Sunday, February 06, 2011

The Cupid Mafia

It's shaadi time! (Shaadi = Marriage in Hindi) No moron, not my shaadi. My nephew, a cousin sister and a friend tied the knot recently and guess what - I was there. Yes, me the never-attending-a-shaadi snob has actually started being part of celebrations of conjugal bliss.
And yeah, my nephew IS married...err... TWO of my nephews are married.

And considering India's unblemished and ever improving excited-hormone track record, I could very well be grand uncle before I turn 30. (UPDATE - I am!)

Note to self -
Now I know why Balika Vadhu (an Indian TV serial that deals with child marriage) doesn't come anywhere close to grabbing my attention. I see that kind of stuff all the time - live. OK I admit, I am stretching the truth a little here.

Now when a 27 year old jawan struts into a family shaadi, dressing well and looking the part is the last thing on his mind (Errr... my mind), if he has designs to escape the cupid mafia. I go as late as I possibly can, dress in the dullest possible clothes and make sure my stubble is at least 24 hours old. I can take the easier route out and not go at all, but hey - I'd go anywhere for free biryani and ice-cream! And of course these experiences make for great writing material.

So here's the drill - conversations with the cupid mafia almost always begin with the customary 'How're you doing?' or 'How's the work scene going on?' and move on to the less subtle 'Shaadi ke baare mein kya socha hai?' (What're your thoughts on marriage?)
Or if there's someone who doesn't know you, he'll head to the nearest common acquaintance and go in Rajasthani - 'Bhaaya, ki ka chora hai?' (Who's son is this brother?)

Note to reader -
To get the full impact of this line, imagine Michael Holding's (A Caribbean ex-cricketer with a drawl as thick as expired peanut butter) saying it complete with the drawl and baritone - "Bhayaaaaa, ki ka chora haaiiii?".

Thankfully, there's still enough understanding and tact present in the world in that the mafia will understand if you tell them marriage figures nowhere in your plans at the moment. Although they're going to pass out when you tell them you're 27.

Note to self -
A 100 years ago I would have been a grandfather at this age.

For the more persistent mafia, you can always make impossible demands of a bride to make them shudder, stutter and pass out once again. By the time they come to, you can always grab another one of those ice creams.

Note to reader -
Impossible demands do not equal dowry demands d***head!

So here's the unofficial mini-list of demands to ensure that your impending 'mangni' (engagement) does not happen (at least not any time soon) -

The girl must -
1 - Know national anthems of at least 5 countries.

2 - Know names of at least 5 heads of states.

3 - Must have less than 15.5% body fat.
Note to reader - Don't ask. Personal fetish.

4 - Have read atleast 5 of Shakespeare's works.
4.A. - Watching Vishal Bhardwaj's movies does not count.

End of list.

Note to reader - You expected more? Dude, this is not my full-time job.

You wouldn't have realized, but you can tell a lot about a girl by her range of answers.

1 - If she knows only the chinese, russian and american anthems - she's too badly hooked on to the olympics.
2 - If she only knows the Indian anthem - she probably goes a lot to the movies.
3 - If she gives you a mouthful on patriotism for daring to ask if she knows other country's anthems and ends the soliloquy with "Chain se sona hai to jag jaao" , she's had a fatal overdoes of brazen hindi news channels. Poor soul.

Note to self -
It's time to gorge on the third ice-cream.

Now that the cupid mafia has passed out sufficient times to realize that I am injurious to their health, it's time to turn my attention to the more fun aspects of a Rajasthani marriage.

We're still a little old fashioned and segregation of the sexes is always right up there on the menu. (Like that's gonna deter me.)
There's always some aunt I wanna catch up but spotting one burkha clad aunt among many others is not a task for the faint hearted. It's like stepping into a minefield. If I run into someone who's past puberty and not yet married, I'm going to have to run through my cupid mafia drill all over again. And even if I don't, I still have a zillion burkha'd aunties to get past before I reach my favourite aunt.

Note to self -
I don't need to play 'Call of Duty :: Black Ops'. I play it in person every time I go to a family wedding.

Going back to the cupid mafia, as religion teaches us everything in this world is made in pairs. So for every male cupid mafia I take out, there's always a female counterpart still out there in the wild. And she's always a step ahead of you. She'll covertly point out a burkha clad figure with just the eyes visible and quietly ask you -'Kaho toh baat chalaaoon?' (Whaddya think 'bout that one?). It's one of those situations when you want to scream out 'F*********k' and get the hell out of the place. But instead, I get a harsh lesson in 'what goes around comes around' - I shudder, stutter and pass out.

Note to self -
The protective body-cover, gloves and all, with only the eyes visible - I'm pretty certain the burkha was the inspiration for the robocop costume. (The French government has single handedly killed on screen vigilante justice by banning the burkha).

Having dodged shaadi-walahs, passed out in the process and played my share of black-ops, I head to wish the bride and the groom. There's a long queue to get on the stage. Growing impatient with every second I'm already thinking of ways to cut the queue and get ahead. I contemplate showing everyone my first class railway pass to get ahead of the line. But if I do that people are gonna take out more valuable passes - like the keys to their lexus or bmw.

Note to self -
I'm gonna try the railway pass trick. Someday.

Once on the stage, you realize that India is still shining. The bride has worn enough jewelery to give the king of bling Bappi Lahiri a complex. But maybe all the gold does serve a practical purpose. It's so damn heavy, the bride can't run away even if she wants to. And did I forget to mention the 25kg lehenga? (The dress of choice for most Indian brides)

Note to self -
1 - You can never remake 'Runaway Bride' in bollywood. Our wedding dresses are so heavy just don't lend themselves to make for a successful elope.
2 - The gold may have been borrowed against a tonne of garlic (Jab ghar mein hai lassun toh kis baat ki tension - You know that garlic prices are at an all time high don't you?).

By the time I've had my picture clicked with the bride and headed to the groom, the photographer has already started making him pose in embarrassing poses for the wedding album. The most common pose is the sideways Swades pose, also made popular by Lalit Modi during IPL sesons I and II. I'm embarrassed, but the groom is positively enjoying it. I think he's already been through so many sidey poses, he's just maxed out. It can't get any worse for him.

More customary pictures with the groom and his errand-boy-posse later, I realize I've had clicked enough photographs clicked on shaadis this season to create my own portfolio.

Note to reader -
The errand-boy-posse is the group of young male relatives or friends that always buzz around the groom in weddings. They covertly get him starters when he's hungry and do cigarette ka 'bandobast' for him.

I catch a cupid mafia in disguise speaking with the photographer, giving me a sly smile while she's at it. (I told you the female mafia is always a step ahead).
Knowing that I have to act fast if I don't want my photographs distributed in the weekly community newsletter, instinct kicks in. I grab the camera, rush to the exit, mount the grooms ghodi and rush to bandstand where the camera meets it's watery end.

Note to reader - Ghodi = Female horse. I've always wondered why Indian grooms mount a female horse and not a male one. After all you are getting married you know! What do you need a female horse for!

At the end of the day, everyones happy -
- I've destroyed the camera, my only material nemesis in the fight against the cupid mafia.
- The groom couldn't be happier - his embarrassing poses will never see the light of day.

Epilogue -
The cupid mafia still smiles. They've each grabbed me in their camera phones. Damn!

4 comments:

Jinesh Mehta said...

Nice read :))

Rhootuja said...

I was laughing my heart out while reading this... Mairaj... i can so imagine u attending a shaadi...u rite abt the female cupid mafia...so wats the answer to "Beta Shaadi ke Baare Mein Kya Socha hai ???"

Anonymous said...

very funny :)

Mairaj said...

@Rhootuja - This is one question that does not have a definite and final answer :)