf before slaughter and I said so. Ouch!!! Sundry friends and relatives enlightened me that soon my son would change his loyalties etc. etc. Duh! I am the most un-maternal parent, and would love it if someone else took charge of my brats. Besides, he had been like an angry porcupine lately … what with all that shopping and other chores, that I was looking forward to handing him over, quills and all to his wife.

D.Day dawned and he got his first nasty surprise. We had the haldi ceremony. He had firmly told me that he would have none of that nonsense. DIL and I had sweet-talked him into agreeing to a small ritual. What he did not realize was that all his pals were waiting in the sidelines. As soon as he sat down, they pounced.

Second nasty surprise … I had called some beauty parlour guys home for the bridegroom. He looked at me totally baffled and said, “I am not getting all this shit done” I smiled sweetly, picked up my mobile and asked while punching the number “Should I tell DIL? She suggested that we do this.” Poor guy, he had just washed all that haldi stuff off himself and he got a face pack on. After the manicure and pedicure, the guy asked, “Sir, nail polish ka shade select karo” and Kid#1 turned purple as his eyes dared me to react.

Third nasty surprise …. The flower guys came to decorate the nuptial bed. I wisely disappeared at this point, and the various relatives had a field day pulling the groom’s leg. He refused to get the bed decorated, so a compromise was achieved. Just two huge flower arrangements in the bedroom – thank you so much.

Some of the ladies sweetly told him “Go to sleep beta, its going to be a long night”. I must say, no one but a Punjaban can deliver such a simple line with such a wicked punch. Kid#1 stomped off muttering huffily, “I feel like a pansy, I even smell like one! Gah! Even my room smells girlie” LOLL, Yeah kiddo, you better get used to it.

Fourth nasty surprise … he had put his foot down firmly …. no ghodi (horse). When we stepped out, there was this ghodi. I pacified him with the now standard plea, “Beta rituals etc etc and your FIL wanted you to at least sit on one for a photo”. He could have killed me then, but then who would do all the work? He climbed on sullenly for a few photos and got down and we left for the venue.

Fifth nasty surprise … another ghodi was waiting for him at the venue. He did not throw a tantrum there … all his lovely sister in laws were waiting inside the gate, smiling at him. He climbed on and we reached the gate with much fanfare. Phew!!!!

Once there, I escorted him to his throne …. and sat down to watch as the bride’s family took over. My baby, I had him to myself for 24 long years and I love him to bits. He looked so handsome. Good Luck, my little Prince – may you and your bride have a wonderful life together.

 

My elder son’s wedding Part 3

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THE COCKTAILS

DIL’s parents are good people and very very responsible parents. I am totally awed by them. They did all the traditional and good stuff like having poojas and carting off both my boys along with their offsprings to various sacred places and getting them blessed. I simply love them for it. In a few months’ time, i.e. six months from the roka, they had solved the problem of relating to me by treating me just like they treated DIL. They would scold both of us in the same breath for overspending and over shopping, and try to restrain us from our excesses. In other words I felt right at home with them.

Then came the shopping and the sulks. No shaadi can happen without them. Like Mad Momma says Weddings are for women, by women and about women. Men are just there to facilitate it. Kid#1just did not get it. It was his wedding too, and why did I have to freak out buying loads of pink/red/maroon/orange glittery stuff and jewellery worth loads of money for DIL. What about him?? It did not help that his beloved and his mother looked at him blankly and said “Huh?! What about you, you’re getting your bride aren’t ya?” Mercifully he did not complain too vocally, just kept sulking. Since he is the quiet sort normally, we ignored him happily.

The wedding was in the last week of January and in the interest of having a good time I opted to host a cocktail party cum shagun cum ladies sangeet a few days before the wedding. My feet were killing me by this time and even when I closed my eyes in the night, escalators of malls and glittery saris floated in front of my eyes. I had seen enough bling to last me a long long time. This mother of the groom had had enough, and needed to unwind. I mean, weddings are supposed to be fun, right? And I don’t have parents to stop me, and the traditions were being satisfied by DIL’s side. So I could be myself and do some stuff my way. I must add over here that my sons and DIL also egged me on. Kid#1 and DIL actually refused to have a reception in lieu of a totally rocking cocktail. She did not compromise on the engagement ring though ….. sigh!!!!! It is beautiful but was frightfully expensive.

So we had a non traditional cocktail party. We organized a live band, Kid#1 wanted rock music, but thankfully compromised. My ear drums and dental fillings still thank him for it. DIL wanted to wear a sexy black dress and not a saree. I had no problems with that one. Her wedding right?? And her lovely figure and cleavage … she could do what she wanted. On the D Day the photographers were in a tizzy – they kept asking in total confusion “Aunty, dulhan kaun hai?” I kept pointing at the hot stuff at centrestage happily “Voh aapki dulhan hai, uska photo lo” until someone corrected me – “Say Voh humari dulhan hai, for godssake!!”.

The cocktails were out in the open at a farm house, and the weather was pleasant – mercifully, no rains. All those visits to various shrines bore fruit I guess … it was good weather. For the life of me I can not remember much of the actual party. I remember nervously waiting for the guests, then I remember greeting DIL and her family. By that time I must have had two drinks. After that, it is very hazy.

After the wedding, the bride and groom had gone for their honeymoon when DILs parents called me over to see the wedding album. Their photographer had been more efficient than ours – so their album and video came much earlier. I was very excited and went to their home straight from work. You can just imagine my horrified reaction when I saw the album of the function, there are FOUR candid shots of me of me downing wine straight from the bottle!!! Oooops!!!

Well anyways ….. But the best photos of that event are Kid#1 on his knees with the ring in front of DIL with this lovesick smile on his face. An enlarged version of that one now adorns their bedroom. And of course the priceless shot of Kid#2 being kissed on his cheeks simultaneously by two of DIL and Kid#1’s female friends. He has this huge smile on his face … totally ecstatic!!! That 17 year old was in heaven :)

 

My elder son’s wedding Part 2

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THE ROKA

At the very outset, let me assure you that the entire story is the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God      :)

Honest!!!  Even though I have fertile imagination, I could not have invented this.  You have to admit this is vintage blogging material.      :)

I knew DIL as one of Kid#1′s group of friends, no surprises there …. so had no problems with the match.  I suppose her parents thought likewise.  Things progressed fast.  I discovered that Kid#1 could be quite obedient, provided I routed my demands through DIL, and so made hay while the sun shone.  Many life changing decisions were reached thanks to the good offices of DIL.  Then came the Roka …. the initial pooja held to declare the intent to marry so to speak.  I was in favour of a long engagement, her parents wanted a formal declaration.  Since I could empathise with their point of view  (they are the ladki vale) - we had the ROKA.

The day dawned bright and clear.  I sent both the boys to get their hair cuts, get the handy cam organised etc etc while I got busy with the millions of things parents of a groom have to do at the last minute.  I have outlived my immediate family so had invited my mother’s sister and husband as family for the ceremony.  It was terribly hot that day.  August normally is not so hot.  We had to reach DIL’s maika at 7 p.m.  I normally dont wear saris or make up.  So whenever the occaision demands, I go to a beauty parlour to dress up.  It is easy and they do a better job than I ever could.  By 5 p.m. I had left for the parlour, the plan being that Kid#2 would go with my uncle and aunt to DIL’s maika which is 5 minutes from our place, and Kid#1 and I would follow by 7 pm.  It started raining by 6 p.m.  By 6.30 p.m. it was a deluge.  Somehow Kid#1 who was looking very very handsome in his fine suit, and I (much bedecked in saree and jewellery) got into the car and we started driving down to DIL’s home.   We looked at the watch, it was 7 p.m. and we were out of petrol.  We started driving to the petrol pump, which was almost impossible …. since all the roads were flooded.  Somehow we persevered, all the while blaming each other for the lapse in judgement.  Dammit we should have filled the tank a day earlier.  Then things started getting really interesting.

1. We had almost reached the petrol pump, when the car got waterlogged and died out.

2. The entire city’s power supply went.

3. While we were wondering what to do, a truck drove very close to our car and waves of water flowed in from beneath the car floor wetting the skirt of my saree and my sandals and Kid#1′s very fine trousers and shoes.

4. Both of us stopped fighting and looked at each other speechless.  Then we started looking for plan no. 2.

5. Kid#1 decided that he would push the car while I would try to start it.

6. It was 8 p.m.

7.  We tried to start the car, we really really did …. but the car had decided that there would be no Roka I guess.  It refused.  By this time all the roads were littered with dead cars.  It became impossible to push start the car – there was no space. 

8. Kid#1′s fine suit looked like a rag, I was sitting inside the car with my saree hitched above my knees and sandals on the dashboard.  My make-up and hairdo …… what make up and hairdo?????

9. It was 9.15 p.m.

10. Kid #1 gave up and came and sat down in the car, sweating profusely.  I gave him a tissue and while he was wiping his face my foot-in-mouthitis kicked in and I said “Chala Murari Hero Ban Ne”.  He glared and said icily, “Not Funny!” and I tried (I swear I did) not to laugh.

11. It was 9.30 p.m.  The rain was down to a drizzle.  DIL’s father and brother came looking for their dulha and rescued us.

12. We ditched the car and went to their home in their car ….. and Kid#1 had his roka in his brother-in-law’s kurta pajama and I graced the ceremony in a dripping wet saree.

Ah well …. just another normal day in our insane life …………

My elder son’s wedding Part 1

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I have got inspired by Mad Momma’s hilarious post on her wedding video, and so here is the fruit of this inspiration. I got married in the dark ages, colour tv was years away, and so mercifully was spared of creative licence taken by video cameramen. The only weird stuff I have is a very theatrical shot of my mehendi covered hands with ex’s face smack in the middle.

Kid#1 was not so lucky {insert evil grin} Being born in the age where phone cameras and instant recording are the norm, he simply did not have a chance. Kid#1 is reserved and did not show much interest in the opposite sex. It became a matter for concern to me since Kid#2, 8 years his junior reached his teens and discovered girls in a big way. Then the unexpected happened. Kid#1 declared that he had fallen in love ….. an announcement which led to much hysterical merriment from Kid#2 and me. No I am describing it all wrong. Let me begin again ………………       :)             :)

Gentle sounds of Backstreet Boys instead of Savage Garden are wafting out of Kid#1’s room. I walk in surprised and concerned, closely followed by Kid#2

Me : Are you okay

Kid#1 : Yeah I guess so (accompanied by goofy smile)

Kid#2 : Dude your taste in music has become bad, It sucks!!!!

Me : Nah, I think it’s improved. Wassup?

Kid#1 : I dunno …. Something is happening to me …. I feel kinda different

Me : Tummy upset ?

(Don’t knock it, in my years of child rearing I have found that Digene solves many a problem)

Kid#1 : (Dreamy eyed and all smiley ) No ……

Kid#2 : (Looking horrified) What’s wrong with you – you look corny

And rushes to the p.c. to change the music to some rock

Kid#1 : No, don’t. Just let Backstreet Boys play

Both of us : WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU??????

Kid#1 : I think I am in love

Total stunned silence … both Kid #2 and I exchange surprised glances and burst into giggles. I try to stifle the giggles and ask

Me : When ? Who?? Are you aware that you need a female to fall in love with?

Kid#2 : Why?

Kid#1 : It is {insert DIL’s name}. I asked her to marry me.

Me : Huh!!? Excuse me? Arent you supposed to say you are in love, date for a while and then propose?

Kid#1 : (With idiotic grin on face) I just know its right – so I proposed

Me : (Mentally applying brakes on my hysteria) I am so happy for you, but ……

Kid#2 : Baffled totally : Why? And why are you listening to sappy music?

Me : Totally losing it and clutching my stomach at this point : Ha Ha Ha

Kid #1 : protesting : Ma!!!!!!

Both Kid#2 and I flee from the room

Growing old is mandatory, growing up …. optional

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So another year gone by, and another set of wrinkles to contend with …. sigh!!! The sad part is that the inner me simply refuses to believe that I have grown old become middle aged. Dammit, I refuse to grow old gracefully how so ever much my sons and dil would like me to act my age. I do not know how women my age are supposed to act like – so I guess we have a big big problem. I can not relate to saas bahu serials or the Aastha Chanel. News is okay sometimes … I like watching WWE and ogling at chocolate boy heroes. The only time I am reminded of the fact that I’ll never see 45 again is when my darling boys remind me of it – spoil sports. Cant imagine why I carried them for 9 months each, and then toilet trained them. Should have left them to rot in their soiled diapers.

I dont mind growing old – as if I’ll stop ageing if I mind heh? In my mind’s eye I still look somewhere around 25, so I get a shock when I see my photos. It is like OMG – I cant believe this is me. I guess I better start accepting that this is what I look like, and get it over with. But I still have a lot of life left in me. So I cant sit tamely and embroider or make achars or do whatever women my age are supposed to do.

What is with every one in this youth centric world? Just because a woman reaches a certain age, they start acting as though she can not exert herself or even look after her self outside the kitchen. I went into the office loo and as soon as I locked the door, the darn handle came off in my hand. So I did what any sensible person in my position would do … I finished my business, and then tried to re-attach the handle so that I could walk out. No such luck. So I rang up the housekeeper and explained my predicament. Once he understood what had happened, he was much amused and told me to stay put while he unscrewed the lock. I waited for about 5 minutes and then rang him up again. …….

Me : Sumerji, kya hua

Him : Madamjee, hum ladeej bathroom ke bahar hi hain. Abhi wait kariye (accompanied by many male giggles)

Shit, I wonder, how many people are outside – dont they have work to do???

Well the tone of his voice was so irritating that I took matters in my own hand. I opened the window and tried to climb out into the balcony. As luck would have it, my shoe fell off my foot inside the bathroom. I was standing in the window sill trying to decide whether to jump out regardless … or jump back into the bathroom barefoot (horrors!!!) when the lock got unscrewed and door opened. The man walks in (he is older than me by at least two years) and starts scolding me “Aap ladeej log najuk hote ho. Aap ko is umar mein aise kaam nahin karne chahiye. Your bones will crack or you will hurt yourself somehow!!!” The Haryanavi MCP to the core!! I somehow manage to smile, hop in on one foot, quickly slip the other into the darn shoe and walk out thanking him with poor grace.

Excuse me, I am not NAJUK. I grew up with a whole lot of brothers, real and cousin, and was known to terrorise the entire lot of them and have defeated them many times in boyish games. That was then and this is now I guess …

I can soooo empathise with this lovely quote:

“I refuse to admit I’m more than fifty-two, even if that does make my sons illegitimate” Nancy Astor

Party Time

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229445014v6_240x240_front.jpgLast Wednesday there was a party at the boss’s house (palace). Ever wonder why official parties are so …… painful???? You have this classy venue, beautifully decorated, exotic cuisine, expensive booze, but one really has to be soooo prim and propah!!!!!

His Highness and his family were being so nice and gracious doing the rounds. Once I had met the guests I knew, I settled down to my favorite pastime, drinking and watching others. It is such fun. :)

Friends of His Highness and family were keeping to their sorts (rich and famous) the women checking out every one else’s clothes and jewellery, men checking out every woman’s figure……the union leaders wolfing down the food and drinks as though they had been starving for the last millennium. The lower rung employees happily getting drunk stationed either near the bar or the loo. Then there is us ::::: “the inner circle” or “chamchas”, depending on whether we are in earshot or out of it. We smiled our hellojis and namasteys cordially and then hung around with each other politely. We definitely could not get happily drunk, we certainly did not want to talk shop – and we have precious little else in common. I got rid of them soon and joined Kid#2 and D.I.L.

Of course Kid#2 had got us a lovely table close to the bar. It really is an art :) There we proceeded to drink seriously. I kid you not, since the Angel of Joy could not be everywhere, God gave us booze. 3 glasses of wine and D.I.L. started missing her husband aka Kid#1. She got emotional and sleepy (don’t ask me how she managed to do that) and had to be dropped home. Kid#2 took her home and I managed to get myself 2 LITs and a whole lot of snacks…….

Of course after all that I needed to visit the washroom. Since I know the palace very well, I walked inside hoping to find an unoccupied loo. No such luck. So I sat down on a sofa in one of the rooms waiting for the loo door to open. I was quite happy, I had my glass in my hand and was watching the party from the French windows and the loo opened and out came one very senior person I know accompanied by his subordinate’s wife. I think for me the party began right then!!!! Till then it was an official do in which I had to be present. I gave them a happy drunk smile, and they smiled guiltily hoping that what I had seen had not registered. So I spared them further embarrassment and rushed into the washroom and came out – finished my LIT. I swear to God till then I was just buzzing. Then I got rollickingly drunk – and it was not my fault. It was the fault of my imagination and the couple that I had witnessed.

By the time Kid#2 came back to the party, I think I could not even walk straight. He had dinner and I had an Irish Coffee. It was a miracle that I could walk straight, and wish the royalty goodnight and thank them for the wonderful party. We were served cigars at the party and we smuggled some home with us. Once home, I let my hair down lit a cigar and started singing “Mauja hi mauja” and doing bhangra in the front yard. Poor Kid#2, he was so annoyed!!!! Two drunk women is a bit much to handle for him. Aaaah kiddo, you’ll learn. Consider this good practice for the rest of your life. :D

Wedding Vows …. Woes?

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Ever wonder why people look so dazed on their weddings? Picture this scenario ….. There is this perfectly intelligent PYT called for the sake of this blog entry Ms Y. She is wonderful, witty, charming and intelligent. Then there is this gorgeous hunk, who for the sake of this blog entry is named S, he is successful, responsible, charming etc. They are educated, can string words together to mean something, have lived on earth for twenty years minimum, so have gathered life skills. Now we transplant both of them into the mad mad world of Indian weddings today.

First we have a roka, where all sundry relatives from both sides arrive, vet the couple and their parents. Mother in laws are closely scrutinized by the old biddies, the cars by all the elderly men, unmarried girls by all the young and not so young male populace. Food eaten, the mandatory pooja and exchange of gifts done and every one goes away. Phone lines burn as gossip is exchanged about who wore what and how dangerous poor Y’s Mother In Law looked.

One can just imagine Y saying through gritted teeth “It’s about me, not S’s mother dammit. It’s my f—-ing wedding!!!!! And Page 1, Chapter 1 of Saas Bahu soap is written right there and then.

S’s brothers and friends tell S after a whole lot of booze ….. Dude your gal’s cousin …. You know the one in the green dress …… . Man she’s hot!!!! One can imagine S thinking, “Shit, I got the wrong chick” :D

All this – and it’s just the roka!!!! Then comes the engagement, and all the pomp and grandeur. By this time shopping has started in real earnest for the trousseau and the wretched DOWRY issue has also popped out of the closet. The in-laws of both sides have been branded as stingy penny pinching so and so’s. Prophets of doom have pronounced the wedding as a disaster. Y has wept on more than one occaision and S has started looking like a man who has lost the entire war at the very outset. The ring has cost him more than he expected, the circus of the wedding is getting to him. All he wants is the wedding to get over and done with and he can carry his bride into the bedroom. Oh yes, he also ogles unobtrusively at Y’s hot cousin.

Then comes the wedding. It has always amused me that the entire ritual is in Sanskrit. a language neither the bride nor the groom understand. Two perfectly intelligent people reduced to bumbling idiots. The priest spouts some strange mantra in an ancient language and then instructs them to sit or stand or feed the fire or each other. Both of them look at him blankly and obey. No comprehension is expected and none is forthcoming. Kind of weird isn’t it. Even a microwave comes with a manual written in most of the languages of the world, and it is not something that is expected to last for a life time. Marriages still are expected to last. That is if S is not caught making out with hot cousin of Y.

The plus point is that after ten years of marriage, a lot of bored hours can be spent discussing what the mantras meant.

S: Babe, the 3rd mantra right after the pandit made me place my hand on your shoulder specifically said that you must obey and cater to my every whim.

Y: I don’t believe that – but the 5th mantra said that you should keep me happy. Panditji translated it twice. The only way you can do that is by getting me diamond solitaires. You don’t want to upset the Gods do you?

And so it goes on ………………………