Decoding an Indian Wedding

The title says it all. I thought of doing an entire series of blogs. Then I realised what's the point? We guys know way too much about weddings already. The plannings, the rituals, the planning rituals. Especially us North Indians, we don't care who the president of the country is but we all know "phere par to yaar sirf gharwale hee hote hain!"

So to keep it short, this is the only blog page I will continue updating. Oh also, I am getting married within a month. I will whine and rant as well as share insights and experiences (even though nobody takes my advice seriously). When I won't be busy hyperventilating, I will be spreading some weddingy cheer here, my online wedding journal.

#3 Pre-wedding photography: I can't give you money, here is your exposure

The only thing I am thankful for in life is I have so many photographer friends. Nope they are not some punters with a DSLR but real professional photographers with real skill and talent. The thing I don't have is MONEY, to pay for my pre-wedding shoot. Hence, exploit! *evil laughter fills the bathroom*. They have often complained about clients saying things to them like "we cannot give you money but we'll give you exposure". I feel you bros! 

I am still trying to grasp the concept of a pre-wedding photoshoot. Though I have recently come across some really beautiful pre-wedding shoots with a lot of energy and joy yet something doesn't seem right. One of the partners always has that 'why me?' expression. It's like 'yes baby, of course I am having fun' yet *dying of embarrassment inside*. But then again, who am I to judge? Afterall, I am just a snarky cynical social media junkie. 

So while contemplating for my pre-wedding shoot decision, these were the different stages I went through:

Photos taken before wedding 
We have been dating for a few years now, and since we have lived in the same city and hung out with each other a lot, we have a million photos together, some natural, some super-posed and mostly selfies (obviously). So pre-wedding photography?

Confusion
Does it make sense to hire someone to take some cheesy "romantic" completely awkwardly Bollywood fairytale-ish posed photos of the 2 extremely weird people that we both are? Awkward, awkward, awkward.

Is it real? 
Where did the concept of a pre-wedding photo shoot come into being? Like a lot of other "western" nuptial traditions we have quietly adopted and Indianised, is this one of them? 

Let me Google
I tried to look for its origin online but didn't really find any intel on the whys and whats of PWP. There, however, used to be published engagement pictures over a century ago for engagement announcement in local newspapers. So it is a relatively new trend. Okay.

Should I?
If it is a new trend, and will continue for a while, will we as a couple, miss out on something very important if we do not participate? Tell me AM I MISSING OUT ON ANYTHING? TELL ME!

I am still trying to make up my mind, do we want this celebrated pre-wedding candied (is the spelling right?) photo shoot. But are we ready to sell our souls to pay for it? Or we just do this:

Awkward Vearmas are Awkward

#2 Marriage vs Wedding

Couple ya Coup?

"Aap meri marriage par zaroor aana! Apni poori family ke saath aana!"

*stomach begins to churn* *brain starts to burn* *the need to smash my head suddenly rises*

Marriage: (according to Google)
the legally or formally recognized union of two people of the different or same sex as partners in a relationship (though the only accepted communion in our country is of a man and a woman).

Wedding: (Yes, Google said it, don't look at me)

a marriage ceremony, especially considered as including the associated celebrations.

These 2 words often interchangeably used, but nope THEY ARE NOT THE SAME THING! ARGHHHH!

Okay. Now the question nobody asks themselves is whether they want to get married or do they just want a wedding. Because often than not nobody seems to see beyond the flower studded car. Correctly represented by the fade to black at the end of Uncle Studio wali shaadi ki CD when the doli departs from the venue. Rest becomes a mediocre, uninteresting, nobody-gives-a-shit-about-until-you-begin-breeding history.

Weddings are all about pretty things, family reunions, more reasons to hang out with friends and a whole experience full of warm, fuzzy and mixed feelings.
Marriage is real. It is up to me and him to either make it kick ass or let it fizzle out just the way we are constantly reminded it does. Wow just the kind of pep talk I need a few weeks prior!

I am also told that there is just one wedding day where I need to look my best. But what about the rest of the thousands of days of my married life? I know I cannot look my best on each day, hell I will look my worst in them too. Trust me, it is okay!

But for some reason I cannot bring myself to buckle down under this pressure. I do not wish to turn my wedding day into a beauty pageant. Did you know that these makeup type bigwigs charge a good 30-40 thousand rupees for a day's makeup. For real! Because they airbrush gold dust on your face and later serve you diamond fritters on a platinum platter to choke on.

Oh wait we do not have any of that 40 grand left. You know why? Because we bought the most comfortable mattress and bed with it and still had enough money remaining to take a trip to Dharamsala and back. And I will get to sleep on that comfy bed each day including the night of the wedding, obviously after having washed off that gold dust from my face. Yes that is marriage!

There I have my answer:

Marriage > Wedding

#1 The wedding lehenga

Bad pictures are epic!

So there is a wedding budget and then there is a wedding lehenga budget. We are Punjabi brides, we don't wear a saree on our wedding day. HOW DARE YOU?
I was asked to keep a lac and above separately only for the wedding lehenga. Or like they say for a North Indian bride, your wedding dress can be any colour as long it is red.

"How can you not spend (waste) a meagre 50k on the wedding lehenga?"
"What kind of a girl are you if you don't shell out an outrageous amount for your wedding dress?"
"No red or maroon lehenga????? Chheeee blasphemous! How can you even live with yourself?"

There were these few remarks and then there were saleswomen who would ask me to leave their store because I hadn't chosen a RED LEHENGA for MY own wedding!

True story:
Me: "Ye sab jewellery mein to maroon stones hain, can I have some other colour?"
Saleswomen: "Arrey red ke alawa aur kya hoga? Aapka lehenga bhi to red hain na."
Me: "Nahi actually, it is pink and ..."
Saleswoman: *shuts all jewellery boxes and turns away like I never existed*
Me: Forgive me lord for I have sinned!

Small Town Girl of a Big City

And it seemed dead, for there was no woman in sight for miles... It gave me the chills, my home town was haunted now. Everywhere I saw it was men and more proud, vain men. One of them couldn't stop staring as I sipped my can of beer sitting comfortably with a cousin. I asked him to please not lech. His reply was full of unabashed glee, "Aap bura mat maano please, magar maine aaj tak kisi ladki ko sharaab peete nahi dekha." It shook me out of my senses. It not just saddened me at the grave social conditions of the so-called fast-progressing society of my town but gave me a peek into why Bareilly is only full of men, especially on the streets. That took me back to 13 years ago.

13 years ago, I had recently shifted to my hometown, my birth place, my matrabhoomi (or whatever you may call it) from Delhi. It felt sort of nice to be back to the small town life in Bareilly, UP after being all crazed up here in the capital. I remember, as a 13-year old girl, I was never conscious of what I wore or how I looked. So during one of those oh-so-regular power outages on a hot July afternoon in Bareilly, I was about to step out in my extremely comfortable "long" skirt for some fresh air. I was stopped by this distant cousin (at whose house I was staying at and who happened to have known the place better than me). I didn't understand why she asked me to change into something decent like "full jeans and no capris". I laughed at her first and told her to chill as it was extremely hot and I was comfortable in my "Delhi clothes". She responded very gravely about how dangerous it would be for me if I went out dressed like that.

Little did I know that she would be proven right within exact 2 days. A disgusting recollection and a sad demise of my childhood innocence when I found a rowdy illiterate pervert's filthy hand on my bare leg. It took me sometime to realise the horror of it all. As I was enjoying the evening breeze on a rickshaw-ride with my mom through the roads of Bareilly in my so called "Delhi shorts", some man was following us and had had his hand on my legs for a quite long time while I was not-so-blissfully ignorant about it. And I screamed! I screamed for I felt violated for life. He ran away. No one could do a thing about it. Instead people asked my mother to teach her daughter to dress "decently". And that was the end of a freedom of blissful ignorance that I had been enjoying.

Since that day I had been careful to cover my arms and legs while stepping out of the house even for groceries. As a teenager, I wanted to see the world, I was ambitious, wanted to be a part of a cool "Delhi-like" social circle. Unfortunately, that was too much to ask for in that small town. Forget drinking, going to a restaurant with your friends was looked down as something "too modern" which only spoilt girls do (I am 26 by the way and I am chronicling the years 2001- 2006). Talking to boys was a strict no-no. Even in a co-ed convent school it was frowned upon by the authorities.

Then came the senior school years, when all you are supposed to do is STUDY your ass off! So I did. Study in school, study at home, study in your sleep and also go for 4 different subject tuitions on my bicycle and later a tiny scooty. Do all this but ensure to be inside my house's periphery before 6 pm (none of it was instructed to me by my parents). It was a norm that all followed. Girls moved about on their two-wheelers scared. Scared of hordes of bikers, scooterists, even cyclists following them around the city.

GOD FORBID, if you let your hair open and be seen on the street like THAT. You'd be gawked at, like you were a piece of meat, lewd remarks branding you as a slut, and many times groped and molested (I speak of this from personal experience). I once made a mistake of wearing a sleeveless shirt with a group of 8 women from my own family. A college-going student couldn't keep his hands off and behold another groping right in front of the family as he sped away on his I-am-a-hunk-I-grope-random-girls-cos-my-dad-gifted-me-shiny-bike. I was left aghast and scarred. I made up my mind that very instant, I will not stay in this town where girls are mere objects. Where I am constantly threatened to fend for my safety and dignity. Where going to a market alone after 5 pm seemed like a wretched thought. I had made up my mind to head back to that safe place, that awesome city I had known since childhood. I came back to DELHI.

In the current state of affairs and how they've been since 7 years since I relocated to Delhi, today I ponder how was that life different from this? Yes I have had the best years, met the best people, built my career in Delhi, yet today I am reminded of those dark days of that small town. Those dirty hands trying to pinch me from every corner of "Bada Bazaar" to the same hands that I used to dodge in DTC and Blue Line buses on my daily commute here in the capital. I blamed all the eve-teasing, molestation and assaults on the size of the town. I stand corrected today. Any place is as good as its people. Misogyny, chauvinism and gender discrimination are nobody's prerogative, they are a cherished treasure everywhere now.

GROSS! *PUKES*