The Great Indian Tamasha - 1

If you are into bollywood movies then you obviously know about Hum Aapke Hain Kawn. My sis dragged me to watch that one. All my whining and protest were drowned out in the 14 or so songs looking for "The One" for Ms Dixit (NO NOT KEANU REEVES).

It is only fair that I cringe at the thought of attending any other event, reel or real life that makes me relive that traumatic experience (I'm scarred for life, nd it is my sis's fault). This weekend all my fears came back with a vengance!! That too in 3-d. This two part post will try to get you to sympathise with me and convince you not to invite me to the "happiest" (ha ha) day of your life.

Background: I'm a Bangalorean with the unfortunate coincidence of supposedly being a
Delhite. My cousin got married this weekend. I was pulled out of the self imposed premature retirement from my international career of attending social gatherings. CHALO DELHI!

The journey: Delhi was waiting for it's revenge, for the fact that I have been enjoying the great wheather of B'lore and hate cold. Any way after the mandatory delay the flight got us (me and dad) to New Delhi. Outside temp 12 Deg C. Got to the my aunt's place and colapsed on the bed....This was 2 a.m. Got up....did some things that were LONG overdue, got back home. Asked around...so what plans for the evening. The dreaded reply...LADIES SANGEET. NOOOOOOOOO

The EVENT:
Well if you are not familiar with this, lucky you. It involves the following.
Everybody is on the floor gathered around the floor ready to flex their vocal chords. One of your aunts on the floor with the "Dholak" The beat is the same as any Himesh Reshamiya song well remixed or not. Another aunt, sitting with her with a spoon (yup, a spoon), ready to pound the wood of the dholak to smithereens. Rest of the ladies (and hence the name) sit aroun clapping for the lack of any better thing to do, or the lack of instruments or both....not sure not to keen to find out either. The bride to be sitting on a chair somewhere in this mele, almost handicapped as her hands and leds are painted with some wierd orange pattern (coz of the Henna or mehndi).

So the guys, with ourImmaculate taste in music start to slowly slide towards the door can't stand up or you might be asked to move the mattress, get water or dance(HELL NO). As you escape the reign of terror, you reach the place where all the Men are sitting. Please note, there is a difference between Men and Guys...Men have given up any hope of escaping. Yes they are married. They get more exercise on this night because of some inexplicable reason, all kids start running around as soon as their Moms start "singing". The fathers wondering if when does the warranty for these things expire so that they can take em apart.

After about a couple of hours of pounding the dholak and trying to sync with the tape recorder (the guy on the tape doesn't know the lyrics you see) the end is near. The men have served their purpose by then finished as much food as possible, and fed the kids. Now feeding the women, well no comments. Everybody congratulates the host for the lovely food, arrangements, wheather, lights, air, life etc.

The journey back is great. Figure out the logistics of getting the people to fit in the vehicles that are available. And you wonder how the hell did they fit when they got here?? Well the thing is after 2 Hrs of singing all the ladies have an alterego that can(debateable) sing...so the number of people has doubled. However, how do you pry two women away who are discussing topics of national importance. Which saree should she wear, and what is the bride, her sister and their 4th cousin are gonna wear!!!

Then, the reviews start...the dholak was not tuned, the food was bad, the light wasn't enough, the water was too watery, the night was too dark. Now that most of the guys are deaf. The men have lost their power to hear anyhow, they are just the designated drivers.

Get home at 12ish. Go to sleep. live to fight another day....well the war has just started.