For the myopic many, it is an easy decision... to indulge in the prettiness and reach a towering exaltation which makes it smoother to go through the ordeal that is marriage. I also believe that the grandeur associated with a wedding is part of a conspiracy theory by the propagators of this institution to cloud the vision even of the most sagacious man or woman. It is only fair to be on a level playing field and then race for the 'whos more pathetic' title.
And then begins 'crappily ever after'. It comes full throttle first at the guys. Suddenly someone for whom handbags equaled utility realizes how your huge yellow bag has to accommodate a hairbrush, a kohl pencil, a lipgloss and the rest are sundry items thrown in as a filler. He now has huge vocab issues which he tries to cope with for he knows not what a clutch, a tube, a shrug or the MAC strobe lotion is. On a serious note, his TV time gets split between Ten Sports and Star World; He who has never panicked unless India's losing a match is now clearly stressed if the geyser breaks down. Never had any attention been paid to anything, apart from the TV or laptop at dinner and now in a flash he has to take time out to appreciate the delicacy prepared painstakingly for him. Between the devil and the deep sea, wanting to burn his fingers and dive into the stormy waters at the same time. Frequently meeting an expectant gaze or a disappointed sigh; for being solely responsible for another person, brings with it, along with undying love- PMS, high decibel venom and a lifestyle overhaul. Undying love now sounds like an oxymoron :)
Though more wieldy for the girl.. what stumps her is how elementary the transformation is and if you think thats music to her ears, it is'nt. Cuz she was armed with a duffel bag to dawn her jaw dropping avatar at her mothers' but not with an appetite to stomach food that her taste buds refuse to recognize. Guilt is something she experienced when she overspent on a pair of striking indigo sandals, not when she slept till 11 AM on a weekend. And for the angelic non-diplomats it does take great effort to restrain from clawing someones face out every time the old chatty neighbour who happens to be her boyfriend's friend, talks like he knows it all, for she would'nt give a toss, had she encountered him at a pub, in a mall or while at work. The identity crisis looms large, she hangs on tight to her sleepover sessions with girlfriends, occasional drives to get a drink and trips to the mall with no agenda what-so-ever. She hates the cocoon which beckons.
And then unknowingly without making an attempt to glorify where they're placed in life, they notice the following: That everyone around them is getting married or hoping to someday and that the former meet their elbow grease to socialize with a frail 'hmm'... as if just trying enough to peek through the shell they've gotten into. The latter kick around before learning how to swim, they don't know what to do with life so they keep trying to entertain themselves by latching on to lonely others like themselves, like a log of wood to keep afloat. And slowly the blur that becomes reality has you nodding your head in agreement yet again to the age-old rule: Each generation carries with it a midas touch which gets lost in translation to the new age contemporaries, so you see the corrosion every time you see an amateur. Solving the ever-existing conundrum about why girls always fall for older men.
It really doesn't do much harm, when on a foggy winter morning you've got someone to drive you to a plate of waffles with warm maple syrup.
No comments:
Post a Comment