You know the ticking clock is inching towards you to open a new chapter in your life. The prelims have begun; the subdued mental conditioning to get use to such hullabaloo is at its peak. What do you do? You cannot run away neither act cool and say, keep me out of it. The excuses have dried up as you have seen more than enough seasons in your 24 years of existence and people around you assume you are well equipped to deal the storm of any sort. Attending occasions and getting introduced to old uncle and aunties who are desperately trying to establish their existence in the family tree is a must experience. You have been called (left, right & centre), introduced and offered a peculiar guilty smile - a way to tell you, welcome to the family get together and better know everyone here. You are left with no options but to spend some deliberate quality time with few unknown members of the family tree and laugh on the jokes carried on for generation. The glares indicate that you are not going anywhere my beloved distant cousin, come be a part of the family jokes. Well, I decided I need not move my butt from there and catch up with the long lost humour tradition. The session came to an absurd end with some uncles and aunties hitting a rare disciplinarian chord to stop the internal family carnage executed through words. In short I was spared. My observations of a wedding at 24 didn’t stop here, my parents played a pivotal part in making the remaining half an exciting watch of emotions. I was once again thrown into an introduction spree of some oldies as if my parents knew the next wedding mahurat is long lost in future and to be a bit on a meaner side, my parents may knew this may be the last chance to get hold of some oldies. Well, I need to be good too – I enjoyed meeting some long lost faces vividly sketched out in my distant memories that came out in flesh and blood.
It’s that time of the evening when your nostrils dance with excitement and search for the very direction. FOOD people - its salivating time. The food in such occasions are always good – atleast for me. The so called guests were so obviously mannered that they didn’t care of the purpose of the occasion and hogged on to the currency less delicacy. In no time, the bride and the groom were left to wonder, what the purpose of them being well dressed is and sitting there like a celebrity? The food was the centre of all attention, the awe and the control of salivation took the atmosphere into a different level. Yes, I am 24 and I observed it. I was one among them who can’t wait to get my hands on to some currency less food. As everyone settled down to gulp in some taste budding morsels, I couldn’t see a single face facing upwards to see how the one day celebrities were. Even a Kasab attending such an occasion would have left feeling ignored about no one interesting in his shooting skills. Some burps and some adjusting their tugins, they were all set for the final stage of the event. The mood was set for some high intensity drama, the tears were set, parents were on their marks, the huge bag packing of the girl too played a subtle role to enhance the scene – sounds so insensitive but you look at it the way when you are exposed to the reel life Bidaai’s before the real life ones. And it’s out, the tears have been launched, the memories have gone back to the diaper age and slowly but surely trying to connect with where they are. The groom looks on and awaits the official handover. The stomach filled guests wait there for the last straw of the event and it is their duty to be there as the currency less dinner needs to be repaid in an emotional way.
There I was eyeing each and everyone but found none to get into the same position some years down the line. The tried and tested introductory spree came of no use as the family tree is still not clear in my mind. It was a long yet eventful evening with the one day celebrities set out to start a new life and the remains wait for the next opportunity to bless and hog onto some currency less delicacy.
God Bless,
Harshad the Salian
