Of Weddings and Tourists

Not to worry, my consultant friend still has a job, so please do not miss him too much. Regulars at this place will know of his courtship over an IPL match and how he managed a wife for himself. Gallons of waters have gone under the bridges since then. And it would really take me a tome to finish off with his experiences, for many of which I was an equal partner.

For instance, lets start with the time when the families met for the first time. By feudal customs, the guardians from the girl’s side flew down to the puttar – de – kar. And by normal Punjabi accents, our very own Muchkundopur near Panagarh is not an easy place to find once you rent a car from Dum Dum Airport. And after one and a half days on the road, sweating pugdis and wretched dupattas – a benevolent Sardar constable could finally solve the problem, not before our very own groom had received certain texts on his mobile which persuaded him to stay locked in his Occidental lavatory, refusing to come out to meet his beloved without adequate combat protection. After the whole ordeal, the conversation as far as nuptial details were concerned, were minimalistic. My friend and his partner had oiled them enough. But soon after, matters took an eco – political turn.

Let me explain how. These were the times when the Tata small car project was being ram shacked out of Singur, the pet destination where an investment of some scale had already been made. States like Gujarat, Maharashtra and our very own Punjab were vociferously lobbying to get the project into their own, since Mr. Tata had made his displeasure about West Bengal pretty clear. Negotiators were running helter skelter to make last ditch efforts to save the project in Bengal, which was expected to create a dawn of hope as far as new institutional investment, industrialization and employment was concerned. Although I would stay away from commenting whether these were the best or the worst of times, these were the times when the marriage plans were being blueprinted. Soon though, the animosity came out in the open.

The patriarchs receive certain mention here. Dashubabu, as is my friends’ pop, is known in neighborhood circles, is am extremely well read but physically emaciated diabetic. Singh Saab on the other hand is a mobile testament of 55 years of consumption of dense lassi with four layers of malai. Having said that, despite the physical antithesis, the feudal standings in the present scenario gave them different pedestals. But whenever the Nano project featured in discussions, you could see the wrench in Dashubabu’s face and the glitter in Singh Saab’s eyes, I got you there bro! Every self respecting Bengali howsoever despicable his physique can…. Oh I am choked with emotion!!

Leaving such matters aside, the following is something which my friend has to share with you folks (in his own words an email):
“What I am saying to you has got nothing to do with wedding, but on tourism. Well no honeymoon as of now, since if I do stay outside office for too long a time, you run the risk of having your name struck out of the rolls of your employer forever. This is a tale of two cities. A couple of weeks after the frightful Mumbai shootout case, the uncles came visiting this part of the planet. The air was temperate given Mumbai climate and the battalion considered an outing would just be an apt consideration in the present form. After considering various options, the consensus decision was that why not go and visit the Taj and the Oberoi hotels and see from outside what they have become (remember these are still people from interior Bengal) whose closest brush with five star hospitality was when one of them had gone to Kolkata and right outside the Great Eastern Hotel, found his excretory urge too aggravated to resist. The rest are unwritten histories in the echelons of the lavatories of the high and the mighty. And considering the fact that I did not resist and actually went ahead with them, trustfully being the guide – pointing to places where snipers had stood taking aim or ambushed glasses and shrapnels from grenades amazes me even now.

On similar grounds I was in New York quite recently. The trip was meant for pleasure – what else do you think people do attending meetings at other people’s expenses. For matters more trivial and which included catching the tube back to my designated apartment, I often saw curious tourists taking pictures of buildings, right on Park Avenue. Now this was my third trip to the apples and during the worst weather. Never have I ever seen such tourist attention on this part of the NY. On 7th Avenue, I mustered the courage to move on to an elderly European couple to shimmer their stiff upper lips and appreciate the various angles in urban photography that the gentleman was trying to create. “Excuse me Sir, if you could please explain what you were doing?” I asked. NY as a place is visited by delegates of various states. The couple assumed me to be a lucky representative of a particularly impoverished East African nation, sent by a sponsored one year alms collection program, to beg at the United Nations for survival. Photography, hence was an alien luxury for me. So he took pains to explain – “Well son, this what is called a digital camera. Discovered in the year….”. “No sir, I think you got my question wrong. I mean, excuse my native accent, but I have seen quite a few tourists intently trying to find memoirs on Park Avenue, these days. I, being from India, saw similar sparks of lolling tourists at the sites of the 26/11 aftermath,” and I laughed vacuously at my own joke. “Well son, you are close. These are echelons of institutions which our sons swore by (he is an Kellogs grad by the way, wheres my moustache!!) and my grandsons will never know of. Ground by greed, you are standing in front of 745, 7th Avenue – headquarters of erstwhile Lehman Brothers. Have a snap of your own son and welcome to the new world”, he said.

My desktop, partitioned sports two snaps of two raucuous acts that has embellished boldly itself on the heart of modern civilization– a ravaged Taj Mahal palace hotel and a vaporized Lehman headquarters."