The Holy Cordial Deal

Holy because it was an occasion of my cousin brother’s wedding (Though I wish that even in my wildest of dreams he never reads this; but in future, if you are reading this then

Dear Cousin Brother,
You are good and I enjoyed your wedding just because you had a D.J who played age old Punjabi songs like maniac and I dint give a damn while taking out my frustration for the whole day on the dance floor.

Except "that", following is my saga of your ordeal which I know must be a heart attack to you when you finish reading this)

Anyways, coming back to the holy shit..Errr..holy cow..I mean holy cordial deal. Ofcourse it was cordial because it is always like 'hum saath saath hai' type feeling if all my kunbaa/khandaan is getting together for ceremonies. It seriously gives me kgs of thought to analyze; when I see all of those people who preferably/willingly don’t see each other for years or for that matter do not even talk on phone for years; suddenly become pals like their beer glasses are regularly busted with "cheers" every Saturday.

Not to forget that even my Pujya Peetaji is one of them. Imagine right now, half a dozen of my relatives are sleeping in our rooms, using our loos and one chick is even wearing my pyjamas. Mind you same chick stole stuff from my heritage of earrings collection when she bumped into my room some 6-7 years back. She is hell quiet and fat now but who knows she has eyes on my almirah or N8. In case she has then

Dear Fat Chick,
Pl better be in your pants which by the way has been pulled on by me. Don’t eye on anything. You will be seriously dealt otherwise in the morning!

Coming back to the deal (see title) now. Lots of stuff from girl’s side were presented and displayed to my brother who is not so much qualified and runs his business after being kicked out of MCA and working in BPO. The bride is an MSC topper and went for my brother. I mean I know he is my brother but why lady why!

Why the hell we girls still have to make undeserving men as our God father husband who just grabs us when we are done with our career/job/study with flying colors. That also, with all the household stuff provided by our own family. I mean that jackass cant even get us basic amenities. Or rather, I should say, that our families are so under confident in us (which they always have been) that they cannot even believe in our future family. Hence they end up settling us with atleast regular household stuff (If not a good life partner!)

So that makes it a holy cordial deal.

But every fucking cloud has silver lining which it farts off while the thunder is in progress. I don't know what on earth swung today that I saw my parents dancing like never before and they were actually dancing like as no one watching.

Statutory Warning: This is not a sentimental stuff I am discussing (e.g "My angelic parents", "Awwww!! they are made for each other types"). Kindly hold on to your horses. My Dad was actually 4 patiala pegs down and Mom was happy that he finally is.

At the end of the dance, I was handling a breathless mother and my siblings a twisted ankle father.

Mind you My father still danced with giant structured "singh is kingh" community's laaj bachao sardars on plenty of songs with his twisted ankle. No wonder I used to dance for hours and hours in office club parties without even a sip of water or food in between. I have got my alcohol stamina from My father. Thanks Papa (Indeed said with teary eyes)

That was the time where I realized, that if my parents had plans to have a good time dancing and stepping on zillions of toes on dance floor this evening; why they made a fuss about attending this ceremony in the morning and made my life hell. But you know what, When my parents are happy that means; actually they are way too happy, which is why they ended up inviting half a dozen creatures to our place and made my life fucking hell this time.

I mean they would have been good at that place where i had yawns of lifetime in the morning. The place was not so crowded but was filled up with artificial smiles and forever asking "khana khaya" hosts. I mean give me a break dude, how many times shall I scream, i don't want to eat those besan ke rock solid laddu and that daant mein dard test karne wali mathi. And please I had superb daal in the morning so kindly spare me your puri bhaji horror which has ganga and jamuna of oil.

Lord! I dint even find a place to sleep and ended up being on rooftop. Thanks to GOD, it finally was breezing and rain was about to shower. 4 or 5 irritating kids were roaming here and there but nevermind. I found a sigh of relief atleast. Just when I was in middle of my most sad trance state where I bitch about my khandan to myself calmly, i spotted a sight.

It was Durgeshwari Beauty Parlour. Seriously who opens a parlour with such name, khola toh khola, 'who goes there' is the question i want to ask.

Anyways, It rained finally and that was ultimate happy part of my life since the time i came home this weekend. We were dispatched for the venue from their place and I was sitting in car. It had a car owner who was in full mood to showcase his love for radha krishna to whole city. Even in the midst of deepest khaddas on road he raised the volume of his bhajans in car and made sure he fucked ears of back seaters. Thankfully it was just a ten minutes ride and I safely reached the place with both ear intact.

Getting inside that place was another heap of boredom but My angel clicked pictures which kept time flying.

We noticed too many things
e.g
- yellow, pink and purple combo of table mats- A serious insult to colors if not human eyes
- A niece of mine who was wearing some barby frock crap and was a threat to eyes.
- Waiters who were keen to pick up used glasses rather than serving new drinks- the guy stood and stared at me till the time i dint gulp whole thandai.

Anyways, the ordeal finally got finished with same shit and same crap. This seriously has given me a shudder plenty of times whenever i thought about my wedding in presence of such people and circumstances. Watching my parents dance like teenage brats would be last thing I want to witness on my wedding day and yellow+red+purple table mats would give me a suicide attack on the sight itself.

I pledge to my branded and serene colored wardrobe that I would fight all battles to hire a wedding planner for my marriage.

In the hope and in the after effects of ordeal day. I end my frustrated heart pour here.

Phew! finally it ended.

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