The Great Mallu wedding happens once in a while. You call them great not because you think they are but as a sarcastic annotation to emphasize their ‘lameness’. They usually happen in the dead heat of the summer amidst confusion and chaos comparable to a sale at the local mall. The Lungi’s do help in providing great ventilation but can prove hazardous around devilish children who try to pull at them, right before somebody’s clicking a picture. Some try to be on the safer side by wearing a pant inside. As the function is underway, everybody is usually staring at each other, trying to gauge who is richer than whom, which car somebody came in, who has the hotter girl?. This staring game can be scary for somebody who is not Mallu, you’ll start wondering what’s wrong. Like when a Punjabi friend of my cousins asked me “did a crow shit in my hair or something? Why are these people trying to turn me into ash with their stares?” Random aunties come up to you and express their shock at you growing tall as if they were expecting you to shrink with time. And they always ask you “How? How did you become so tall?” . You usually shrug at their questions while thinking of imaginative answers like “Chawanprash” in your head.They don't stop there, there is an introduction-to-their-daughters part that follows which is quickly followed by an awkward silence from which you wriggle out of with brilliant excuses like " I think I need to go." The wedding in actuality, nobody really cares about, it is the food. If there is a delay, you can sense the uneasiness in the crowd , they can smell the food and there is no sign of the bride. Like hungry cats who can smell fish, waiting to pounce. For some it is too much too handle "F*** this. I need to eat." As you see some people leave for the Canteen before the wedding begins, you do nothing, but salute their honesty. When the wedding does begin, people jostle to get on to the stage get a closer look at the action, so that they can get every detail, in order to gossip about the mishaps later. You can overhear aunties already "The bride must look ugly without her make up" "Isn't the groom too short for her?" Pictures are taken from every angle possible, the bride and groom are always scared out of their wits, trembling, dehydrated and clueless. Everything ends in a crescendo of shehnais, with everybody throwing raw rice at the couple which never reaches them. Only ends up in the tall guys hair standing in front. People get off stage drenched in sweat, happy that they can finally eat their hearts out without having to pretend to care about their wedding. The feast -'Sadya' as they call it- is eaten on a banana leaf where a mountain of rice is served irrespective of your body type. You shed all your inhibitions, roll up your sleeves and dig in. Nobody speaks when they are eating, they're busy, caught up, confused with so many type of curries and sundry. Eventually, after stuffing your face as much as a sumo wrestler can, one gets up vacating the place for somebody else, who usually stares at you as if throwing a challenge that they can eat more. You drag yourself, dazed and sleepy while thinking you should not have eaten as much as you did.
By then everything starts to wind down, people disperse, bid their goodbyes until next time. Until the next 'Great Mallu Wedding.'
