How many of us have not done something stupid as a teenager? If you say you haven’t, I am sorry to hear that, it’s a wonderful experience to live through, it’s a shame you didn’t get that chance, your life is not as enriched as you believe it to be.
And for those of you who have, are you OK? I mean are you really OK? Have you healed yet? Is it still that memory among many that makes you cringe? Do you still experience blood curdling rage when a certain XYZ or ABC has answered to the question, “Your most embarrassing moment” as “Haven’t had one yet” in your friend’s slam book, for being the lucky few who are audience to other’s embarrassing moments but never on stage themselves.
Now, I am one of those blessed ones, who life seemed to be sending one after the other opportunity to royally embarrass myself (refer my first post). However, I have not always been alone on some of these endeavours (thank god for that, misery does love company), I have always had the loyal support of my wonderful cousin Suma on more than one occasion (in certain occasions the latter being more than a little responsible for the said events)
Flashback 1: Year 1996: A Cousin’s Engagement
Warning: The following content is PGG – (Previous Generation Guidance suggested)
Few/most of the facts in the following story have been distorted in order to add zazz to an otherwise mediocre story…still doesn’t make it any less embarrassing…
Ages ago, when a cell meant more in biology than in communication and when selfie meant shelf in colloquial North Kerala Malayalam (“rotti edey umma”, “selfeeyil noki, aadey vechini” - Pathuma style) vs grossly misrepresenting pictures of oneself, email was an urban legend, the post referred to the electric post or the local celebrity of sorts - the postman, and someone who comments was usually considered an eve teaser more likely of getting thrashes vs likes, simpletons like us used our faculties in real time vs virtually to like/dislike, appreciate, criticize and make mistakes.
There are four days in everyone’s life when one is treated like a celebrity, but only two of those are the ones you remember - your engagement and your wedding – people take out their valuable time, travel great distances in order to just see you, they come bearing presents, some feel envious towards you, you are after all the man/woman of the hour, there is so much, if I may say, unnecessary focus on you. (The other two days are obviously your birth and death and of course no one feels envious towards you in the latter i.e. most who haven’t been “man/woman of the hour” yet - ah the done to "death" marriage jokes).
This story goes back to one such eventful day, when we awaited the man of the hour, who would exchange rings with our cousin sister and who in our minds would look exactly like Aravind Swamy from Roja (he was the epitome of what a fiancé should be in most girls’ fantasies back then). Please note photos were very expensive and very few of us even knew what the knight in shining armour would look like since we had not even seen his picture. We cousins (Suma and I) had clear cut instructions, when the groom arrived we are to welcome him at the gate and bring him in and seat him and his family in the central verandah. And how do we identify the guy, he will be the man in the white shirt and dhoti, tall with a wonderful moustache, wow what a rare demographic for a Malayali indeed.
Of course as cousins in charge, we were also hoping for an equally if not more handsome younger brother or cousin ..single of course....to accompany him. Engagements and weddings for us were the dialled down versions of Karan Johar and Sooraj Barjatya movies –the sets were bad, the wardrobe was face palm worthy, however the actors were not on weed (cmn how else do you explain all the over the top acting) and the stories more realistic.
So back to my story, as we waited in anticipation for the groom to arrive, the brother of the bride calls out and says, “They just called from a phone booth (also known as STD booths - an unfortunate abbreviation) since they had some confusion, they are close by and should be here in ten minutes or so. Look out for the white ambassador, followed by a bus with the groom's party” Yes another indeed rare demographic - a Malayali in a white ambassador.
So back to my story, as we waited in anticipation for the groom to arrive, the brother of the bride calls out and says, “They just called from a phone booth (also known as STD booths - an unfortunate abbreviation) since they had some confusion, they are close by and should be here in ten minutes or so. Look out for the white ambassador, followed by a bus with the groom's party” Yes another indeed rare demographic - a Malayali in a white ambassador.
So the three of us (Suma, the brother of the bride and I) awaited eagerly for the groom at the entrance gate. Any moment now. ..
“Listen, I am just going to the back of the house to get a few more banana leaves. If they arrive meanwhile, please seat them in the central verandah,” calls out our uncle
We felt honoured to be in charge, (in retrospect don’t know why, it wasn’t as if we were asked to carry the Olympic flame).
And there as promised, right on time, we see a white ambassador approaching, followed in the distance by a bus full of people. The ambassador slows down, and an extremely handsome man in white shirt and white dhoti alights accompanied by a few middle aged men and women. They fold their hands to greet us and we reciprocate likewise. We sisters feel a tinge of envy towards our cousin sister as we see the handsome man who would soon be our cousin brother-in-law and a bit disappointed that there was no eye candy tagging along. Hopefully the bus had something to offer.
We still had a job to do, so we set aside other (DDLJ) priorities temporarily.
The groom is all smiles as he shakes his hand with the bride’s brother. The groom waves at the bus, however no one seems to have noticed and the bus passes by without stopping and so the bride’s brother claps his hands, and whistles loudly, in an attempt to catch the driver’s attention but it seems to be of no avail. The bus zooms ahead and so he gets onto his bike to chase the bus as he calls out to us “You guys please take them inside, I will be right back”
The groom looks a bit worried and confused too, perhaps unsure whether he should come in until all his relatives arrive, so I take lead, “Chetta please come inside”
We seat them in the outside verandah that has been beautifully decorated for the occasion while Suma goes inside to inform the elders.
I pour him and the entourage the welcome drinks and distribute the tasty uniappams made by my mother. As we wait for the bride to be and others, I start a conversation with the groom to break the ice, “How was your journey? I hope it wasn't too bumpy, a lot of the roads are poorly maintained towards this side of the town.”
“Yes..yes..that’s true. All that will surely change soon hopefully.” he says optimistically
“So, is the father or mother here?” he asks
“Yes, yes, they will be coming out any moment now” I reply
He then asks me with a smile, “So do you kids know all about me already?”
I said “Of course” matter of factly
“Wonderful” he responds gleefully
In reality we did not know that much, except that he worked in some bank and was MA Economics (the latter we clearly remember because our aunt had gone on and on about it like a broken record.."hes MA first class, Suja is so lucky" ).
“So which college do you go to?” asks one of the seniors
Ouch! If I had a paisa for each time that question was thrown at me. Damn these genes, why did I have to be so damn tall, I cursed.
“I am not in college; I am doing my 11th in Chinmaya” I reply in a frustrated tone
“Oh so no point talking to you then,” he says and laughs and so does his group
I am of course offended, I had half a mind to tell him that he didn’t just catapult to college, he too once was in school just like me.
“Can you please call someone from inside dear, we have a few things to say” he says
Suma, who had joined me meanwhile, feigns a cough and I turn and glance at her. We exchange shocked looks because we felt we knew where this was heading. We weren’t liking the groom and his family one bit (personal vendetta aside), for it surely seemed like they wanted to discuss dowry which was very uncommon in North Kerala and quite inopportune to bring it up right before the ceremony. (Aravind Swamy was slowly transforming into the villanous but handsome Devan)
We go inside and tell them exactly what the groom said, well almost (We may have added that the groom was rude and demanded to speak with the elders, I blame it on the adrenaline, really). Uncle gets worried, he was a retired government clerk. He surely couldn’t afford a huge dowry on top of the unavoidable expenses of this marriage. Aunty, a premature sober, is already in tears. Her sisters somehow manage to calm her down lest she transcends into KPAC Lalitha mode
The cousin sister is also upset I guess but one cannot really make out her emotions thanks to the heavy makeup that has rendered her face immobile.
“Let’s go and sit outside and speak with them, let’s hear what they have to say and we can then arrive at some kind of agreement that’s suitable to both parties” reasons the oldest sister
So the bride to be, parents of the bride and other immediate relatives walk out carrying the lamp and other paraphernalia and just as they are about to sit down, the mother of the bride exclaims loudly, “Who are you?”
Oh no, too late, KPAC Lalitha seems to have taken over, we think initially, but then the equally dramatic reactions from others conveyed that that was not the case.
Suma and I look at each other and realize the humongous mistake we had just made. This wasn’t the groom. However, all the signs were correct (we suddenly felt like those poor smugglers in Nadodikaatu).
We surely needed to save face, so we try to reason, “But aunty, chettan seemed to recognise him as the groom and so we assumed..”
“Chettan hasn’t seen the groom yet, he was away on his college tour when they came over. Good lord…besides who is this …wait….wait… I think…. I know him…” says uncle
And slowly the realization dawned upon our uncle and the rest of the family, that the man in white with the big white smile now standing with folded hands, this Aravind Swamy substitute of sorts, was none other than the party candidate for the upcoming Panchayat election.
He was obviously on a campaign run and hence the shaking of hands, the warm welcome and smile and of course their designated white and white.
And just as the all the confusion unfolded, arrived the actual groom and party with no one to greet them at the entrance.
The candidate was asked to quickly move aside while we rushed to greet the groom and seat him in the designated position in the central verandah. The former of course had put two and two together and understood what had transpired.
The ceremony was carried out perfectly in spite of the awkward hiccups, which to this day remains a secret from the groom’s family (I haven’t friended any of them on facebook for good reason). We of course caught a glimpse of the candidate staring our way, each of us giving the other an embarrassed smile while we mumbled choicest names for the other.
The bride’s brother reached just in time after chasing what was a regular route line bus and getting an earful from the bus cleaner. Points for worst observation ever. The candidate obviously wasn’t waving to stop the bus but was exhibiting the typical politician wave syndrome (wave to anything and everything that moves for brownie points)
Since it was an auspicious occasion one could not send off the unexpected guests (uninvited they may be) without asking them to partake in the feast. In spite of the events that unfolded earlier, he and his party members surely showed no qualms in enjoying the feast gluttonously.
We slowly sneaked out of the house that day to escape the angry tirade of our relatives and did not show our face again until a few weeks later.
No one really noticed the candidate and his party leaving either but we did run into him a couple of months later. We pretended not to have noticed/recognised him and quickly walked past him, but he sure did make sure to acknowledge us as he called out from afar, ““Hey! Remember me? Any more weddings or engagements in the near future? Do inform me, would love to attend the feast.”
Flashback 2: A Moooooving Story
Cast Credits - Enter: Bindhu, exit Suma
Those were the days when going to school meant a tiresome walk of fifteen minutes to the Puthiyatheru bus stop, and then hanging on for dear life in a bus that sped at rates that would put even the Fast and Furious franchise to shame. The bus conductor often reacted to anyone with a student pass akin to the typical Malayalam serial mother-in-law who hasn’t got the promised dowry. The bus also proved to be a miraculous feat of engineering because there was never a limit on the number of people it could accommodate, so many would be jammed into this aluminium box of sorts on four wheels, so much that some of us could enter the bus with creased uniforms and get out at our destination with what looked like perfectly ironed clothes, or someone with a beer belly can hope for washboard abs after a twenty-minute ride (I exaggerate of course). By the time one reached one’s destination in this roller coaster that almost tipped to one side due to the heavy load onboard (we led quite the daredevil life back then), inertia would creep in, inducing kind of a natural swag in the passenger (a mediocre albeit temporary version of Lalettan)
In the evenings, the story wasn’t any different, however, there was the happiness of going back home after a strenuous day at school (there was so much taught yet so less learnt and even lesser paid attention to in the first place) While mornings were mostly a solitary journey for me, evenings I had my good mate Bindhu for company. Our homes were close by plus she was really fun to hang out with. We were generally considered as very serious girls in our locality, because for one we had the no nonsense look (some also called it the crazy look) that we were born with, secondly we looked brave and aloof, the sorts who did not smile much or even pay attention to people much. So while we joked and gossiped all along the way from Puthiyatheru to our homes, we passed by a lot of folk some of whom we acknowledged, while some we avoided religiously for good reasons.
(kindly refrain from laughing,they may not look it but they are very deadly)
So just like any other day we were prepared, we had turned on Ignore Mode automatically, and with proud brave straight gaits we headed ahead - looking away was for the feeble, NOT US. It would have all been perfect like any other day except today we had a someone new who would not be discouraged by our steely glance or confident gait. For him all that was mooooot.
Yes, amidst the fields he stood, and let out an ominous grunt that was quite uncommon, that broke our resolve to never stare back at any sounds/yells/teases thrown in our direction. We exchange looks and it’s a brief standoff, before he rampages towards us and we throw away all faux pride and courage into abandon as we scream our lungs out, “Aiyo!!!!!” and scamper about. Luckily for us he seems to have given up quickly, scaring us was all he had in mind and we breathe relief, but too soon for we suddenly notice what seems to be a fairer cousin or sibling of sorts, running towards us and he certainly is in no moooood to let go. Once again, we drop the brave act and run screaming as if the apocalypse was upon us, we can sense him catching upon us, so we throw our bags as it was weighing us down, and run. Just as he was about to collide with us, God comes to save us in the strangest of avatars, a black and yellow incarnation whom we shall hence address as Auto Bhagwan. Yes, an autorickshaw blocks him from attacking us just in the nick of time and he seems to be scared away by this lean mean machine (c’mon we owe our lives or at least sanity to this vehicle, we might even call it James Bond so you might as well make your peace with it).
We are relieved, we even laugh at ourselves. Our happiness is short lived because there ahead upon the boundary wall are witnesses to the whole event. Like a tower of cards, our image that we meticulously built has come crashing down. Yes, two gals who had treaded the path like Xena and Wonder Woman (in spirit only, we still stuck to the brown and white Chinmaya churidars), unfazed by anything and anyone until that day when two little yearling bullocks chased us down the very same path.
We were embarrassed for sure but we were back on pretend mode, however the look through lens had experienced a jostle and a wisp of a crack would be evident henceforth. It was advantage boundary wall and us trailing.
As for the bullocks, we never saw them again and it would be years until I found closure in the form of sweet juicy BDFs
P.S: Bindhu I hope you found your closure too, if not there is no shortage of hamburgers that side of the world, we live here in beef ban times.
Stay tuned for more flashbacks in my next post………………
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