… in Delhi begins to really get to me and I wonder what on earth I am doing here… we get invited to a party. And I fall in love with the spirit of the people all over again. How can you resist people who have such a love for life?
We went for a reception a few days ago – A Christian girl and Punjabi guy. And one look at the wedding and you couldn’t have told that these people were from different communities. The Punjabi side is the one we’re friends with. And they threw themselves into it without one frown to take away from the wedding or to show that they were different or uncomfortable. I really admired that. It’s not easy to give of yourself so generously. Neither is it easy to be inlaws with such a difference and so much warmth.
It was a beautiful wedding and its so lovely to see the couple themselves enjoy the wedding. Mostly they’re burdened by a dozen rituals and heavy ugly jewellery, sweating it out and cursing the day they planned to elope but changed their minds. At this one, they were both smiling, moving around, mingling… having fun. Looking smart, gorgeous, and themselves.
The reception was one with a difference. Want to know why? Because… hold your breath…. it was held at a lounge bar!!! No sitting like exhibits on two big ugly red velvet chairs on a dai0s, no heavy garlands, no fake-smile-on-your-face-posing-with-each-guest pictures, no backache from touching a 300 unknown guest feet.
We got in a little late. And the party was in full swing. The bride and groom rocking with everyone, the booze flowing freely, the food mindblowing and the desserts would have put a five star buffet to shame. They kept it small and cosy and threw a blowout party. I sat in a corner with my aching knee and wished I could join the dancing but then decided to cheer myself up by people watching instead.
And as I watched, I wrote a couple of letters in my head.
Dear Aunty in the red chiffon with the gorgeous gorgeous copper thread work border.
You are classy, have a lovely smile and dance beautifully. If I were your daughter I’d have hoped to inherit some of that joie de vivre, charm and dress sense. If I were your daughter in law, I’d be intimidated and inspired! If I were your husband – I’d be damn proud.
You’re the epitome of the Punjabi aunty to me – smart, sexy, confident and aging as wonderfully as wine…
The young woman in black pants and a bum knee.
Dear old uncle in the turban,
I trembled for fear of you breaking a leg each time I saw you execute a fancy step – but if you did – heck, it’s a better way to go than me – I dont even know what is wrong with my leg yet!! I so wanted to come and give you a hug – darn the stern upbringing!
The girl with a wistful look on her face.
Dear young married couple,
You guys have waited 7 years for this. Not because anyone stopped you from getting married but because you are young, smart, sensible and gave yourselves more time than the overexcited MM and OA. You look lovely together and you fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. If I were 30 years older I’d crack my knuckles around your temples to ward off the evil spirits, so happy and at peace do you two look…
Dear sexy young mom in the skimpy dress..
my dear, dear friend, I can’t believe you shook off all the weight and are back to your gorgeous stunning self. Are you as thin as you were during college? I doubt it. Are you sizzling way more?? Yet bet!!!!! You’re voluptuous, perfectly proportioned, glowing and beautiful. And the beauty of this is that you’re the mother of a two year old and turning heads like no business. I watch your goodlooking and adoring husband bring you a variety of dessert and bend his head to tell you whats what… and in that little moment I catch a hint of something in his eyes for you, that makes me smile.
I love you sweetheart… keep rocking the thirties and motherhood
The girl who is now MM
My darling husband OA,
I watched you on the dance floor last night. Well actually I watched you execute a few twirls and I knew you were itching to get on the dance floor. But you steadfastly stood next to your lame (!!) wife and kept her company. Until I told you to go get a dance. With my hot now-a-mommy friend. And then you rushed off to hit the dance floor without a backward glance. It was so cute 🙂
But then I saw you dancing and I realised you were good, but not as good as you were in my head. You weren’t burning up the dance floor like you normally do. But I wasn’t going to tell you that. You got in a few more dances over the evening and I watched you from afar. Proud because you were still the best dancer by far. But sad that you weren’t as good as you used to be. Was it age? I couldn’t accept that. My husband doesn’t grow old. He just gets better…
And then a favourite number came on and you grabbed me and said ‘You can’t sit this out….’ I slipped off my shoes and joined you on a perilous dance floor that had seen a couple of shattered wine glasses that evening. Barefoot, I could just about keep up with the music and I forgot about my knees.
Know why? Because baby, you were back in business. And I felt awful. I’ve ruined you!!!! You save your best steps, your maximum grace and all your enthusiasm for me!!! Touching though that is, I couldn’t help but feel terrible! Here I am, bum knee and all, unable to keep up with even a two-left feet-ed-Sunny Deol/Salman Khan – and I am being feted and courted by Hrithik Roshan!!
I love watching you come into your own on the dance floor. You’re so bloody good that I preen like a proud mother. And funnily wish I had been your mother (just like Prince!) and seen where your talents lie, as a child. I wish I could offer to wave a wand and make you forget the middle class upbringing most of us have had where it was important to earn money. Knowing you, you’d have had a blast dancing with Shiamak Davar and backpacking. Never mind that we’d be wasting that razor sharp banker’s brain. I just want to see you come alive this way every single day…. Someday if I can earn enough I promise you we’ll throw this away and you shall dance to your heart’s content. You ARE a performer at heart and I can still remember the first time you hosted a show and the entire office turned to watch you in surprise!!
My favourite moment? When we wrapped up dinner and you goodnaturedly danced for us and put up a show in the empty lounge bar. Just the last few stragglers and friends of the family remaining. I have it on camera for my own eyes and these words on the blog so that I can hold myself to that promise.
Keep dancing, keep smiling… Keep bringing a smile to my face.
PS: I think we should go ahead with the plan we made last night. We drop both our unpronounceable surnames and pick a common one – Singh. Because Singh truly is King (Have you guys paid attention to the lyrics?? The lyricist just went to town on this one!! I love the lyrics). If I ever changed my surname it would be to Singh. So here’s your last and final chance to share a surname with me. Grab it quick!!!
Note to readers – Have you guys heard this song? Massakkali?(Rahman is back, man!! And could I LOVE Mohit Chauhan anymore? Mohit – can you hear me????????????? )
Yes, it’s the song that dragged me to the dance floor! Blast it, leave your PC, get up, put your hands up in the air and dance like you don’t care. I swear you’ll love it!!
Alright Gentle Whispers – is this a real post?! 😉 Phew. Demanding children.