Wedding chronicles. Literally.

I typed all of this on my phone
—It’s my first time at a wedding of someone who im not related to. A neighbour’s. Didn’t know her name until I saw it on her wedding card. Didn’t know that, that bald uncle was her father until I saw him here, at the wedding. I’d lived in the same flat for over a year, and in the same building for over two years. And if I open my door, and the neighbour’s door is open, I can literally see everything that goes on in their house. But I still dunno anything about them. Except that there always seem to be hordes of guys in their house. One of whom is supposed to be my direct senior in college. The reception was supposed to start at 8. Arrived to find the groom in the middle of a photo op in the corner.”Hit” Telugu  songs playing in the background. Old and young aunties dressed in shades of gold invariably seated everywhere. Snagged a spot under the fan in the back. Spent some time ogling the groom, who, to my surprise was good-looking. Turns out HE used to live in their house too. And I don’t remember seeing him! : O
Also, they’re apparently related. The bride and the groom. He’s her uncle by relation. And yes, you CAN get married to uncles. But who the hell’d WANT to? Damn. The groom just went off. No sign of the bride yet. *15 minutes later, nothing eventful happens, except that I don’t get a single reply to the five messages that I’d sent to people saying “boooooored.. Sapp?” and spotting a wart the size of a small lemon on the back of a woman  in front of me.
*Bride and groom appear on stage*
The guy’s not good-looking. But the girl, who I actually had seen many times and never thought was exceptionally pretty, IS. Except for the noodly worm curly-haired wig she’s got on, that is.
We sat under a fan. But it’s also very close to the bajantri’s. I HATE bajantrilu. Yeah, I know they’re the wedding orchestra, play auspicious sounds.. Blah..blah..blah… But DAMN!  Did I tell you I hate them?
Goody! The reception’s underway. I hate receptions too. Something about waiting in line to go on stage to wish someone you barely know ‘a happy married life’ and then posing for the camera with a fake smile, thereby captured for eternity in the happy couple’s album, when you know and so do they that you’re not really important to them. Mum suggests we go on stage just as I’m typing this and when I pass om the offer, she doesn’t say anything much. I’m happy at first. Then I feel guilty. I’m being a bitch. Yes.
Aunt and Uncle argue about whether we ought to head towards the dinner area which is currently empty. I spot the senior neighbour guy. Ah. So, he’s not a figment of my imagination after all. I’m too stuck-up/shy to say hello. He lingers in my area along with the hordes of guys usually in my neighbour’s apartment, but I pretend as if I’m texting and stare into my phone the entire time. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge him. I just.. Can’t. It hits me all over again how socially inept I am. Especially when I realise that the neighbour in question, getting married has a brother, who, again,until today I thought was one guy who I used to see in the mornings, but it turns out that was her cousin, and her brother was the ‘hushaaaaaru* pilladu’ my mom was talking about a few days ago. My mom luuuuuuurves these husharu type people. Like, so much that I can’t even tell you how much. She wishes that I was at least a smidgen like them. A smidgen. That’s not too much to ask for, right?  Right. except that I’m not. Even though I want to. All this + the humongous crowd+the fact that I already ate some avakai** at home, resulted in my dinner being a jalebi, a gulab jamun and 4 glasses of mineral water, even though it actually looked quite yummy with fried aloo and all sorts of coloured fryums and basically fried everything.

After the ordeal that was dinner, we were heading out when another neighbour insisted that we say “bye” to the aunty (neighbour who’s getting married’s mom) And so we did. When I finally said Hi to the senior neighbour. I remember seeing HIM before. Only I’d always thought he was some 8th class kid. : / He asked me if my exams were over when I nodded and shook my head simultaneously and walked off.
=|
Thanked my phone profusely and went to sleep after being yelled at by the mother when I asked her to give me something to eat after coming home.
*Husharu means active.
** Avakai is a type of mango pickle.

Life Lessons

1) A free book worth 95 rs gives me more pleasure than something that I'd bought for 395. Call me cheap, but yes, that's true. I'm ecstatic on seeing ANY book, but the awesomeness of free books? You wouldn't know. Unless of course, you're a book lunatic like me.
2) Expectations, they suck. I'm assuming a happy person is someone who doesn't have high expectations. Remember, I said expectations, not ambition.
3) People are strange, even when you're not a stranger.
4) Life's much better when you're doing something you love. If you're not doing something you love, then learn to love the something that you're doing. This came as a sort of an epiphany to me while I was reading a blog in which the person is SO happy to be doing CS, and I've been trying to "fall in love" with the C language, and computers in general. In fact, I have about 10 tabs explaining HTML open right now. Well, they've been open for two days, but the important fact is that they're there. If nothing else, I can at least learn to design cool blog layouts!
5) All writers are basically attention-seekers in some form or the other. That even includes pseudo-writer me. Just writing that makes me feel happy. Me and "writer" in the same sentence I mean.
6) I'm not a very orderly person. The fact that I'm continuously making lists, is it an indication that I'm becoming orderly, or is that I'm incapable of making all the above points into coherent paragraphs and posts? The latter, mostly, and it's pathetic.
7) Letting go of your inhibitions, isn't necessarily a bad thing. Or as scary as I thought it would be. A tad bit embarrassing, that's all.
8) The word "Posh" can be used in so many ways. It's just so....... posh. And it's my new favourite word. No, google chrome, that is NOT 'favorite'!



That was just a dream, just a dream.


"That's it? It's over?" her friends asked the woman. She couldn't blame them for being dis-believing when she said "yes"
How could she be this blase about something that almost took over her life for months? If she admitted the truth to herself, she wasn't as unaffected as she said she was. But there's only so much you can wallow in fantasies about something that you don't really know, except for what you'd built up in your head. A lot of time does that to you. Even more time makes you realize just how stupid and pointless it is, even though you always knew in your heart it was. But one day, one fine day, it will sink in, and all or most of that hope will go away, replacing that 'maybe' with 'whatever.' You realize that it never was what it was. They never are what they are. You never are what you are.

 

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