Weddings are for the kings & not the kongs

A hefty Monday morning. I take out my multipurpose notebook (multipurpose because it serves as my uni notes, office work, emergency toilet paper, my doodle and thoughts store etc) out in a snail fast 155. My topic of lamenting today is ‘weddings’. Having attended one last night, I’m still afresh with the horrors of it. 

For a guest, a rough draft of the process includes the following stages. The invitation, followed by the scuttle for a suitable wardrobe, then the gift. Invitation – received one month before so that people have time to mentally and financially prepare themselves for the impending trauma. The wardrobe, saree / dress for women while the men have the comfortable option of a suit & tie or gujarati type sarong, top and satake.( I dunno, *shrug* I’m assuming comfortable because I’ve never heard of a man tripping and falling over his own damn cloths unlike us women folk, i.e. mostly me) 

The saree: Do not even get me started on that horror. I will map out the difficulties that I as a wearer of an annual saree, face. Taking it from the top, the jacket. Costing a whooping 1 k (and that is only thanks to a small glitch at the jacket place to which I just shut my trap to. Default price of a well tailored saree blouse is Rs 1500 depending on the design and place.) The price of a decent saree without florescent street lights attached to it, will be Rs 4000/= and above. For a person of bare minimum income, I find that hard to digest. Often because I measure my money in fooditary terms. For ex, how many cheesecakes would I have to sacrifice for these two bra cups? (For those of you who don’t know what bra cups do, how else do you think a backless jacket is so well, uh round structured without a bra? Fyi the agonizing hours from dressing to de-dressing can only be bourn in a seated position.)

My colleague who has a few forthcoming weddings to attend, informs me of shoe prices being Rs 2500/= and I’m like what are they even made of? Leprechaun gold? To heck with it, Ima borrow a pair, at this point in the expense theory I don’t really care if they don’t match. Accessories, purse, make up are also included in the above mess. It’d help if you know how to wear your saree too, without going to get it worn. Which is what I had to do. Rs 400/= there. I felt a bit constricted inside my jacket, and all bundled up inside my saree, a little out of breath and bound. Not my most confident disposition. Rather than risking looking like a dysfunctional hello kitty to the wedding, I chose to do my own mild make up of eyeliner, blush and lipstick only. Price for professional make up plus hair do at a salon is Rs 1200/= 

Ok so that’s settled. We have something to wear. Now what to get for them. Depending on the relationship between you, you will have to assess that. To me the most logical gift would be cash as opposed to pots and pans. They decided on starting a life together so I’m pretty sure we can entrust them with choosing the best kitchen utensils for said future. And anyway, the wedding would have cost an arm, a leg and an entire life time of savings, we can at least try to compensate. 

Next, how to get there. Depending on the location from your point A to point B, you do the math.

And finally after much huff and puff, constant mental disciplines by my mind’s eye to help me maneuver myself on the floor thanks to the plat formed heels and a few yards of trailing agony, I get there. At the hall, I look presentable. Was all the drama worth it? Shape ithin, comme ci comme ca. 

Until I see all the children. Naughty, runny, drippy, loud, somewhat squishible children were practically everywhere, on the floor, on chairs, on the wall, kicking things, biting things. I shudder at the very sight. At my wedding, there will be no children. Ok, maybe a few. Just to add to the decorum and interior designing. Urgh. I don’t know. 

See, I have mixed feelings about children. They are all of the above adjectives and more. I suppose they are ok to be watched from behind bars or from a safe distance but not to tame and be house broken into. Well ok, sometimes they are cute, in a very disgusting sort of way. And they are kind of squishy. But only, I repeat only from a distance. Reminds me of this time I saw these two kids at the mall. The elder brother aged 8ish was towing the younger sister aged 4ish on a leash. Can you believe it? On fricki’n leash! The maternal parts of me were shocked and amused at the inhumane logic that went behind it. Nobel prizing winning invention of the month. I’d get a patent on that if it were me. 

I sound horribly cruel and unlady like. In my defense, I’m a very kind and compassionate person. I love everyone humane. Even children. Just that I don’t want any of my own. Or around me, poking me, drooling on me, pinching me et all. I do not go “awwwwww” at the sight of icky children like most of my lady friends but I do take care of many broken creatures. I can’t help it if I prefer mange’d and flee bitten kittens and puppy dogs to small children. 

Subconsciously, I envy them. They can run about breaking things, scream, poop, scratch their bum, yawn at important yet-oh-so boring public functions and can still get away with almost anything. Which is when I realize, this whole thing is about children anyway. An entire bleeding wedding is about the children. Is it not? 

You marry to have kids? Ok so, the science behind it does not dictate that you have to sign a piece of paper and say icky things to each other in front of a crowd just for an egg to fertilize.  *scoff*  But the general idea is so that one starts a family blah blah, mudu maru, property re-owned etc etc. 

But who cares, I am here to eat. And eat I shall. My first, last and only thoughts at a wedding is FOOD. Having had physically prepared myself, dawasama katath hadagena and even dressing the saree so that it leaves plenty of bundi expansion space for when the food starts rolling in, I’m sure as heck not going to get intimidated by the sheer crowd of well dressed and well disciplined people who have attended. It helps if you have a ‘bundi buddy’ of course, so that you can do a proper critical appraisal of the food, how the food will be at your own wedding, to help camouflage any blunders caused by dislodged forks and mouth dribbles and for mutual do-I-have-food-stuck-between-my-teeth check etc. My bundi buddy was a colleague of mine whose bundi, as he proudly presents, is the center of attraction often preceding his own presence by half an hour ahead of him when entering any place. The two of us started gobbling every edible thing in sight starting from the bites till the detachable chocolate things off the decorative pudding. 

Suffice to say, the food was good. Well worth the entire fiesco that got me there in the first place. During the meal, we were counting liquor shots of this cute old uncle and discussing how our own weddings would be. For starters his would have no forks and spoons. I agree. It is such a waste to throw away that unpolished piece of chicken leg. Pity how we cannot reach through the nooks and corners and sooppufy it without the use of our fingers. Nothings beats the satisfaction of leaving a plate bone dry. Plus there are children in Africa without anything to eat. Gentle reminder. WE MUST NOT WASTE FOOD OR WATER. 

My ideal wedding would be on the beach. Ours is an island surrounded by the sea. Plus I love the salt in my hair, waves, sandy shores, the appetizing evening skies etc. So it’s only obvious that I’d keep mine near the sea and I’d want the beach huts, burning pol katu stands, the works. Or any water body for that matter. Seeing as how I love water and my name is kind of water. Everyone can wear sarongs, banyans, bandanas, thal athu skirts, flip flops, anything and everything that they are comfortable with and not too expensive.  (Frankly any nice place where one can’t wear heels is fine. There will strictly be no heel wearing by me at me wedding.)

No one would have to show off to everyone else and just be cool with it and more to the point, have fun. Without comparisons, judgments and hypocrisy. The closest people I know and love are none like that so I’m good to go. There will be only 120 people at the wedding. Only my close friends, close relatives etc. Same with the groom. Together we’d have the closest people to us only. People who actually give a rat’s ass as to who we are and genuinely care about our well being, and who’d help us in an emergency as we them. The next door neighbor’s son’s niece’s pet gold fish will NOT be included in the guest list. 

Soon after we eat, its kinda time to head back now. We wish the couple good night and congratulate them and pose to group pictures. Ours was comparatively better because we took the liberty of smiling to the picture rather than portraying multiplied faces of my-grand-mother-passed-away-yesterday like the others. But by now, the couple is also probably wishing that a few grandmothers had actually passed away so that they could be anywhere else but there. (Dark humor there. Please let not any grandmothers perish. I love grannies! unf)

There will be a lot of dancing. And music. Any type of dancing, hip hop, baila, jive, the crazy chicken, etc etc. People will be shaking booties left, right and centre irrespective of their ability to do so. We will do a small dance number so that everyone goes “aw” and joins in at the end of it. 

There will also be a cute video/presentation of how the two of us lived until we met each other and till the day I agreed with him that his surname would suit just fine next to mine. 

On that mushy note, I will climb back down from my fluffy pink cloud and get back to my aimless wanderings. 

The writer is a kong as opposed to a king. Hence the dramatic title on the wedding ranting. The starting of the passage says that all this was written in a notebook inside a bus. Part of it was, the rest typed away at the ease of her laptop. The writer like many of her counter parts has thoughts that if not recorded at the time of inception, is lost forever. 

Another thought that crossed her mind during her bus ride was how when seated at an aisle seat, she finds it disturbing that her face is only a few inches away from an unknown guy's ding dong. Yes it is covered by a few layers of material and no, the man is not a pervert, just a random dude minding his own business. She cannot be the only one who is bothered by the fact that it just there, dangling only a few feet away’. 

 p.s. the writer has no immediate need or want to get married any time soon, so all you eager mac beavers who go 'kawdda bandinne?' can shove it. Even if she does, plausibly not, they will not be invited. She will instead be a wanderer, walking among the places and people she loves the most and rescuing stray animals whenever she can.