Tuesday, August 14, 2007

My Wedding - a Funny Affair

My wedding was a funny affair. It happened in a crowded hall. My bride and I sat on the raised stage under a lovely flower canopy. It was a short ceremony. Rings were put by the betrothed on each other’s right hand. A gold chain was hooked around my bride neck and a pair of thick Jasmine-Chrysanthemum garland was exchanged amid much fanfare and shouting and flash bulbs.

It was while having the prodigious feast that I started scratching my neck. By the time I had reached the middle of the feast, I had to discontinue the eating business and get on earnestly with the scratching business. My bride sitting beside me was bemused by my new- found passion. Couple of well-decked good looking teenagers sitting in the opposite row had started giggling. Now I was scratching away quite unashamedly!

It’s allergy! My uncle, who was a medical practitioner, seemed to understand the reason behind my not so acceptable behaviour. He quickly got me to a private room adjacent to the dining hall and sent the waiter with a prescription. My upper garments came off, so did my chain, glasses and watch. They agreed to keep the ring, however. My inflamed body had swollen up in places including my face and neck. My near tears bride was ushered in with assurances. One look at me and her pretty eyes nearly popped out if their sockets. I tried to smile but I don’t know quite how it looked.

It took a while to get my allergic manifestations to subside. The antihistamine administered gave me a good sleep. When I finally got up, the swellings had subsided, so had the marriage crowd. By the time my newly married wife was in jitters. We were whisked away to my ancestral home for the night. We reached there without further misfortune.

As the night approached the traditional yet so unique first night was about be staged. To accentuate the romantic air, some of my creative cousins had decorated the wedding suit with floral arrangements, mellowed down music and dimmed lights. The last one was not part of the organized scheme. It was more because of severe shortage of energy. The master bed was covered by a floral canopy and the bed was strewn by jasmine buds.

I was first led hearing some of the lewd jokes and pertinent suggestions contributed by all knowing cousins for whom the experience I was about face was long over. As for me it was a bit tormenting. You can’t possibly imagine what fear a closed door can invoke! What would she be like in our exclusive company? Would she laugh at me for the allergic manifestations earlier? Would she show some anomaly that was well covered by her glittering sari? I was absentmindedly biting my nails when she entered with the conventional glass of milk that is so much part of a Nair bride on the wedding night. I started and turned around slowly feeling very conscious. I was somewhat comforted to notice her weary look. I forgot my uneasiness and patted her shoulders as I would pet a dog. I really didn’t know what to do. Suddenly my tongue just wouldn’t move. My throat felt dry as it should according to the hurried education in these sorts of things given by Balu, one of my cousins. We looked a sight. Two clumsy individuals!

The moment passed. I found my tongue at last. I suggested we should sit on the bed. She readily complied. Earlier, I had removed every jasmine bud spread on the bed spread fearing another allergy attack. The cot creaked not so reassuringly. She extended the glass of milk looking at me out of the corner of her eyes. All shy! Hmmm, I thought. In my pretension of nonchalance, I gulped the milk down. But I choked on it, a spree of cough followed. The more I tried to subdue it, the more aggressive it became. My bride was up and looked at me with her bulging eyes. I don’t know what emotion was prevalent in her eyes at that time, but romance was the last thing there. I tried to assure her with a gesture of my hand. I got it under control eventually.

There was a long stretch of silence. Then I started laughing. My bride joined after a pause. The tension melted and we giggled like two teens. We held each other’s hand and there was an un-describable closeness at that time between us.

We talked at length. In subdued tone, still very conscious, we talked about this and that, I looking at her face she taking fleeting looks at mine. It must have gone on for some time, only when she stated to yawn I realized the need to sleep. I switched the light off and went to the bed, got under the canopy and pulled the sheet over. The swish of the fan was loud, but my heart pounded louder. Now what should I do? Should we do it now? Shouldn’t we? If I proceeded, would she think I was an impatient wild brute? If not, will I be judged an impotent? Or worse, a gay! You don’t know how extreme thoughts could be when you think alone under a loud fan and a quiet bride beside.

Finally I summoned courage and turned to her and was about to hug her when I realized she had gone to sleep. I could hear her even smooth breathing. I understood the tension she must have gone through. I longed to hold her close, but I feared it would wake her up. So I lay on my back as close to her and looked up at the patterns on the wooden ceiling faintly visible in the moonlight coming through the window. I must have lain like that for a long time before sleep angel brushed my eyes shut.


I jumped up. There was a heavy thing on my chest. After ruling out all the possibilities included an aerial attack or worse a terrorist attack, I knew the reason. One of the bed posts had given way under the weight of the copious flower decoration on top. Luckily only one side had come down. My spouse was spared. I gingerly got up, woke my wife up. She started! She was appraised of the situation in hushed tones. Having extracted a pair of cushions from the Diwan, we lay on the floor each one to one’s own thoughts. In two hours I woke up groggy. I was alone!

The worse was to come. All gave me knowing looks. My nieces in teens giggled when they saw me. Even my mom gave me a reproving look! As if I had done something wrong. I didn’t even touch my wife. Not exactly, but nothing other than touching! My wife was grinning mischievously too. She didn’t look her awkward self any longer. I was working up. My dad patted my back and gave me a look which seemed to say it happens sometimes. I gave up and smiled smugly. Who cares?
Kerala Fever

County, country! God’s own country!
One hundred percent literacy!
They make our land so filthy
They pinch us and become wealthy
We are the victims of democracy!

Fever! Fever burning bright!
Chikun! Dengue! What a blight
‘Course it’s all a terrible sight!
Fever! Fever burning bright!
Take our kids and give us fright!

Browning’s Tiger, don’t burn bright
They have lost their kin and might
Few is left to their sorry plight,
Sulking in what’s left of the jungle.
Project tiger- isn’t it a bungle?

Press is screaming yellow jello
“Yellow, yellow dirty fellow”
The paper’s leaders bellow
“Don’t be too good dirty fellow”
Mob won’t eat your marshmallow!

Did you hear of the Paper Bond Story,
Of the Patriot taking smelly bribery,
They swear: it’s a bond; we’re so sorry
They swear: return the booty, but it’s so silly
Where’s the crook that runs the lottery?

Or about the nun in query,
Her murder is a damn mystery
They say: The leaders caused the tragedy
Cops fret about her lingerie
We cry and curse our drudgery

CM goes on to proclaim
Land, we will surely reclaim
The Forest Minister says it’s lame
It’s just a bloody tall claim
It’s a shame, such a shame.

Munnar fever burning bright; we sigh
The opposition makes a hue and cry
Tata will take the hit they say, eh?
But no, they can’t touch his hair
Life is indeed so unfair

The cleaning n cleansing campaign
Gives us a terrible back pain
While they clean up the big cities
They dump up our rural crannies
With smelly stuff lying in the drain

The leader takes a javelin
And lands on gold at Lavlin
Ah! The loot? He surely didn’t
Red flag is swirling n twirlin’
We are all bleeding n dyin’

The flight in sky is burning bright
KC leader couldn’t just be right
The woman, aghast, saw no light
She felt his hand all black and white
And now he is in a slanderous fight

We farmers, in hundreds, die
Our kids in multitudes lie
Waiting in hunger and fatality
Jobs are lost also loyalty

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Back Again!

Ya, Back again. Just was lolzing in the rainrich god's own country gone to dogs! Bugs and mosquitos are malicious, so are the politicians, kids, students, teachers and every chaprasi. what's come to the most literate, most liberal kerala?

Frankly, it doesn't bother me as much as those righteous guys nostalgic about the old times. As if world will stand still. Priorities change. Money is the most important thing. So try and make the best of it if you can. hordes of money grab as much and horde it. i don't know for what.

i believe great intelligentia around are contemplating big doom for our planet in a century at the most. So what happens to the money you have the property you own. I wonder! But then you cant just contemplate and fall to inaction. may be we should horde money after all.

I remember the Abba song Money, money, money..... Nostalgic! So what?