It’s been so long since I have churned out something that I somehow feel I have lost the “connect”. I don’t even remember the reason why I wrote my last post. It’s been that long. And as it always happens, have a lot lot to write about.
Like “The Big Bong Wedding”. Or maybe I should rename it “The Great Food and Dance Fair” that happened when two people got married earlier this month. Honestly man, I feel now I know all there is to know about a typical Sylheti (সিলটী or Silôţi) wedding. Got it right pat down to the dialect, hand upon my heart! So while the sister (the boro bouma, or the Jethani, if you must have it) counted on her fingers the number of saris she’d have to wear, one for each different occasion, I wondered if it would be like the last time I had attended a part-Assamese, part-Sylheti wedding… oh yes, that would be my sister’s. Don’t get me started on last time, in case you were meaning to. It should suffice to know that it was a good thing I didn’t have a blog at that time, or else my poor handful of readers would have got bored by the gory details of how a younger sister slogs in her elder sister’s wedding, that they would never have revisited my blog again.
But I digress. Where was I? The second Sylheti wedding I attended. And the dancing. And the eating. And the dancing some more and then eating some more. And the rituals that punctuated these two. I think this was the very first wedding that I had seen, where the “Just Married” bride and groom actually grooved to “Kajra Re” (complete with expressions too), soon to be joined by the groom’s brother and bhabhi, AND his mother as well. I don’t believe I’ve ever had this much fun, unless of course you count last year when this awesome band had come to our university, and I had danced like crazy, or maybe yesterday when I did the same.
Shit, I digress again. Should have focused on the rituals since there are so many. The “Adi Snan” (the groom gets bathed by all married women in and around the family), the “Odhibash“, the actual “Biye” (wedding) and then the “Bashi Biye” (literally translates to stale wedding, takes place the day after the wedding), the “Bidaai” (don’t think I have to translate this), the “Choturtha-Mangal” (Choturtha = fourth, Mangal = auspicious, so that would mean the auspicious fourth day), and finally the party. And unlike other couples who take only the conventional “saat-phere”s (seven rounds, or shaat-paak) a Sylheti couples takes 21! Beat that. Together for twenty-one lives. Leaves absolutely no scope for doubt, I say.
Again, don’t make me go into the details for each of these, because I warn you.. I do know them all. In between posing for the Jiju’s swanky new SLR, and giving the “jukar“s (don’t know the English for it, though some say it is to ululate) accompanying the rituals, I happened to ponder a lot inside my head about the significance of each of the rituals. And just yesterday, I had this brilliant idea about how we need a whole new set of rituals for the times now. But I will hold on to that for a little while. For now.
And at the end of the one week of fun and frolic, I decided I needed to go vegetarian for a little while. A month, to be very precise. And have been so for the last one and a half week, I am happy to announce here. Me, the self-professed meat-lover.
So what else happened? Let’s see, got back in touch with the “student” in me. I think I mentioned this before… how I am living two different worlds now. Planning to get married, and obsessing about my final semester project at the same time. But this week, running around taking part in competitions singing and dancing, and then complaining quite articulately about how things are unfair in this place, I feel suddenly alive. And I am suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I will not get this time back. This time is there in my life for a reason too. So yesterday when I was dancing at the DJ night without holding anything back. in a square inch of space, getting my feet stomped on a hundred times, and getting occasionally brushed with a sweaty-clampy back belonging to some over-zealous dancer (ewwww!), I was telling to myself, “Hell yes, this is life!”
And to balance it all out, I suddenly miss my R, and miss all the good times that we could have had, had this stupid thousands of miles and seven months not come between us.
So much for now. Am just glad I could put it all in without writing a whole novel on it. Promise to myself to be back soon.