Skip to main content

Wedding Bells - Part 5

It takes a wedding to understand how different family ties were even a generation ago. People tried harder to stay in touch, undertook uncomfortable and often complicated trips, making it to minor ceremonial occasions and (this is a point of personal amazement) recalled the names of distant relatives with ease. Sure, I'm guilty of generalising the above solely based on my experiences. But, ask yourself, dear reader, if your family ties haven't eroded a bit? We do this more and more, no? Adding a neat twist of lime to our "live and let live" philosophy, well on the way to being indifferent to others' lives as long as we are allowed to go through the motions of ours, unmolested. And when we cannot avoid a familial occasion, we tolerate it, externally all smiles, internally dying to get back to the drudgery of our routines. Or am I wrong?

The cousin's wedding was special because it was the first of my generation. Relatives had been forced to wait a lot longer than anticipated because a certain 34-year-old had failed to follow the matrimonial timetable, resulting in his much younger cousin winning the "Will our relatives from foreign parts attend?" sweepstakes. Let's just say that everyone who could make it, did. Walking into the wedding hall that morning was to be faced with a joyous melee of warm hugs, beaming smiles, wistful tears, minutes of weighty shared speechlessness, questions that cut to the bone and advice that was hard to argue with, unsolicited or not.

Attending family weddings as a child is a radically separate experience than being present at one as an adult. In the former case, the only responsibility I had was to stay out of trouble. In the latter, I was one of those trusted and tasked with making sure the wheels did not come off the wagon at various points. Whether it was serving food, ferrying people around, ensuring they had the right rooms or dispelling logistical nightmares, it felt like an unspoken baton was being passed... a "we've done our bit, now it's your turn" feeling... a strange absence of the comfort blanket we have that someone elder and wiser will take care of 'it'... a simultaneous gain and loss.

During the garlanding ceremony, the cousin was hoisted on one of my shoulders. When the bride had to walk under a veil at the reception, I held a corner of the cloth. When relatives became anxious about taxis to airports, I helped soothe nerves. When... look, it's a long list of micro and macro moments, so let's just say the wedding went by like a happy hurricane, one minute filled with noise and chaos, the next a Sunday evening by myself, hankering for one more conversation, meal, photo, coffee, hug, laugh, game of cards... instead of a disbelievingly awful silence that seemed to last forever.

Song for the moment: Moonrunner - Droid Bishop

Comments

Anonymous said…
There's people like you, who feel these feelings when they meet their families, and that's probably how the majority is, which includes most of the folks in my family as well. And then there's people like me, who would pay good money if the option were there, and avoid these interactions completely. It is not that I find myself uncomfortable or at a loss of pleasant conversations in these situations. In fact, it is not entirely implausible that a conversation someone may have had with me at one of these gatherings could turn out to be the high point of the event for them. Its just that I don't see even the smallest personal payoff from these interactions. These are people I clearly don't particularly care about, not any more than I care about friends-of-friends; and I have nothing in common to talk to them about. Sure, there is always the tenet of open-mindedness that tells you to be open to new interactions and experiences and you never know what little exchange can make you do a 180 on your life within seconds. But the odds of that happening are so bad, and you'd have to wade through a thousand inane, pointless, high-effort interactions before that one magical experience may play out. I for one am perfectly happy to read about this charm of a bygone era that allegedly comes to life in these little pockets of time and space where the shared happiness generated collectively makes all the effort you spend individually worthwhile, on blogs such as yours.

Maybe its just me, or maybe there is something to be said about living vicariously by choice.
G said…
Did not find any 'alleged bygone era charm' at this occasion. It was a meeting of family after decades and whatever feelings were there were contemporary, rather than nostalgic. Any more than the 3 days and the bonhomie probably wouldn't last. One can try to make an effort and extract the pleasant from these situations or pick the alternative, which is pretty usual and tedious (to me). Besides, the whole set (parts 1-5) were equal parts attempts at caricature too.

As for living vicariously by choice, you said it - it's your choice and that must be respected.

Popular posts from this blog

Let them talk

There is a school of thought that would quite likely be scandalised by the idea of intellectual discussions being held in a pub / bar. Impropriety and what have you. Folks like us (you know who you are) would counter with the notion that our intellectual pursuits occur only in pubs. That's when the cranial creases are watered... doused actually, & whatever is left of our neurons are firing on all cylinders, ablaze thanks to the tipple of choice. Mind you, I'm not advocating that this is the best way. It's just our way. Or my way, if any reader resents the liberty I've taken of assuming anything. Not to keep tottering around the proverbial mulberry bush (why mulberry, I ask), the latest discussion touched on the dichotomy(?) of loving your work. That is, working the week for the sake of the cheque & engaging in your passion during the weekend OR striving to make your passion, your talent or a synonym of your choice the porker from which your bacon is carved. Ri

Many the miles

Some time ago, I decided to cut down on the whining that seems to be a major theme on this blog. After having written a couple of short story posts and one interesting challenge, I found that more commentary on life, its machinations and assorted tomfoolery just did not interest me. For the moment, at least. That also thankfully means that I can't talk about the Indian cricket team's test saga. Anyway, in recent weeks, a new trend has taken root in that fragment of the 'gang' that lives in Pune. Instead of meeting up and hitting the tipple every now and then, we meet and they discuss trekking to various forts in and around Pune. Notice how I'm not in these councils-of-war. Although I've played sports in school and college, I've never been a fan of physical toil. All these talks conjure up are images of waking up at some ungodly hour before sunrise, scooting to some random hill / fort and huffing, puffing, slipping & scrabbling around in near darkness w

The baying of the hounds

Dear reader, The past few months have been punctuated by sound and fury on account of the renovations around the house. The incessant noise, rubble and dust have often led to frayed tempers and the standard indignant inquiries about the point of this whole exercise. But there's a long way to go, so we must persevere... with gritted teeth. Speaking of dust, the Lenovo laptop running Manjaro OS has been quietly gathering sackfuls of the stuff. Unfortunately (but understandably), my Macbook has become the default instrument of distraction, with the Lenovo coming into play whenever I miss USB ports. All sarcasm aside, the Mac is convenient to use and the apps 'just' work. I've praised the Linux ecosystem for years on this blog, so there's no question of indicting them now. But hear me out. I use a VPN service. In this gilded age of freedom and tolerance, I think everyone should opt for a reliable, paid service. It does not have to matter that the things you do on the in