The Optimist Taking a Break From Optimism

The following was my facebook status update yesterday. It got a lot of attention because well it was sorta unlike me, the dark emotion not the intellectual piece of writing fyi. The thing is, creativity comes when it does and the context is not of our own choosing so what the heck. Talha pointed out that the status update could actually be "mini post" in itself.

Note: It wasn't this long originally. I added stuff to it. Its hardly 300 words. This is weird for me because its so tiny. Now I'm just rambling to make it bigger :P

When we're young we are told to do anything that makes us happy, not talk to strangers, dream, have a wild imagination, be spontaneous, ask questions to learn more. We think our parents will always be there to take care of us, that love is unconditional, every grownup who smiles at us is awesome. Life is colour, life is sunlight. There is still the good guy/bad guy distinction thanks to cartoons, we hate homework, and studies. Whatever happened yesterday was history. The only thing that mattered was today.

And then we grow up. We realise we can't do everything that makes us happy because there's a society to answer to, we are told to stop dreaming and be realistic, that our imagination will be the death and starvation of us someday, we question our parents' mortality and their depleting healths (I know that's grammatically wrong but pluralising gives a better effect) , we wish we had studied more, or had worked harder. We are told to get out of our individual "bubbles" and face reality. We will eat our own words and extinguish our internal fires with our own hands. The colours and light we thrived upon seem to make us squint. We'll realise even love has conditions, people are not what they seem and smiling is no measure of character.

We switch spontaneity with round the clock planning, we'll realise some questions will remain unanswered forever and some answers make us learn more than we bargained for. We realise how mere strangers have the ability to transform our lives. We stop being thankful for today. All we have are the regrets of yesterday. The only thing that remains is the good/bad guy distinction, with a slight upgrade. We realise that more than any bad guy or any enemy, it is our own self that has the ability to finish us off without assistance. We will be our own worst enemy yet forced to be everyone's friend.

Hoping she comes back to her normal crazy self soon,
Sara (burgundy) Q.

P.S : Why the hell is our cricket team wasting time with Bangladesh? Just got the winning six alert. Afterthought.

The after-party is after the party

The regular readers of A&V, the ones on whom I bestow the title "The Loyal Ones", might remember me writing something about a wedding in a post I made not too long ago. Every wedding is different from any other. If that is true, then a Butt Khandan wedding is incomparable to any other. Why that is you will find out as you delve deeper into this post.

There are traditions that are followed on every wedding. Traditions set by our ancestors, traditions set by religion, traditions set by our culture, traditions set by society. The Butt Khandan takes care to follow all of these and goes a step further. It adds to them. Traditions set by the family. And traditions must be followed.

So just for those who  don't know what a Pakistani wedding entails lets run through the sequence of events. You see, weddings are fun. So much fun in fact that one day is not enough for them. That is  why we have three days. One day for each event, the Mehndi, the Barat and the Valeema.

We begin with the Mehndi. think of it as a pre-party where all the family gets together for just one thing. Having illegal amounts of fun. Just like all the Mehndi's before, the evening was filled with loud music, lots of dancing, lots of food and lots of dancing. Did I mention dancing? I think I didn't. There was also a LOT of dancing. Oh yeah, the bride and groom were there too I think. Wonder who invited them? The function finally winded down late into the night (Read when the owner of the premises told us the time. Politely) and everyone disbursed and proceeded to their own bat caves to prepare for tomorrow. There was however one tradition that remained unfulfilled. The tradition of the after-party. Somewhere in the dark hours of the night the council of cousins gathered to decide the location where this ritual would be performed. Once it was done, the entire khandan switched to nocturnal mode and proceeded to the secret location and celebrated. After all, a party is only as good as the after-party.

The first nightly celebration was tame, after all there was much more to come. It was a simple ritual where we all partook in coffee and other sweet delights.

The second day brought with it, the Barat. My co-author can actually explain better what it is. To keep it small and simple, this function is hosted by the brides family. So we all dressed up, slipped on the shiny shoes and put on our best smiles. The caravan was assembled and we finally made our way to the hotel and yes, we were late. When we got there the situation was dire, the brides family had taken positions at our flanks and the moment we entered they opened fire. It was madness, there were flower petals flying from every direction, a camera crew was in front of us with a blinding light to disorient us. It was total mayhem. We all surrounded the groom to guard him (and to fit in the camera frame). I myself took several hits from the flower petals but I managed to keep it together and escort the groom to the safety of the stage. Then the usual followed. Meets and greets, food, pictures, pictures and pictures and then thank you and goodbye. The council of cousins gathered once again and we headed again to the usual spot except we were late. They had closed down. But as I said, tradition must be followed. So we all got back in our cars and made our way to the opposite end of town to pick up a sheesha from a friends place at three in the morning. On our way, we stopped at every market to pick up something to eat and drink. Then, back at home the party started again. The sheesha filled the room with a smokey haze and the smell of apples and we all talked til sunrise about life, studies, family, the wedding and gir....ummmm.... politics.

The third day came. All of us fulfilled another custom. That is, sleep in the same clothes you wore last night. I'll fast forward here and skip the family breakfast and preparations. The Valeema was upon us. Again, my co-author is better suited to explain what that is. What you need to know is that this function is hosted by the groom and his family. This was our event. I'd really love to tell you what happened but I myself have no clue. What I remember is standing at the doorway greeting every guest that came in, then eating (after having served everyone) and making it in time to get a picture with the bride and groom in an almost empty hall so I could one day say “Hey kids, I was there you know!”. So yeah, that was the Valeema. Oh yeah, like I mentioned, the bride and groom were there too. Who keeps inviting them to these things? Again, to the after-party!

After being denied the fun we had planned the previous day, we decided to go all out. This was the last event and so it had to be big. So, like a vampire brood, we went off into the night. The moment we got home the car stereo was set to full blast and the council of cousins started dancing in the street, a sight that both confused and amused the passers by. Then, our first and only victim came along. The brides father was on his way home but his car was stopped and he was pulled out. The only way he could win his freedom was to join us for one dance, which he did. Once that was over, we all proceeded to the after-party ritual altar chosen by us, Glorias. We were late once again. No need to worry though. The council of cousins had taken precautions this time and they were informed of our arrival well in advance. The smell of sheesha and coffee filled the cold night air accompanied by the sound of several out of tune and out of sync voices as the whole family proceeded to play antakshari (again, Sara Q, help me out here). The fun finally had to come to an end. The residents of F-6 wanted to sleep, in particular one very cranky and vocal gentleman. We all returned to base camp and went to sleep. The next day everyone started to go their own way. The wedding was officially over.

Words can't really describe how much fun we had. When the whole family gets together after such a long time you might not do anything at all but it would still feel like you're having the time of your life. It's good to see how everyone is doing, how everyone has grown and how everyone is moving on. Each character more interesting than the last with their own charms and their own nuances. I really do wish I could describe the feeling.

Til the next post,
Talha A. B.

Note: Don't listen to dark gothic and industrial music when writing a blog post. Otherwise you end up putting words like vampire in a post about weddings. Ever seen that before? :P