Prior Engagement

Every person familiar with writing will let you know, on being asked, what the desire to write feels like. Not having that desire within you need not necessarily mean that the work you produce will be faulty, it just implies that an adequate amount of satisfaction will not be generated. Today, after several months, that desire finally re-ignited itself within me. My inspiration came in the form of my family friends' daughter Radhika(name changed to maintain anonymity), and the celebration of her setting foot on the path to marriage.

It was her engagement ceremony and contrary to my thoughts prior to the function, the evening wasn't every bit of a waste as I had anticipated. I entered the ball room of a celebrated hotel in Ahmedabad to find my old friend Ankush(obviously not the same name, how many sadistic parents still give their child a name that ends in kush? Being named that would be an un'kush'ionable blow for the kid.) I mean it literally, he is an old friend, he's 27. He seemed visibly excited at watching unknown guests flock to greet his sister on what one can figure to be her last day as a singleton. Ankush doesn't believe much in the system of holy matrimony, he believes that it just serves as an encouragement for people to produce vermin, much like the
ones that had just entered the hotel. A woman with an unprovoked flashy green sari, entered the room accompanying the entire set of jewellery that her grandmother had accumulated for her over the last 63 years, with which she had adorned herself. I felt so deeply for the poor grandmother who must have definitely been turning over in her grave on learning that her irresponsible g-daughter had wasted her ornaments for such a low profile engagement. More on Ankush and his beliefs in another post.

As I walked towards the happy twosome to lie about how happy I was for them, I noticed in possession of the potential groom, an object that is dreaded by many a conscious wife, one that is generally acquired during the mid-life crisis........a paunch. I quickly darted out of the hall unnoticed and began pacing up and down the first floor corridor, tugging at strands of my hair, praying to find an answer to the horror that I just witnessed. The groom.....had a protruding belly.......before marriage. I felt the floor slipping away from below me as I struggled to get the image of this lethal dose of reality out of my mind. I was always living under the fallacy that a man was supposed to be fit at the time of marriage, and after years of living a life of comfort along with his woman was he possibly permitted to entertain any thoughts of exhibiting his version of male pregnancy. And Radhika was...smiling. This was all so wrong. Was she pitted against such unfavourable circumstances that she had to bow down and accept her fate, and furthermore even be forced to grin about it? Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying fat men shouldn't be allowed to get married. My healthy brothers have every right to indulge in marriage, but only along with a woman who has the same amount of obesity to offer. Unable to make sense of the ongoing merriment, I took a seat at the back of the hall.

When enough of the illogical proceedings were over for the maítre d' to call out,"Dinner Is Served", I walked up to the buffet and loaded my plate with a sufficient quantity of a mixed vegetable curry & dal makhani, along with two naans, and then went back. What happened next made my heart immediately reach out to the millions of animals who find themselves in front of iron bar grills, innocent victims of human bred voyeurism, and in whose lives there exists no entity as privacy. I was about to take a bite, when I found the hair at the back of neck stand erect. I knew at once that there was a camera nearby. Sure enough, I looked up to find myself to be the subject of focus of a Canon video camera. The cameraman seemed to believe that my dining would be great material worth filming. It was only after five long seconds of glaring at him that he responded by tilting the camera lens a few degrees to his left. You know, one keeps wondering as to what drives villains in movies to such extreme limits, where they ensure that the object of their irritation is both, out of the country/world and/or unable to provide for himself or his family. This villainous behaviour justified itself for me at once. I wish at that moment, that I were an Arab Sheikh or an ordinary citizen of the U.S., so that I could file a lawsuit against the damn cameraman for invasion of privacy, an issue not taken lightly by the U.S. judicial machinery. It's not like I model my attitude towards cameras on the basis of Prince Harry, whose major expense is reimbursing the scores of paparazzi, whose cameras have been smashed by him on numerous occasions. Pictures capture moments and make memories. I too, like having pictures taken....just not while eating.

"Look within yourself and you will see that I speak the truth"