Tuesday 27 December 2011

The letter I might never write

Our son Chathu is getting married. He has given many anxious moments to his parents all these years. There are days when we had speculated about his sexual orientation, virility and hormonal imbalances which have led to an unexplained disinterest (perhaps mutual) in the opposite sex. While I had always ascribed it to the rather unsuccessful track record of his father with women and thereby dismissing it all as part of his genetic makeup, his mother has been making several futile attempts at matchmaking.  Finally Chathu has found a partner of his liking who is, incidentally not from our community/religion/state/nationality. We, his parents cordially extend this invitation to attend his wedding.
This is a marriage with a difference. It will be conducted at an Old age home near our village in Kerala, where old parents of many grown up kids are spending the last days of their lives, some scorned and unwanted. There are some who live there out of choice also, for the rather fragile security environment near their original place of residence or due to the extreme feeling of desolation and loneliness. You, dear friend, with your presence, would be making their lives interesting for a day. Be prepared to hear boring stories from a distant past related at a meandering pace.
     After having witnessed several weddings, where humans look like moving mannequins decked up in pounds of gold and acres of silky finery, I am issuing this small warning. If you wear gold, do it at your peril. It will be confiscated and donated to the Old age home. Gifts are not accepted. If you still feel like giving something, I would be happy to receive a token amount, not exceeding Rs 500, in the form of a crossed cheque drawn in the name of the Old Age Home.
             A meal consisting of one Sabzi, one Daal and a sweet with Rice, chappati and curd will be served. No plastic tumblers and packaged food will be served and you are expected not to waste any food. You will be enjoying this meal in the relative discomfort of a non- air-conditioned hall and in the company of old people residing in the home. There won’t be chanting of Shlokas or a ceremony around holy fire. I, the father intend to declare them married, much in the style of declaring open the Olympic Games. After the brief function the couple are expected to proceed to a civil office to register their marriage and thence to their city of work. There won’t be any honeymoon in Maldives or Malibu. Neither Chathu, nor I can afford it. I don’t expect the bride or her parents to pay for it either.
     You may be wondering if I had gone crazy in old age. Well, it is true that old age has brought with it insecurities and a certain inexplicable frugality. Add to it the long years spent in an ill paid Govt job and you have the perfect makings of a cranky, miserly old man. Hence,I will scrounge on the money a little. The Missus and I are extremely shaken by the display of wealth and vulgar expenditure on the marriages that we have attended. Hence we decided to make a small difference. Of course Chathu has expressed his deep displeasure at this embarrassing venture of ours. He has reluctantly agreed to lend his presence for this formal function to satisfy an old man’s whims and eccentricity. He will be partying with his friends separately and, understandably, wants none of his friends to see what an embarrassment his parents have become in old age.
PS: I, along with Missus, are moving into the same Old age home after the wedding. You are welcome to drop in whenever you like. It would make our day a wee bit brighter.