I feel like a commodity. A commodity owned by a shopkeeper who is eager to get rid of it. Actually, I am being treated as an article of trade. I know I am using rather harsh words but if you are my age and a girl and above all a Malayalee girl (it’s the frigging cherry on the cake), you would feel it too.
Last weekend I attended a marriage ceremony. I mean who likes to attend marriages? They are just like funerals. No body actually gives a shit about the poor Donkey and the ugly Monkey getting hooked up with each other for life. Basically everyone is there for the food and to strike the obligation out from the list, the obligation which society forces you to fulfil. Maybe the parents are happy but then again, it could be the happiness of just fulfilling your duty as a parent and being able to stand proudly in front of the world as a complete family.
So again I feel like a commodity. You ask me why and I tell you why! My relatives from the Deep South are under a strong belief that the basic purpose of their lives is to dig out a groom for me at all the weddings I attend under societal pressure. My parents do not care and think that I have considerable time left before they should start the marathon chase for the perfect one. That means I have around 4 yrs tension free. But my relatives, some of whom I don’t even recollect being related to, are acting like brokers. This is what happens in almost all the weddings I attend in Kerala.
Fat Ammai- Mole!! Why are you wearing Shalwar Shoot?
Me- Ammai, it’s just that I got to know about the wedding two days back and why dress up so gaudy?
Fat Ammai- What is this Mole?! You are 22 and you don’t have a Sharee? A Kanjeevaram? Atleast a Kasavu? Tch tch.
Me- It’s not my marriage! And I don’t even know the couple who got married. I don’t know half the people here.
Fat Ammai- We are all one femali. Mole! Atleast you should have worn a Gold-chain.
Me- I am wearing such huge earrings!! Gold chains are so out of fashion.
Fat Ammai- Gold is Gold! You are a Malayalee. Look at your bare neck. Also look at your hair. Why no oil? Remove the specs Mole!
Me- Fine! Next marriage I will come exactly as you want Ammai. Today let it be.
Fat Ammai- Che che che! What is this?! The beautician of the bride is still here. She will bootify your face! The wedding photographer is here too. I will make him click some full size photo of yours.
Me- What? Why? Why would you do such a thing?
Fat Ammai- You are getting old Mole! It’s our duty! Also I will post a photo to your Amma! She will be so happy.
Yes, this is what happens with me! I am pissed off with my relatives! You cannot say a word against them because you too are under the shackles of Indian Courtesy and Respect. The entire wedding reception goes on with my relative holding my hand and dragging me across the Pandal introducing me to random strange families. For some alien reason she does not tell them that I am a future LAWYER. Can anyone tell me why?
P.S- Priyanka! I will be taking the tag in the next post! I just that I want it to sound Intellectual enough. Work in progress! :D
P.S.S- I have joined twitter and you should know that I don’t like to talk to myself. So join up! You can see a follow up widget right below the Parental advisory image or just click HERE.
