The tune of a rather overused and malapropos Yo Yo Honey
Singh song floats over the already dusty air, now impregnated with smoke, and
set somewhat alight by the gleam of the tube-lights carried by labourers of the
tent company. Revellers set the tone for the evening, dancing away without
inhibition, till they have had enough whiskey to render themselves incapable of
motion, vomiting their way into the ceremony. The band hired for the procession
is pathetic, but that is not a problem as long as it keeps churning out one
number after another to go with the alcohol. And plays it loud enough to make
sure the entire town gets out on their balconies to witness the pandemonium. Or
at least manages to draw the people up to their windows, like monkeys staring
at some overzealous visitor at a zoo. Traffic is in complete chaos, with people
honking their heads off, with little or no effect. In the midst of all such
associated melodrama, with the band in front and the generator precariously
perched atop a trolley behind him, sits the subdued groom on a ghodi, like a
lamb being prepared for slaughter.
Welcome to the great Indian Wedding Tamasha, where no one gives a damn about the nuptials. Where people are more concerned about being regaled after the ceremony than the ceremony itself. Where women gather laden with layers of make-up mostly with the sole purpose of showing off their newly acquired jewellery and other related accessories. With necklaces covering them up to their bosoms, themselves barely visible under the sheer weight of all that gold, and the accompanying sari. And rending the air heavy with shrill condescending cries at being successful in one such attempt at showing off, with little or no realisation of the fact that it is the fat, and not the gold, that makes them conspicuous.
Where children find themselves completely out of place, running about in the crowd to keep themselves occupied. Or being forced to kowtow to some distant relative whom they had never seen before, only to be smothered with kisses or tight hugs afterwards. And no, men don’t keep their basic instincts aside even for this special occasion, ogling at the ladies with the various layers of make-up, fully aware that someone else is staring at their own wives. Men don’t seem to mind that, instead foster such symbiosis for the mutual benefit of both.
The ceremony itself seems secondary, as if it were subsidiary to more important events like showing off, and dinner. The groom, invisible under that flora attached to his headgear, and the bride, barely so under all that gold and pallu, are hitched to each other. The pundit rants away the hymns dispassionately, like an IT guy doing his job – only for the money. And the free dinner, of course.
And no, none of the in-family antaksharis, to-be sisters-in-law running off with the groom’s footwear, and other such related activities, as depicted in ‘Vivaah’ or ‘Hum aapke hain kaun’, take place during an Indian wedding anymore. Or any of the other ceremonial formalities. After all, alcohol and food is all that matters. The first call for dinner, and everyone assembled, irrespective of age, or the amount of gold laden on them, rush towards the dining area, like victims of a disaster grappling with each other for their share of the relief. Men, women; the elderly, the young, or the children; everybody displays the same primordial barbarism.
And once the battle is won, people come out of the battlefield, bloodied with the chutney, but still wearing a smile and carrying the tray. The tray is almost impossible to see, with all that lies on it. As if all the food is somehow miraculously floating atop the palm of the victor.
Blessings for the couple give way for criticism of the food: how pathetic the food was, how they barely managed to eat anything, even when they are ready to burst as an after effect of that gluttony. And people start sizing up each other, and their financial status, depending on the size of their respective gifts. Gossip mongering ensues. How the groom looked like a buffoon. Or how the bride was not up to the groom’s family’s stature. How the dowry was ever so little. How the function was all a mess, and not worth attending- even when all they did throughout the ceremony was eat, drink, ogle or show off.
Wedding ceremonies no longer concern themselves with rituals and benediction anymore. It is how much you have spent on the function, and how much others have spent in order to come to the function, that matters.
