On things that don't change

Ten years ago, a friend's father came to pick us up from campus after the two of us were done with classes for the day. As we got into the car, he told us since we both refused to learn how to drive, we should marry guys who would be able to afford drivers to drive us around. To which I had responded, "or you know, I could get a job and pay a driver's salary myself."

Today, a friend and I went shopping, and then to her place, where she showed her husband her purchases, and explained to him exactly why she had bought she had, and why it all made perfect sense. And after he rolled his eyes and approved of everything, she turned to me to explain this is why you marry a guy who lets you buy whatever. To which I responded, "or you know, stay single and not have to justify anything at all." To which her husband grinned and nodded.

The bus ride

In Zirakpur, just outside Chandigarh, is a place called Chhatbir Zoo. Chhatbir was a frequent weekend destination for the family in my childhood during our Chandigarh days. It's really like any other zoo, except for the area where the pride of lions lives. The lions roam freely in a cordoned off sanctuary-like area, so the only way to visit that area is either in your own car, or in the cage-like bus they take tourists in. There's a hilarious (for others) story in the family which relates how I once got on the bus, and realised only after we'd entered the sanctuary that the parents had got left behind. I was reunited with my frantic parents a good half hour later, and then was allowed by the zoo officials to come on the bus ride again with them. Two-two bus rides I got. Great fun.

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I was in Nasik a few days back for my cousin's wedding. We flew in from Bombay, on the one daily flight that goes there. We got off the tiny plane at the Nasik airfield, got into a bus, and rode to get to the tiny matchbox of an airport terminal. The bus ride lasts eight minutes, and goes through a lovely, forest-y route, lined with trees.

Reminded me of the Chhatbir bus ride, is all.

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So, after a two-year long engagement, the cousin got married. Great fun, was lovely meeting the clan after ages, and only one or two "you're next" remarks, to which I very categorically responded that only clones of Aditya Kashyap or Arjun Burman will do. What was probably most amusing was the absolute bewilderment some of our Bengali relatives and friends expressed at seeing the hash of Bengali and Punjabi rituals.

"They've been standing in that one spot and dancing for the past ten minutes. Why don't they just come in?!?"

Hee.

Conversations with the extended family

I am currently in disgrace with the mother because I was a bit too vocal about my opinions at a family wedding last night. Who knew that if a ten-year-old cousin wants to take my phone and read all my messages, I'm not supposed to tell her that's an utterly rude thing to do?

The mother is always slightly tense when the clan converges. You know how in the Koffee with Karan episode Sonam Kapoor had to measure every word she was saying because her mother had made her promise not to come back with the hamper? That is how my mother feels when I am let loose in public - she is never quite sure what I will burst out saying.

My state of disgrace is worsened by the fact that these four asses in the car next to us chose to roll down their windows at a traffic signal and start passing comments at me. Apparently saying rather loudly that those asses deserve to be whipped is not lady-like and therefore not acceptable in front of the clan.

It was decided weeks ago that the mother and the aunts would wear saris - they were the mashi-shashuris tonight after all - but we cousins would all be in suits. Much relief was felt by yours truly, but when I met the aunt in the morning in the market, she again asked what I would be wearing. On being told suit:
Aunt: Wear a nice sari no? What if you meet some nice prospects there?
Me: Any nice prospects will be seeing me in suits only all his life. Might as well start out that way only no.

She was not amused. On reaching the venue however:
Uncle: I don't think we're finding you any nice prospects here.
Me (in my head): Hee. Good to know you're as much as a snob as me.
Me (out loud): I will try to live with the disappointment.

On the way back from the venue, my 11-year-old cousin decide to get us started on Antakshari. Unfortunately, her father and I chose to sing only old songs from the 70s and earlier, which meant she was utterly blank. When she finally got exasperated and commented on it, her 10-year-old brother piped up: It's okay na, Baba is anyway always old-fashioned.

What does that say about me, I wonder?

Playing Agony Aunt

I'm currently sitting at the Mumbai airport yet again, and while I should ideally use this time to work on some essays, the brain is simply not working in that direction. Since some kind of productivity would be nice, I'm going to instead try and reproduce a post that wrote itself in my head yesterday, and which sort of got reinforced in the past hour that was just spent with the best friend.

I don't think I've ever written about love and relationships on this blog, primarily because, well, there's never been anything to write about. And no, there still isn't, not really. But it's that time of year when you tend to start thinking about the last twelve months, and for various reasons, I've spent a lot of time playing Agony Aunt to friends about their relationships this year.

Two very dear friends found themselves in relationships this year; one ended soon after, one is still going strong, touch wood, although the friend concerned does keep asking me how the guy concerned can still like her despite knowing her so well. Another friend broke up with her boyfriend of two years, because he's not ready for commitment, and doesn't know when he will be.

At least three friends at last count have their parents looking very actively for a suitable match - much hilarity, outrage and heartbreak has ensued from this process; maybe someday when they're able to look back and laugh at all of it, I'll churn out another post on it. Yet another friend keeps getting in touch with his ex-girlfriend, finds more proof of the fact that she's as weird as I always told him she is, and then comes to me to vent it all out.

I have also discovered that the childhood ideal of thinking that the cutest love stories are the ones where childhood best friends fall in love is really not true. It is actually very awkward when one good friend from bachpan ke din starts having feelings which are not returned. I still think the sweetest love story I ever saw on celluloid is the one between the Bachchans in Sholay though.

But I digress.

In college, I was always the one who said marriage is not a priority, my career is. That still holds true, but the fact that I am now in my mid-twenties means my friends are a lot more vocal about trying to convince me to believe otherwise - because for them getting married and having kids always was and still is the ultimate dream. Some near spats have happened over this - I don't tell them to make their career a priority, who're they to tell me to change my dreams?

At the same time, maybe it's because of my continued singlehood (is that a word?) that a lot of my advice tends to be on the more pragmatic side. While I will rant a bit if you tell my friend "we're in a normal relationship, not a serious one" (what in the name of heaven does that even mean?!?), I will also understand where another guy is coming from when he says to my friend that he wants to finish his MBA, figure out his career, and then think about settling down - because that's where I am too. And if you tell me - like someone tried - that it's okay for him to think that way and not me, because I'm a woman, I may stab you.

I will also point out that for all their protests about me being too practical, for lack of a better word, I can pull out at least five chain mails between the gal pals where everyone has been giving advice, but when yours truly has written in, they've written back saying that is exactly what they wanted to say, and I always put it so well. True story, sachchi.

Sometimes though, being practical does take a flying leap out of the window. Like when you want to convince your friend to take a chance with the guy she's on the verge of falling in love with, no matter what the complications involved. Because you know that if they do manage to work things through, it'll be worth all of it. I once told a friend that I believe if a relationship is meant to work, it will. Not because of destiny or any of that stuff, but because I do think that if two people genuinely care about each other and want to be together, they can find a way to make it happen. I'm not saying it's easy - I've seen enough to know it rarely is. But it can happen no? I'd like to believe so at any rate.

I will end by saying this: playing Agony Aunt over Gtalk is SO much easier than in person or even on the phone. At least the other person can't see you rolling your eyes in exasperation that way. Or hear you take a deep breath to calm yourself down before reacting to their drama.

I think I'm done rambling for now. And since I was flying somewhere over Western India when this post got finished, and am now back home, I think I'll go sleep for a while.

PS: OH. In other, and sorta related, news, the parents complete 27 years of togetherness today. So yay!

PS2: Does a public shout out make up for the lack of gift? No? Dammit.

And it begins...

I've been expecting this ever since my cousin announced her engagement earlier this year. I am, after all, the next in line.

However, naive person that I am, I expected it to start with subtle hints. You know, my age being mentioned a few times, my plans being asked about, and so on and so forth.

What I did not expect was being taken aside by aunts and uncles and being told outright that "it is time". I could deal with the teasing from cousins, no sweat, and laugh off their offers to find me someone, but how on earth do you stand and continue to smile politely in front of the elder generation?

The highlight of last night, however, came when my aunt, someone I am very fond of, in her attempts to convince me that I should lose no time getting married, decided to tell me about someone she knows. Apparently, this lady put off getting married till a late age (probably late-20s - that's ancient, innit?), and some 3-year-old chit of a girl saw the bride and exclaimed, "But she doesn't look like a bride, she looks like a budhi!"

I would like to announce at this stage that there will be no children allowed at my wedding.

The other highlight of last night, of course, came from the fact that everyone who had seen me last month at another family gathering, exactly a week before this, exclaimed on how I've lost so much weight. Of course, they also commented on the stark contrast between the drained me who had come straight from a client site in a fairly ghati outfit last time, and the me who came all dressed up yesterday, but we shall not go there.

However, I would rather gain back those lost kilos than deal with completely non-subtle Bengalis again. Thank you.