Flowers! The walls adorned by it all around,
the stage curtained by it all around, the floor carpeted by it all around.
Decorations that were truly unmatched. The feast for the eyes was indeed
unending as guests kept pouring into the wedding function, all carrying an exquisite
aura of beauty with them. Designer sarees (sometimes too flashy), glamorous
jewellery (sometimes too heavy), modern salwars (sometimes too light) and just
the right amount of make-up (no comments). But no amount of sarcasm could steal
the ambience, for if the make-up irritated you, the magnetic rhythm of wedding
music gave you a smile, the non-stop supply of snacks made you giggle and the
splash of children all around made you laugh.
The more poetic version of myself would
have added that - the entire idea of two souls coming together to share a
life-time was in itself such a bliss. The opportunity to be part of such an
event, to soak in yourself some of that air that couldn’t be filled with more love
– that itself was equal to a hundred thousand reasons to be merry. The delicate
romance that added so much beauty to the flowers; it was enough to make the
moments I spent at the wedding worth cherishing.
However, that poetic version of Aravind,
your humble narrator, will never surface because of one atrocious, ridiculous,
cruel and merciless aspect of such functions – socializing. Every time my
parents spotted me, they would call me over to get the blessing of some grey
head whom my grand-parents held in great regard. Or to say “Hi” to some aunty
and uncle who had last seen me when I could barely walk.
Just as another bunch of draconian
possibilities passed through my head I felt a pat on my left shoulder. “Thank
God you are here already. I was wondering what I would do all alone over here.”
I turned around and saw the only reason why I didn’t say an outright “No”
whenever my parents called me to attend such functions – my first cousin and my
best friend – Pooja.
“Hello Uncle! Hi Aunty!” I greeted her
parents. “Hello Aravind! How are you, where is your father?” Pooja’s dad asked
in single sentence. I directed them to my parents and Pooja joined my to the
safe spot I had identified, a place where my parents couldn’t see me.
“Had you been
late by 2 more minutes and I would have slit your throat – “
“Sorry, sorry”,
Pooja cut me. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not much, just 5
minutes… I was starting to suffocate!”
“And what were
you planning to do?”
“I knew you would come soon”, I sat down
and pulled my cell-phone out of my jeans. “Would have listened to some songs
till then.” But that wasn’t required. Pooja had come to my rescue!
I don’t know how it happens, but my cousin
and I, without the slightest effort, can manage to weave a conversation that
can last for an entire day. Much more if you ask me, but we have never given it
a shot.
 |
“A real loss man. Almost cried when India missed
it by 3 runs yesterday”, our conversation began over lunch this way. Wait! Now
the narrator is confused, should I tell you about the conversation first or the
lunch? Obviously lunch!
Having such a heavy meal was another part
of marriages that I abhorred as a child. But 3 years of CA Articleship coupled
with bachelor life has taught me to make the best out of a meal – Especially when
it is a free meal.
The leaf was place on the table and 11
colourful dishes were served in quick succession and in bright contrast to the
green leaf. I managed to eat up the lion’s share of the side dishes even before
rice was served, so the waiters had to bring me another round of those 11 side
dishes. Sambar was poured and before I was done with it I had taken in 3
pappadams and one glass of payasam. As rasam was served, I requested for
another round of curries and one more pappadam and at one point of time I found
waiters standing guard for me for 5 whole minutes. I even recall Pooja saying
that she noticed the event manager direct his men to depute someone exclusively
for my service. I was unperturbed by any of those developments – as a matter of
fact I would be indifferent even if the CA Final results had been announced at
that very moment, as long was curd was served on demand.
“I don’t know why
that useless captain waits till the last over. Why does he want to slog it till
the end?” The sentence was followed by swears for Dhoni. Pooja gets extremely
frustrated when a match is lost, and she ensures that every single thought
inside her head is outside her mouth then and there.
“Look at that! He
loses one match and all of a sudden the nation turns against him!” I made the
more reasonable comment and my cousin concurred.
“But the point
is, nobody is a Dhoni fan. We are all fans of team India! We rejoice when India
wins. And we are upset when India loses. The people responsible for it will be
blamed, no matter whom.”
“That is a
contentious comment Pooja. I guess we do adore the players more than the team. Sachin, Yuvraj – Big names! It is them that
we love.”
“Maybe, may not
be. And I don’t care about the rest of the world”, Pooja began. “I am a girl
who cried when my history teacher explained the story of Jallianwallah Bagh. I
am a girl who jumped up in joy as I was taught about the Quit India Movement.
And I am sure you would not differ with me over here either would you? We had
resolved selfless commitment to the service of our nation in second standard;
remember?” I nodded with a smile.
“The sense of patriotism is rooted within
us too deeply. And little has changed over time as far as I am concerned. Mera
Bharat Mahan”
 |
The bride and groom were seated on a swing
and their relatives were engaged in a musical concert that timed with the
swinging couple.
“Do you remember that APJ Abdul Kalam had
said that a revolution is going to come in our country? That India will become
a developed nation by 2020?” Pooja asked. I hushed her before some of the
elders would turn around to give us a glare.
And that is how Pooja is! Absolutely unaware
of what goes on around her, what others think of her, how others perceive her.
As a matter of fact she could be the only girl who had come to the marriage
with absolutely no make-up on. No extra jewellery. The most simple dress one
could wear at a wedding. Simple yet elegant. She says whatever comes to her
mind with the least sense of regret. Once when we were in 9th grade,
the teacher said, “Get out of class if anybody is not interested!” This girl
stood up to give the teacher a 5 minute lecture about how boring the class was…
And the look of innocence on her face after the lecture was over –
Unbelievable! She simply did not understand what wrong she had committed. The
entire class was entertained by Pooja’s tirade against our teacher, but the expression
on her face at the end was truly the highlight of the century.
“Yes, I remember!”
I whispered back to her question.
“Do you think we
need a revolution?”
“Well…” I did not
pause to think. This was one question that had come to mind over a million
times. “We are not in a situation like Egypt or Syria”, I began. “We are a
developing nation, there is a lot of development in our country and we are
growing at a steady pace. We have a strong political system, stable government,
efficient military and all that.
“But India was
once the golden bird of the world. The country of peace and harmony. The nation
of riches and happiness. The state of glory! The place where poverty did not
exist, where crime did not exist, history is witness to an era where India was
utopia! And I feel…
“And I feel that a revolution must come… A
revolution will come… A revolution that will take us there!”
 |
Our conversation about a revolution went on
and on and reached the conclusion of the wedding. Few of the close relative of
the bride and groom had stood up to speak a few words about the young couple
and bless them.
“Religion
continues to split us”, I spoke and Pooja nodded. She was full of spirit and
spoke vehemently.
“You are right. It would be so much better
if everybody was one. If all the religions merged! Maybe… maybe… Like through
marriages!” She exclaimed
“I think we have heard enough speeches from
the previous generation”, the bride’s father announced from the dais. “Now why
don’t we hear what the next generation has to say about this wedding. Would any
youngster over here like to speak a few words please?”
Pooja turned around and raised her hand –
and I slapped my head as hard as I could. This could only mean trouble. “Pooja
DON’T!” I shouted, but she had already stood up and the bride’s father
announced. “Yes, Pooja! My daughter’s childhood friend, so many memories you
would have to share… Please come on stage and speak a few words.”
“I would like to wish my dear, dearest
friend Keerthana, and her loving husband Dev, a very happy, prosperous, joyful
and wonderful life ahead!” She began. I crossed my fingers and prayed that she
would end it with that.
“I have been a friend of Keerthana for such
a long time, maybe as long as I can remember. And we have been together in
every step of our life. I was right there with her even when her parents had
posted an ad in the matrimonial website!” She said with a smile and I knew that
the volcano was starting to erupt. It was all over.
“And as I looked into the website to see
her ad, I was amused! I was amused at the way the website was built and how her
ad was posted. ‘Tamil Brahmin Girl from Kerala!’ And the website allowed people
to choose a bride from their same caste and even sub-caste.
“Since school days I have been taught that
it is this worm that is destroying our society and culture. Caste and religion.
For the past 70 years it is dividing the nation again and again and again, in
various forms. The greatest impediment to a dream called ‘A United India’
“How to unite people? How to convince the
world that we are all one? One and the same! How to bring everybody together?”
She paused for a second and uttered the one word I kept praying she wouldn’t
say, “Marriages! Youngsters should come forward and be brave to marry someone
from another religion. Parents should be broad minded and try to choose an
alliance from another religion. To create a new World!”
Just as I thought it couldn’t get any
worse, “Once again I wish this couple a Happy Married Life! And I also wish
every couple to come in the future, from whichever religion, from whichever
caste – A Very Prosperous Life!” She bowed and walked from the stage. I saw the
elders seated in front turn red. Old ladies mumbled amongst themselves, and as
Pooja neared me, the buzz of gossip chat had turned intense. Pooja and I
received notorious glares from all around. Pooja’s father quickly rushed to us,
“Let’s go!” and walked away with his wife, his head bowed down, her mother’s
face covered in shame.
 |
“I have seen you
give a lot of stupid speeches in life but this was beyond all limits!?” I
shouted at her over the phone that night.
“What did I say
wrong?” Pooja asked me over a sob.
“Pooja... what
were you trying to do? Create a revolution? HOW CAN YOU BE STUPID?” The anger
in my voice reached a fever pitch. At the other end I could hear only a mumbled
sob. As if she was trying to say something but the tears gushed out and choked
her voice.
“Pooja…” I regretted
my anger. I tried to console her but she broke down. I could hear her cry
breathlessly.
“Pooja, I am
sorry… It’s ok, it’s ok, don’t worry…”
“I… I wasn’t
trying to create a revolution…” She spoke over her tears. After a pause, she
brushed away her running nose, steadied her voice and continued slowly, “Aravind…
you are wrong. This was not a revolution!”
Pausing after
each word, taking deep breathes, she spoke slowly, “Maybe I thought I could
have created a revolution. I still think I can create a revolution. The
revolution that you spoke about. But what happened today… That was not
Revolution…
“It was
Renaissance… I said what I had to… and I earned the curse of 400 people sitting
there. I can hear it, each and every person present at the marriage is cursing
me right now. But I am sure Aravind…” Pooja’s voice turned deep. The sobbing was
replaced by conviction, a very strong sense of purpose. I could feel it seep
into my body, the intensity in her voice! “I am sure, that one youngster
sitting there would have agreed to my speech! Maybe a hundred would have
laughed at me, but one of them agreed with me. I can feel it Aravind, and I
know that she will concur in action. She will marry someone outside her
religion and one day she will give a speech! And her words won’t be chided like
mine!
“Her words will
be heard by a hundred. And those hundred will inspire a thousand.
“All of us have
ideas… thoughts, imaginations, ambitions, passion, solutions, dreams… This
generation is special! And this generation has the fire. Spread the ideas,
speak out your dreams…. This generation is going to sow the seeds… Aravind –
“Renaissance is
coming…”
Love
