Power trip

Finally, I witnessed my first 100% South Indian wedding. (Actually, my own wedding would have been one too, except for one little factor that didn't meet the specifications -- the bride.)

Every now and then, I'd be overcome with amazement that I was at the wedding of someone whom I met through my blog! I liked this conversation between Pizzadude and Urv (fellow blogger-attendees at the wedding):

Urv - "How crazy is it on a scale of 1 to 10 to attend someone's wedding whom you have just met?"
Pizzadude - "19."

Of course, trying to explain to Shub's and Sumanth's surprised relatives how exactly I know the bride and groom without bringing in the blogs was a bit tricky, but most of the time, we got out of it by saying, "We're their friends from Singapore."

The wedding also proved to be a bloggers' meet of sorts, as I finally met Urv and Ved (technically not a blogger yet, but that will soon change -- *pauses to muahahaha* -- as Pizzadude and I have already started the brainwash process). Wait and watch.

Poor Urv and Ved. Where there are two Gujjus, will the Gujju jokes be behind? Viv and Sumanth were making plans for go-karting at this place called Patel's Inn. Urv had also expressed interest and so when he called to confirm he was joining, all of us yelled out at the same time, "Gujju discount!" Sheesh. Oh, by the way, Pizzadude and I have decided to do the 'G-U-J-J-U' dance from Kal Ho Na Ho at the next Gujju wedding we attend.

The wedding was great fun, especially for me, because I was considered as being from the groom's side (*ducks to avoid bridal chappal thrown by Shub*) and so got to partake in many of the ceremonies such as dousing him in turmeric, pouring rice over his hair and other such fun stuff. Fun for me, not him, of course. It is also noteworthy that Pizzadude, Viv and I woke up at 5 am, even before the bride and the groom did, just so we could be sure not to miss even the slightest detail of the early-morning wedding.

On the wedding day, I was feeling like the odd one out in my chiffon sari, surrounded by all the Kanjeevaram ones. I instantly felt better when my friend V looked at me and said, "If you were single, some 5-6 mamis would have surrounded you, asking you for your horoscope!" Heh heh!

I know I am digressing but speaking of the mamis, I got the pottu (bindi) lecture from one of them the other day. The pottu lecture is a lecture given to every non-pottu-wearing girl at some point in time or the other. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for pottus. But I only wear them with a sari or a salwar kameez. On this rather fateful day, I was in jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt had some text -- I’m not quite sure what as I had bought the T-shirt because I liked the colour -- but I’m sure it must have been something T-shirty (read rude). Point being – that’s the last outfit you would want to wear a pottu with. But as soon as this mami found out I had married a south Indian, out came the pottu lecture and how I should always wear a pottu no matter what clothes I’m wearing. So I smiled and nodded as I always do whenever I get the pottu lecture. Insincere, yes, but better than saying “Are you kidding me??” isn’t it?

Anyway, going back to the wedding, Viv and Pizzadude had decided to turn up in veshtis for the wedding. Pizzadude was so comfortable it seemed like he was born in one, earning himself the nickname 'Veshti-man' (We actually sang the theme song about the friendly neighbourhood Veshti-man whose veshti doubles up as his cape). Viv, however, had a tough time managing his, which almost fell off four times. So much for his proud "Of-course-I-don't-need-a-belt-I-can-handle-this."

During one of the ceremonies, the aunties had to nazar utaaro the bride and groom with laddoos and then gently toss the laddoos, one each in the four directions. Some aunties got a bit too excited and started hurling them like cricket balls. One of them went and hit a guy on the nose, while the other crossed the wall and landed on the road, prompting everyone to raise both hands and yell "Sixer!" How we laughed!

No marriage is complete without food. I do not even know how to begin talking about the food. Let''s just say I have never had so many banana leaf meals in my entire life as I had during the wedding. While I was almost dying of shock looking at the quantities, Viv was slurping away. In fact, he was the cook's clear favourite. Everyone kept telling him that he was the only one doing justice to the food, which prompted him to crack this food court joke.

Q - What do you do in a food court?
A - Justice to food.

As he wiped off the third helping of rice and rasam within seconds, somebody made a cricket joke, "Power play, eh, Viv?" Next thing I know, the guy serving me (obviously a cricket fan too) is grinning at everyone, pointing at me and saying, "But Madam here has declared." Sheesh.

At times, I felt like the guys who were serving the food were invisible! You don't even see them coming and suddenly you find yourself facing a rather large model of Mount Everest, made entirely of rice. Viv's very crucial advice to me was, "Watch your banana leaf, or it will auto-refresh." Very true. These guys just don't take no for an answer. In fact, there was this time, the offended cook himself marched all the way to my seat to teach me a thing or two, because I had refused the seventeenth helping of rasam.

If you are faced with one of these banana leaf serving guys, only the secret password can come to your rescue. One word. In fact, the only Kannada word I learnt in this trip. The life-saving "solpa" ("a little").

The wedding also had babies galore whom we subjected to our weird facial expressions in an attempt to make them laugh, but more often than not, reducing them to tears. Sumanth's 5-month-old niece, however, was quite receptive towards me and would often smile when she saw me. Of course, there were times she'd burst out crying, but it looked like she wasn't quite sure why exactly she had started crying in the first place. However, being a baby of principle, she'd ensure she finished what she'd started and conclude the crying in proper fashion.

Shub's elder niece of about three was initially shy, but after I put henna on her hands, she got all chatty and even declared that she liked me the most. I was instantly warned not to relate the incident to Vidya, one of Shub's best friends, upon whom the kid had bestowed the same title earlier. Oh by the way, Vidya reads this blog and I believe she is now fuming at the big fat thenga I am showing her. Muahahaha!

Then there was Shub's younger niece who had the most amazing hair-o-dynamics I have ever seen on a 6-month-old! And last, but not the least was another cousin of Sumanth's, also of about the same age, but with the amazing ability to drink from a steel tumbler. The baby finished two tumblerfuls of coconut water, and did not even pause to breathe or burp even once as she gulped them down. You had to see it to believe it!

Throughout the wedding, we came up with corny nicknames for the bride and groom. S2 (for obvious reasons), D2 (Dulha-Dulhan), P2 (Pati-Patni), and my favourite - husbandu and oifu! :D

Sumanth was such an awesomely DIY dulha. He was on his toes the entire time and yet, made time for us and drove us around, still maintaining his characteristic sense of humour, which is actually quite uncharacteristic of Indian weddings. Great guy. (Shub, you are also OK.)

Speaking of driving around, holy shit, Bangalore is all dug up for the metro, eh? As Viv says, the theme song for Bangalore should be 'Khudaya khair' from Billu. The traffic is more insane than what I remember from my trip there last year. But the drives were made so much more fun by Indian radio! Corny as it may be, I totally love the Ulfat 'Seekho mere saathu, Englis ki do baatu' Sultan chap, as he tries to teach the difference between 'motion' and 'emotion', 'shy' and 'cry' and 'propose' and 'dispose'.

Over the radio, we also managed to catch this uberly hilarious Kannada song. I don't know the lyrics, but it went something like:

"Australia, Nigeria, Cambodia,
Columbia, Malaysia, Namibia,
India Mandya India."

The guy just continued churning out country names ending with 'ia' with every stanza of the song, till I felt he was going to run out of countries and start singing "Malaria, Diphtheria, Diarrhoea!"

As if all the food we had at the wedding wasn't enough, we went on a food trip around Bangalore under the able guidance of the biggest foodie I know - Pizzadude. Of course, the highlight was Food Street, a quaint galli located in V. V. Puram, with stalls selling everything from masala Thums Up to masala dosa. We started off at the dosa stall, where the dosa-maker was holding a packet of ghee over the dosas. The packet had a tiny slit, and he was squirting ghee over the dosas like nobody's business. The dosas were so yummy we couldn't care less. We also had pani puri, pav bhaji, some sweet yellow pancake thingy (which I just learnt from Pizzadude's blog is called holige), and my favourite gobi manchurian! Yummy!

We didn't have too much time as we also had to visit Viv's cousin that evening (he has three sets of relatives in Bangalore) otherwise I'd have gone for another round of pani puri. Like I say, "Pani puri ke liye jagah pet mein nahin, dil mein hona mangta hai!" Till the day I left Bangalore, I had pani puri every single day. To the point that I shamelessly had pani puri on two consecutive days at a stall right outside the wedding mandap, in my heavy sari and lehenga respectively! I even had a rating system for the various locations where I had it, and Gullu's came tops. Of course, I deducted 1 point because Gullu junior dared to shoot the offensive "Medium?" question at me when asking me how spicy I wanted my pani puris. Medium meri jooti!

I had also been looking forward to McDonald's. Who looks forward to McDonald's, you ask. Well, when they have something as awesome as the paneer salsa wrap, there is not much you can do but give in. I also OD'ed quite a bit on... Maaza hi Maaza! Shaam sawere hun Maaza hi Maaaaazaaaaaaa! :D

Ooh, I almost forgot the shopping. When we got back to Shub's place after our shopping, and Shub asked, "So how was it?" Viv answered, "Let's just say Commercial Street has relocated to the boot of the car." True true.

We also went DVD shopping to Landmark, and at the sight of the thousands of Bollywood DVDs in front of me, I went quite nuts. We actually looked through every single DVD they had before picking out 13. In fact, I think they suspected something fishy was happening in the DVD section over their security cameras and actually sent a guard over to watch us. Sheesh.

After the wedding, we made a short trip to Puttur (took an overnight train, and talked into the wee hours of the morning), where we got to see plantations of araca nuts, vanilla and cocoa, and also cow farms. I actually touched the forehead of a cow! The last and only time I had touched a cow was when I was about 6 years old and was visiting my Dad’s ancestral home in his village. I had gone on a brave venture to attempt to milk a cow, who had almost whip-lashed me into oblivion with her offended tail. The cows at Puttur, however, seemed more respectful towards curious visitors like us.

We visited three of Sumanth’s relatives who fed us and fed us and fed us until they could feed us no more. We started off with mango juice made from mangoes grown in the backyard, followed by idlis that were twice the size of normal idlis, then mango payasam, then bananas, then a full banana leaf lunch. I believe that at some point in time, there were jalebis, pies and pineapple juice too, but my mind had blanked out by then so I don’t quite remember where we had them. And after all of that, we went to this ice-cream place because Sumanth insisted we had to try this sundae called ‘gadbad’. Gadbad was truly worth it, even though the next day my stomach experienced an emotion of the same name.

The trip was full of insane levels of travelling. We pretty much covered all modes of travel - plane, train, bus, car, cab, scooter and autorickshaw. Speaking of scooters, I was so amused at how offended Pizzadude got when I called his Activa a scooter.

Pizzadude (very offended) - "It's not a scooter. It's an Activa."
Me - "But Activa is a scooter, no?"
Pizzadude - No, it's not a scooter! It's an Activa.
Me - Then what is a scooter?
Pizzadude - Scooter is like... Bajaj!
Me - And Activa is not a scooter?
Pizzadude - No.
Ok this could have gone on forever.
Me - Erm... okay, do you have to tilt it when it doesn't start?
Pizzadude - NO!
Me - Ok then, that's settled. It's not a scooter.
Pizzadude - *big grin*

Shub also took me on a ride around her place on her scoo... I mean Activa. And then she actually let me ride it for a while! Under Viv's supervision, of course. Sheesh. The closest thing to an Activa I'd ridden was a jet ski in Bintan so at first I thought the brake was the accelerator as in the jet ski. If you have been on a jet ski, you'll know what I mean. No wonder I kept wondering why the scoo... Activa kept stopping when I wanted it to go faster! :P

All right, back to Puttur. After about half a day at Puttur, we set off for Mangalore where I finally tasted the famous Mangalore fish curry (yes, we ate. Again.) Finally, to the newlyweds’ relief, Pizzadude, Viv and I left them alone and made our way back to Singapore. We have been depressed since.

The warmth and hospitality you see in India is one of its kind. And it’s uniform across the country. Both the bride's and groom's parents behaved exactly like my parents do -- take in their children's friends as their own children. Incredibly heart-warming. We spent some 9 nights in India and almost every night, we found ourselves in a different house. And everywhere, we were greeted with the same warm and welcoming smiles.

The trip was all about greeting, meeting and eating. I resisted the urge to switch on my phone and also put a restraining order on myself when it came to computers.

I had no connectivity. But I didn't give a damn. I'd still managed to connect.

.

PS: That was not a pottu. That was a kala teeka for the husbandu and oifu.