The Wedding - Cocktail Party

Any Indian worth his/her salt should know that traditional North Indian weddings are not complete without singing, dancing and some good old-fashioned drinking. South Indians, usually alienated from the rest of the country, have become increasingly aware of this through movies like 'Hum Apke Hai Kaun' (We, you and who else?), 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge' (The heart makes stupid decisions) and a plethora of song-athons from the Chopra and Johar schools of film-making (forgive my translations). So from the moment my parents announced my wedding to a Northie girl, my relatives started planning their visit around the hypothetical big 'dance' party.

We did not have a 'Sangeet' in the traditional sense. As I later came to know from W, there did occur a brainstorming session, within her group, for songs and skits to do if a Sangeet happened. And predictably, there were a lot of suggestions revolving around bald, dhoti-clad, thick accented South Indian men in Hindi movies a la that song in the movie 'Padosan'. And then they finally came to the conclusion that the jokes might be lost in the great South-North divide and lead to embarrassment. Personally, I would've loved to have the chance to make some good-natured fun at each others' cultures. I would've got the guys on my side to wax their body hair, wear tight-fitting pants and flowery shirts and play chikna Shah rukh or one of the roadside romeos abundant in Delhi. Oh well, no use worrying about opportunities lost.

And yes, there was a cocktail party in the agenda, complete with a DJ, dance floor and strobe lights in one of the best hotels in town. Anyone familiar with my father-in-law would've guessed that it would be accompanied by an awesome open bar. The man knows how to throw a party! There were also kabobs, paneer, vadas and a few other things I forget for appetizers. The food was kept simple with some chinese/Thai along with a spicy chaat stall.

As the evening began, it was clear that everyone had dressed to impress. The South Indian aunties were glittering in their brilliantly-colored silk saris while the North Indian aunties wore designer saris and salwars. These were occampanied by lots of gold, diamonds and pearls. Despite my dad's protests, I had forced him to wear a suit and even black socks. The young guys were all dressed smartly in suits. While W looked gorgeous in a Ritu Kumar-designed Salwar, I was aware that this was probably the only occasion in the wedding when my outfit would be more expensive than hers (I take this opportunity to repeat that I was wearing a CK suit). On the jewellery front, I would say she pretty much shut me out.

When the father-in-law looked to us young guns to inaugurate the open bar, my brother, ET, Goks and SP selflessly came to the rescue. They helped themselves to some beer, beer and rum and whiskey in that order while setting an example to the rest of the shy junta. I opened my account with some Royal Challenge, and very soon 2 big mugs were thrusted into the unsuspecting hands of my mom and dad by the Big W (father-in-law is a bit long to type). Check out the adjoining priceless photo where my family is going to the dogs! As the alcohol started flowing and the DJ started spinning his stuff, people slowly started trickling onto the dance floor. As you would've guessed, it was W's younger friends and relatives who started the proceedings while my relatives took some time to warm up. By the time I finished my round of socializing and introductions and got near the dance floor, I was shocked to see my mom holding a mug of beer and shaking it on the floor. She brought out some original moves which got high praise from all quarters. My dad was a bit shy, but once we dragged him in, he was a different man.

Standing there looking at them enjoying themselves and hobnobbing with my in-laws, I told myself once again how long my parents and I have come. From being the orthodox, ultra-conservative and tight-knit group we were known to be, my parents had opened their minds and their hearts to a completely new culture and people. I was to hear a lot of praise from them later on about my choice of bride, her family and the wedding arrangements. My mom said I had made the perfect choice. And it felt good.

Back on the floor, things were really heating up. ET, the eternal loverboy (or the boy who loves to be in love), had started flirting with my little (cousin) sister (Okay, she's not so little and definitely not innocent, but that's besides the point). I made a mental note to kill him once the party was over. The couple set the floor on fire and ET henceforth came to be known as the 'rubber man' by W's family. Goks was drinking by himself in a corner enjoying the music and getting amused at this interesting mix on the dance floor. My bro surprised me with his dance moves and he was unstoppable through the night. For someone who was perceived as shy and a goody boy, he was gyrating like nobody's business. SP was drunk very fast and refused to eat despite all our urging. My mom somehow felt this incredible bonding to him in their drunken states and made sure he was taken back to his room and tucked into his bed early. W and I were forced into the center from time to time. We would entertain such requests for a song or two and then make our way out to continue our socializing spree.

There was this funny incident involving W's elder sis (let's call her P), my chithi (aunt) and me. I should probably mention at this juncture that for unprepared observers, P appears to be a replica of W. Or should it be the other way around for the sake of chronological precision? So there were numerous occasions when people would mix them up and make fools of themselves. My chithi selected the most inopportune of moments to do exactly that. She dragged me to the dance floor and asked me to dance with P and I did so for a few minutes. When she continued to push me closer towards P, it slowly dawned on me that this was another case of mistaken identity and that she had mistook P for W. I tried pointing this out to her, but I was drowned out by the music. And then chithi went one step further and pushed me with all her might, making sure I banged into P at a speed of 30 kmph or so. And then I had to finally shout "this is my sister-in-law". Chithi had a sheeping grin while P and I laughed our asses off. Though I appreciated chithi's intentions, hitting upon my sis-in-law even before the wedding might have been looked down upon :-) Very soon, my 2.5 yr-old niece Rhea (P's daughter) joined the fray with people forming a circle around her clapping and goading her on.

It felt wonderful to party with our family and friends, especially with ET and Goks who'd planned their India trips around the wedding. Another friend from Chicago, Ram, was supposed to join us for the party but he paid the price for living in a village. His flight from Madurai got delayed (due to a 15-min shower!) and he ended up missing his Mumbai-Baroda connection. He got into town the next day after spending the night at the Mumbai Jet Air lounge, while we were all making merry. W and I were were very disappointed when he couldn't make it. Funkaboy was, being Iranian-born, was sitting tight in Chicago rather than taking the chance and getting his visa stamped. When he called us in the middle of the party, W and I were unsuccessfully trying to find a quiet place to talk to him. Onlookers might have thought we had other intentions, but I swear we did not!

Towards the end, there was a call for bride and groom to take centerstage to some mushy love song. Very soon, all the couples piled on and did their own versions of a ballroom dance. The DJ took some audience requests, and eventually and very reluctantly, closed down the music for the night. After the party wound down and most people left, a few of us were chatting into the night while helping ourselves to the last of the stock in the open bar. And then my friends and I decided to walk back to our hotels (which was just down the street) instead of being driven back.

Once in the hotel room, we piled into the 'party' room. While Goks and I were reminiscing my last day as a bachelor, chandru, SP and ET were playing a childish game of cards called 'mangaatha'. A bit more OH might have been consumed in the process. When I finally called it a night and went back and plonked on my bed, I felt the evening couldn't have gone any better. The Tamil-Sindhi divide was slowly disappearing as the families were getting comfortable with each other. I had been checked out by all of W's relatives and friends and seem to have passed the litmus test - can he dance? - reserved for south Indian dulhas. My folks had fallen in love with W and her family. There were a lot of good moments and wonderful memories.

And I was ready for the Big Day tomorrow... (to be continued)