Renaissance is coming...

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 9^th 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