Sunday, January 24, 2010

Bade Damaad Ji!!!

Staying away from the city where you are born and brought up certainly has some downsides. Not only you miss the support structure provided by relatives, but also you start missing to and fro visits to/by them. You also start missing fun during various family functions especially marriages and few typical characters during every such function which provide unlimited entertainment. One of such characters is Bade Daamad Ji.

So let’s go back a few years and try visualizing his character.

He was to get married a few years ago. And when he was, he was the king. He was the toast of everyone’s eyes including his own family and the ones who targeted him.

Then he got married. He realized that from the stage of “being targets of many” and enjoying the power to reject, he had reached the stage where he had lost it all. Now it was just one.

But he still enjoyed the importance given to him at his in-law’s place. He was still the cynosure because he was the only ‘son-in-law’ till then. When he visited his wife’s place ‘Sasural’, he was treated like a king. He would go to his wife’s place to drop her on the LML Vespa given to him in dowry. Once he reached his ‘Sasural’, he would get down from his scooter, park it and stand there with one hand on the scooter to strike a pose with swagger. He would strike this pose as if he was a hunter and his scooter was a tiger he had just hunted. One hand would be on the headlight where as his left leg would be on he scooter.

Then he would enter the house and get surrounded by almost everyone. “DaamaJi-DaamadJi” is something he could hear clearly. He would greet the ones older than him. He would sit and enjoy the different sweets and snacks and talk about LML Vespa being not so stylish whereas Bajaj Calibre looked really sleek. But he would also clarify that he wasn’t complaining about the dowry. In fact if he wasn’t forced on a gun point to take dowry, he wouldn’t have taken it. Soon a group of youngsters/teenagers would arrive shouting JeejaJi-JeejaJi. He acted as if he was a toffee seller surrounded by kids. The boys would start asking for the keys of his scooter which he would stubbornly refuse. He would flirt with the young girls in front of everyone because it’s the nature of relationship. It would be like a carnival.

Finally, he would get up to leave but people would ask him to stay for some more time. This would happen 4-5 times after an interval of 15 minutes and just before people actually ask him to leave, he would depart. As soon as he came back home, he would complain about the sweets he got as parting gift. He would have preferred Motichhoor ke Ladoo which he was never given. “Cheap People” he always thought.

Few weeks later, He would go back again. Every time people would take good care of him to make sure nothing irked him. He would keep rising bar for them by throwing super-starry tantrums. His every tantrum would be accepted with smiles.

And today, after a few years, one of his sisters-in-law is getting married. He is realizing that the monopoly he enjoyed in his Sasural is about to be lost. He will have to share it with someone else. He will no longer be ‘the only one’.

He is a few years older, has a few grey hairs in whatever is left on his head, wears glasses, has managed a small tummy and looks as if age is catching up with him. Realities of life and boredom engulfed with it have taken a toll on his cheerfulness. He has realized that there is just a little difference between a job and a marriage. Both look refreshingly exciting to start with but two years later, boredom sets in and you have to start finding interest in them. Just that you may get many shots with jobs but just one with marriage.

He, father of two, gets ready in the same brown suit he wore in his marriage. He is surely a little complainant about not being gifted a new suit by his father-in-law and no one buys a suit in India but for marriages. So he has to be contempt with the old suit. His wife is also getting ready in a red saaree, wearing old jewellery, putting loads of Sindoor on her forehead which looks so red as if the backlight of the scooter has been fixed on her forehead and also wears quintals of lipstick which make her look as if she has eaten a few rats.

He starts from home on the very same LML Vespa which has lost its shine, has a few dents, averages lesser by at least 10 KMS/Ltr and demands a service every 2 months. He makes smaller of the kids stand in front of the scooter and older one sit between him and his wife who is sitting in the backseat.

He arrives at the marriage-venue expecting the same importance he enjoyed earlier. He doesn’t get it as everyone is busy in the marriage. He puts his youngest kids down, asks his wife to get down with the older kid and parks the scooter. No longer is there a swagger of a hunter who has just hunted a tiger.

He holds his younger kid and walks inside the Shamiyana. Suddenly he realizes his wife runs and disappears somewhere inside where females of the house are sitting. He feels disgusted to be left deserted and it starts showing on his face.

Suddenly someone spots him, greets him and informs others.

“Bade DaamadJi- Bade DaamadJi” he can hear the whispers. From DaamadJi to Bade DaamaJi, he has earned a prefix which clearly signifies him getting old.

“Oh, so he has come. Go take care of him and make sure he doesn’t create any nuisance” some of the young ones are told. They come running to attend him.

He turns them away saying “Go attend the groom.”

“No no. You want something to eat?”

Arey ab naye waale ko dekhiye. Apna kya hai? Hum to baasi ho gaye ” (Go attend the new one. Who am I? I am a stale piece now). He starts to show signs of throwing some old tantrums but is not given a chance. His tantrums are no longer responded with smiling faces. Instead, people start neglecting him. He feels like an MP who has lost his seat in latest elections.

Marriage ceremony ends and he sees a new DaamadJi enjoying everything once he did – the importance, the gifts, tantrum-tolerance and the rest. His heart starts burning when he sees the dowry gift – a Bajaj Calibre.

“Bikes are not a match to scooter. A scooter can carry you, wife and three kids. Try doing that on a bike” he tells someone.

He feels jealous but deep down inside but realizes the brutal truth of life. Only thing permanent in life is change.

His smile tells his replacement – “Just wait for next one to get married. Then you and I will sit together and discuss how tasteless the Rasogullas were last night.”

His replacement, oblivion to the fact that his future’s smile has a message for him, enjoys his reign as if it’s never going to end.

5 comments:

Spiff said...

Just like Premchand knew how to write about the poor people...u seem to have the knack of writing for married guys....

Dreamer said...

teri saali ki shaadi hui kya abhi.

Aditya said...

Haha what an apt description of a married guy! Superb thinking and creative writing !!

Sachin Gulhane said...

nice one ... I m sure it is inspired by true story .. 9No wonder it's yours )... I know ypu love calibre than Vespa :-)
but as always ur blogs are good to read... keep it up

Anonymous said...

I really like when people are expressing their opinion and thought. So I like the way you are writing