Big Fat Indian Wedding!

Recently I was watching a TV program on "Big fat Indian Weddings"... It was quite an interesting program to watch. I too have had the wonderful opportunity to be a part of many and experience one for myself. And today at office I heard someone have "Maalai maatrinaal, kothai maalai maatrinal" (a famous song played during a typical South Indian, specifically Tamil weddings) as their ring tone. I thought I should share my experience and views on big fat Indian weddings…

I have always wondered why Indian weddings are called “Big fat Indian wedding”. Mind you, this thought did not cross my mind after watching the program or after the wedding party of Lakshmi Mittal’s daughter or Aish/Abhi, but much before that. My family as such is a well accomplished one and we have had at least one foreigner visiting all of the marriages that have ever happened in our family. Mine too was not an exception. And all these foreigners were flabbergasted by the event. In particular, the efficiency with which the event management is done. It is the orchestration of various parties involved in a wedding without dry runs and project management group meetings that makes this a unique accomplishment. An Indian wedding is a very valid example of our innate abilities in terms of managing crowd/people, food, financel, expectation and over all project/event management.

In a typical multi national corporate there is lot of emphasis on the above mentioned management skills. I find that all these aspects are well tested in a typical Indian wedding party than any other wedding ceremony around the globe. I used the term ‘crowd management’ because, we are talking about somewhere in the range of 1200 – 1500 and though most of the people invited to a wedding are our friends and family, in one form or the other, they all behave the same as any other mass public gathering, say, a pop music festival or carnival. So, managing the people becomes a critical issue in Indian weddings. The same applies to financial management for an Indian wedding which is probably the longest (21 years typically) and the most complex activity which is comparable to any investment banker’s effort.

Ironically we Indians in general feel that Indian managers are not as good as their foreign counterparts. I guess, our behavior of free riding, and inconsistent approach are also contributing factors towards this premise.

Setting this corporate thought aside, wedding parties are usually a fantastic gathering of people and great occasion to catch up with long lost relatives and friends. Most wedding parties bring back fond memories and anecdotes which, more often than not is common to one and all. Some interesting highlights that I can remember of…

As kids, we all have attended so many weddings. We have all graduated through the system and have participated in the weddings in various capacities.

Especially as children during primary and secondary schooling days whenever any wedding was planned or discussed about, it used to be honey to ears… Reasons for seeking leave would range from unimaginative stomach pain to a creative once in a lifetime ceremony at home or a medical emergency…I am sure we all have told our share of ‘True Lies’.

During our adolescent stages, we were not much eager to socialize and wanted to be just left alone. Our parents would force us to attend some wedding party, and suggest that we mark an attendance and push off from there, the moment we have had breakfast/lunch/dinner. After all the coercion and cajoling we used to grace the weddings with our auspicious presence… what was supposed to have been a flying visit, some times turned into fantasy flights…

Yes, I am talking about the beautiful strangers… I am sure all of us have had our share of crushes and were smitten by beauties who; we never ended up meeting ever after, and a lucky few who manage to find their life partners. Wedding parties are occasions where mingling is encouraged by all… I used to feel like James Bond with license to kill, just that I had license to flirt.

When I talked about graduating through the system, I did mean it. Drawing parallel to the convocation day, in weddings it is the day when we grow up and get to arrange the nuptials room. It is a thrilling experience to be a part of that elite team of graduates. It is an acknowledgement from elders that we have been formally inducted into the “adult” club… The reason for “” is, in India, still sex is discussed within 4 walls with lights switched off and the topic is rated “A” material… I guess the topic of sex education needs a separate discussion so that it gets the focus it deserves and I will reserve my comments for now.

Wedding parties have the other side to them too…It would be unfair to say that all the weddings have left us only with pleasant memories. There were instances with a difficult relative who cribbed and compared the size of ladoos (spherical Indian sweet) with his son/daughter’s wedding, someone insisting on a particular brand of health drink and that too at 12 in the mid-night and other such unreasonable “requests” which had consequences if not addressed. The omni-present petty fights and silly arguments always added spice to the proceedings.

The insatiable appetite to do things better in all the spheres of a wedding with just one objective of keeping the groom’s people happy all through takes it toll… I would like to take the discussion a little bit north wards and share some of my thoughts and views on the consequences of big fat Indian weddings…this might be a little heavy and might make you feel as if you are watching the second half of a typical Indian film, with all the comedy being over in the first half and drama and climax in the second half… J but still, I guess it is worth it... read on!

The most important consequence of big fat Indian wedding has been the gory episodes of female infanticide in India.

A very idealistic friend of mine has strong views against big fat Indian weddings. He says that one of the very important reasons for female infanticide in our country is because of these big fat Indian weddings. Many parents with a girl child start saving for the marriage fund the day a girl child is born. The event has turned into an overhead and concept of dowry came out as the undesirable offshoot of this otherwise fun family party. India has a 300 million strong middle class population and 700 million socially and economically weak population. The per capita income of an Indian stands at $350…and I understand that an average Indian wedding costs $10000!Check the following site and it is quite interesting...http://www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/archives/002552.html

The largesse has spawned an $11 billion wedding industry, growing at 25 percent annually and beginning to rival the US industry valued at $50 billion.

The big fat Indian wedding party music turns into a screeching cry of a female infant in some remote village government clinic or care center for abandoned female infants. The ramification of female infanticide is inconceivable… Imagine a day when there would be only men and no women in this country! It’s ticking time bomb and will create a biological imbalance…Will we probably witness our own extinction?

Though the government has come out strongly against dowry practice and has put in stringent laws and measures to curtail this practice it has taken a different avatar so to say. Today, wedding parties have become an arena of competition for grandiosity. This is like the arms race in Asia. No one is forcing India / Pakistan to ramp up on arms and aircrafts but we continue to do so. We have entered into a mutual never ending race which will continue till one of us decides to stop. Similarly, we Indians have entered into a competition of grand weddings and grander gifts. The only way to stop it is for one amongst us to stop!

Following questions race through my mind and I am sure by now, in yours too…Do we need to have such big fat weddings at all? Are we abetting a crime? Should we take a win-win approach by which we can enjoy the party and be socially responsible as well? Can we get innovative and tackle the issue by having laws which provide guidelines on wedding expenses which need to be declared and approved before a wedding ceremony, just like the one we have for election campaigns?

I had a big fat Indian wedding myself but at least I am quite happy to have realized the root cause for a more severe and fundamental problem. I am convinced that we need to ponder over this thought to come up with some action plan.

Spread the word; let us see what others have to say on this.

- Ciao

MAA – LHR – JFK

Yes, those who have done an international travel might have guessed it… These are the acronyms of 3 international airports, MADRAS – LONDON – NEW YORK.

International travels usually involve lot of transit time which probably is the best time for you to be with yourselves for;

1. You cannot call home because you would invariably have switched off your mobiles as they would not be useful the moment you board a flight.
2. International calls are quite expensive and even if you talk it would be usually for few minutes.
3. One invariably travels alone…

Our protagonist, Kittu, (who, detests travel from the bottom of his heart), albeit, alights at London. And friends, as Henry Boye, a famous author says, “The most important trip you may take in life is meeting people halfway”… This story is about a travel our protagonist makes during which he meets two people in this journey halfway, literally and metaphorically.

International travel necessarily involves an early check-in, excruciatingly thorough security check and finally a long wait before you could board the flight. Kittu is a frequent traveler especially in the MAA – JFK route… Using his expertise in buttering the check-in assistants, he has deftly managed to check-in his excess baggage with all the “podi” (powder used for cooking) and pickles. During the exercise he could not avoid coming in contact with the ubiquitous travelers in this route… a “maama” and a “maami” (typical way to address south Indian, especially a Brahmin uncle and aunty).

These maamas and maamis are a species in themselves. They are uniquely identifiable. They have a style of their own. Maama usually would be wearing a T-shirt that invariably reads some University name or some park or zoo name or some arbitrary US city name, a formal pant into which the T-shirt would be tucked into, a pair of sneakers and of course grey hair sometimes bald with a cap which is the same genre as the T-shirt and finally sporting a pair of glasses with suspenders. Maami would typically be wearing a bright Kancheepuram silk saree, dazzling 9 stone diamond studded earrings and a formal leather bag…

As I was describing a typical maama and a maami they had sought Kittu’s expertise in getting their excess baggage as well checked in...

Now that the baggage was checked in, Kittu decides to check out the book store and pick up couple of travel books… which by the way no body reads in the flight as there are more interesting things to do.

Usually there are quite a few things which keeps you ticking during these flights like, the in flight entertainment, working out the scrap food and of course drinks, the challenge of making your way to or from a window seat to the loo in mid-air and finally dealing with your neighbor for sometime up to 24hrs. So, coming back to kittu, he picks up couple of travel books and makes his way to the waiting lounge and picks the pricey seat facing the TV and settles down.

Maama and maami after a grueling security check wander into the waiting lounge and the moment they see kittu, their eyes light up. Basically they were seeing their son Srini in Kittu…

In the inimitable style, Maami starts off a conversation with Kittu;

Maami: Hi, sorry I don’t remember what you said your name was?
Kittu: Krishnaswamy – in short kittu. (No smiles and no formalities, he gets back to his book)

Maami: Oh, so can I call you kittu then?
Kittu: (Grins) Oh yes…
Maama and maami settle down and try to keep to themselves, but cannot.

Usually when south Indian parents see some kid (specifically guys, I will talk about reaction to girls in a bit…) they suddenly feel as if they are looking at a Tsunami victim and that they need to help. They want to talk to the guy, check out how he is doing offer advice and counseling as if he needed it very badly and had written SAVE on his forehead and back…

With girls, the treatment would be totally different. They would talk to only a beautiful girl who they think would be an ideal match for their son. The story is a bit different if they have a daughter though…

Anyways, coming to the main story… Maami has been successful in starting a conversation off with Kittu… They have been talking for about 20 minutes now, basically around where he is from and what his family background is… Given that everything was perfect about Kittu, Maami wanted to convey her side of the story (which Kittu was trying to avoid), the story about her son, his achievements and convince that, if not better she and her family was also equally perfect…

Maami: So, Kittu, tell me, where do you work?
Kittu: BAE – London. (BAE is, British Aeronautical pioneer and it is equivalent to working at NASA)…

Maami: Oh, so you are not working in San Francisco is it? (In a tone which suggested as if it was his failure to make it to Silicon Valley)
Kittu: (Getting a feel of what is coming) No…

Maami passes on this information to Maama who is busy reading the news paper. He acknowledges the receipt of the message with an agreeing nod.

During this time, Kittu is getting a little bit fidgety. But Maami returns…

Maami: So, Kittu, what do you do in your job.
Kittu: I am a design engineer at BAE.

Maami: Oh, so you are not in software?
Kittu: NO..

Maami: (sympathetically) Ok…
Maami: You didn’t ask us where we are headed to…

Kittu: I know maami, I helped you check-in… I know you are traveling to New York and then to New Jersey...
Maami: Oh, yeah, smart boy huh?
Kittu: (wanting to avoid further discussions) Yes…

Maami: (noticing that Kittu’s answers are in monosyllables) Hope I am not bothering you…
Kittu: No maami, it’s OK.

Just then they get the boarding call and off they go… Kittu, rushes to the queue and gets into the aircraft and finds his seat. Being a frequent traveler, he had picked an aisle seat as it was strategically significant especially during the mid-air loo sojourns. Sorts out the pillow and shawl… During these travels it is quite important as to whom your neighbor is... It could be a babe, an intelligent beautiful girl (read as life partner), a business tycoon, a senior manager from a different firm (read as - new job) or alternatively, a crying baby, a nagging nanny or sometimes the fateful maama and maami.

Now having settled down himself, as people pass by he just wishes “No not this one, thank God” and at times “yeah this one please” but only to despair. He then sights maama and maami making their way towards his seat. He had totally forgotten that they were next to him in the queue and had helped them with their check-in and our typical Indian check-in assistant had put them all together in the greater good of elders…

Kittu is in absolute despair and resigns to his fate! To add to the despair, he notices that he had left the travel books at the waiting lounge…

Ladies and Gentlemen please fasten your seat belts………………

Take off was pretty peaceful and Kittu couldn’t wait for the headsets. In the meanwhile, maami, gets started again from where she left off…

Maami: So, my dear son… where is your office you said?
Kittu: London.

Maami: Oh, yeah I remember now…

Maami: My son works in software… he is doing pretty well in US.
Kittu: Ok…

At this point of time, the conversation is turning into an interrogation… More questions on work, promotions, lifestyle …And then the million dollar question arrives…

Maami: How is the pay in London? Heard its quite costly over there…
Kittu: (notwithstanding the tormenting) Yeah it is costly but manageable.

Maami: Ok, but my son gets paid 100K $ - and they have given him house and a car. Also, food is free for him in his office…
Kittu: Oh, good…so it not bad huh?

Maami: (Totally perplexed) do you mean to say that salary is not good for my son? Is he being exploited…
Kittu: (Grabbing this opportunity to play a little game)… No, no I guess the salary is definitely good enough to survive…

Maami: (She cannot believe that there could be someone who is doing better than her son, strategically she has lost the ground) How much do you get paid then?
Kittu: (With a straight face) 450000 Pounds. Which is nearly 900000 $.

Maami: I cannot believe it… huh, I mean good for you.

(she knew, it couldn’t be true and was frustrated that a kid of her son’s age wouldn’t be interested in talking to her… she was not being rude so far, probably a bit intrusive… but it was OK)

Then the retaliation starts in the form of a lecture on how some people get paid more than what they deserve and the throw away money that youngsters have, the concept of savings and holds a moral high ground that what ever is deserving only sticks… Kittu, in the meanwhile receives his much awaited headset and leaves Maami to rant … Having lost the battle, Maami was just waiting for some point which would put her back in the high ground. At this point, drinks get served and Kittu promptly orders for a Jack Daniel’s with Coke…

Maami: Do you drink? My son doesn’t… he is a teetotaler. He is very pious and definitely much better as compared to other kids.

She puts the ball back in Kittu’s court, with a heavy blow to his character and how it is not sufficient to just earn money but to live the values as well, how kids cheat on their parents and exploit their freedom etc., She bludgeons him with the “moral value” club and Kittu is now devastated. What started off as a prank cost him quite heavily! He was certainly not happy with himself.

Maami, after dealing the brilliant blow excused herself to the restroom and to rub salt into the wound she switched places with the Maama! At this point of time good 3 hrs of haranguing had passed by and the flight was over the Arabian Sea nearing Dubai… Not able to comprehend why he did whatever he did. His comments were after all not intentional. He wanted to come good. He wanted to clarify, but he realized it was a tad late.

He was reminded of a book which he had read during one such journey, “Blue Highways” by William Least Heat Moon. An autobiography based on a soul searching 13,000 mile road trip. The author says “What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do - especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.” He did not need further hint as to what he should do next…

Kittu, notices some vacant seats 2 rows ahead and requests for a change in place so that he could stretch himself. He does not have the faintest idea that someone else could also be thinking the same…

Kittu settles down in a window seat and looks down at the beautiful expanse of desert sand, and a nanny walks by and settles down just a seat away from him at the aisle. Both share a friendly smile and exchange pleasantries. He notices the English lady’s accent was Indian then British… this was sufficient for him to start off a conversation. The old lady tells him a beautiful story of her childhood and her marriage that happened at Bangalore – Holy Trinity church. She was born and brought up in Bangalore, Cox town area and left to England in 1950 along with other settlers. Her love for India, the stories of her teenage adventures in exploring Indian villages and her bicycle ride through the mustard fields took Kittu away into a wonder land.

This was a story never heard off… it was like watching a movie “1949 a Love Story”. Kittu’s perspective about British took a “U – Turn”. His recent experiences at work place, the racism row in the Big Brother series and little acts of discrimination in his neighborhood had forged an inexcusable attitude towards the British. His initial feeling that he is interacting with a foreigner had faded. He felt as if he is talking to his own “paati” (nanny as referred in Tamil language). He fell in love with that story and his fellow passenger was now his own paati.

He changed seats and moved next to the nanny who had by then had couple of Gin and Tonic and our hero had quite a few drinks to get tizzy (usually a few drinks in mid-air would get you to a state of trance quicker than on land). Kittu got into the standard assurance act. He assured granny that he would take care of her all through the flight and would do what ever it takes to make her feel comfortable…

Just then, some food was served which Kittu hogged and before he could finish, he could hear his tummy rumbling. He started sweating profusely and was feeling really uncomfortable… He requested the nanny to switch places and asked for the aisle seat. Nanny handed him the air-sickness bag and Kittu was filling and disposing bag after bag… He crashed…Assurances were kept… Only that it was nanny who had done it.

PA system blared…Ladies and Gentlemen we are about to land at the London Heathrow International Airport. For passengers alighting at London, thanks for choosing to fly with us and others please remain seated while we board our fellow passengers from London to JFK…

This announcement woke up Kittu… He couldn’t wait to get out of the plane and head home, his sweet home…

Following day he pondered over his travel and felt it was not bad after all and that probably he had learnt more than what could have from the travel book he had left back at the waiting lounge…

No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~Lin Yutang a famous Chinese writer and inventor.

- Ciao