A wedding - a celebration of life?

BP was a year junior to me at university. Coming from a similar family background, we clicked. Our paths would occasionally meet in the daily hustle and bustle of our academic lives. Our course required us to spend two of our five academic years away from the main campus, at the university's teaching hospital in the East Coast State of Kelantan.

It was in my last year that BP used to hang out in my room in between his long studying hours. We used to chat about little things, such as quirky occurrences during ward rounds and other similar topics.

Soon, it was 1988, and it was convocation time, marking the beginning of the different paths life would take us. Working in various hospitals, we acquired the necessary skills to progress in our field of expertise.

Periodically, we kept in touch, trying to stay in touch as often as possible. It was the pre-digital era; hence, we had only depended on landlines and physical meetings.

Just last month, I was pleasantly surprised when BP called me on my mobile phone to invite me to his daughter's wedding. It took place in a private hall in a small town.

I used to think weddings were something personal, only to be shared within a close family circle and friends. That a large celebration was opulence and a waste of money that could be put to better use.

After attending the celebration, it dawned upon me that it is more than flaunting one's wealth or one that irks the roving eyes. I began to view wedding celebrations in a different light. It is a celebration of the path that both families traversed. It brings together all the people who were somehow involved in shaping a young couple into what they are today. They must have gone through their ups and downs together. This moment must be the victory lap for their labour of love, not for others to see but for themselves to bask in the glory for a task well done.

As mysterious as life can be, I noticed that many people BP invited for the wedding celebration were also known to me, but not through the standard university connection. The same people who crossed BP's life also crossed mine, albeit at different times during training in various towns. So it was a good catch-up time for me too. Some of them I had lost contact with for over twenty years.

Life springs so many surprises. Just like how I met BP many years after graduating in 1988. It was 1995, and as I was walking along the cobbled streets of Edinburgh one warm November afternoon, who did I bump into? A jubilant BP who had just passed his membership examinations at the Royal College of Medicine! And I was given the honour to share the proud moment of him receiving the scroll from the President of the College.

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The hard work of marriage!

Winter Sleep (Kis uykusu, Turkish; 2014)
Director: Nuri Bilge Ceylan

https://www.amazon.com.au/Winter-Sleep-Movie/
dp/B00PULVVWU

This is a lengthy film, prompting one to ponder what message it aims to convey. Is it the strained relationship between the protagonist and his much younger wife? The main character is Aydin, a retired (failed) actor who has retreated to a bitterly cold part of the country to manage a small hotel that is predominantly out of business during winter. He also owns a few rental properties in the area. He regularly writes in an online column, sharing his observations of the world around him and offering veiled sarcasm to no one in particular. 

Since he examines everything critically, much like an outsider would, is he being a snob? Is he condescending towards the poor or to those who believe in God? At least, that is how the young wife, Nihal, perceives it. She is exasperated by the fact that she is toiling away in the cold rather than in Istanbul, where things are lively. Also staying with them is Aydin's estranged sister, who has separated from her abusive alcoholic husband but now yearns for the good old days with him. 

A few things unfold along the way concerning a hostile tenant and a suspicious donor in Nihal's donation campaign. These events shape Aydin's outlook on life, particularly after both his wife and sister make unpleasant remarks about him during different conversations. This is how the story goes…

It is said that the union of marriage involves sharing and giving. Initially, it is 'what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine.’ It begins as a compromise. No one seeks to dominate the other; rather, they work hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder to ensure that this esteemed institution remains intact. 

Then, it becomes, 'what's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours.' The promise of a joint venture to ensure the continuity of species begins to develop tiny cracks. The fear of being dominated and sidelined for self-interest begins to creep in. Perhaps something has been brewing under the radar surreptitiously. The innate fear of being taken for a fool also seeps in.

That is when all shields begin to rise. What is yours is mine, and what is mine is mine, becomes the renewed mantra. As the inner realisation unfolds and the affairs of the world serve as a guiding light, paranoia sets in. Terms such as gaslighting and secrecy will be introduced into the arena. 

Marriages are not made in heaven, but the institution is chiselled out on Earth. It takes a lot of hard work, and hands do get dirty. 

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Father of the bride's headache!

Good evening. A warm welcome to everyone here. A special welcome to Raphael and Maggie. Selamat datang to the rest and Marc’s family and friends. I guess Marc’s family and friends are no longer Marc’s alone. They are ours, too. Accept our humble salutations. 

In the Indian tradition, more often than not, they want their firstborn to be a male. Back in the 90s, when Divya was born, friends would give unsolicited advice. “It’s ok. The next one will definitely be a boy.” - as if we asked for an opinion, as if they knew, as if we cared. Then Tania was born, and they again gave a sigh. 

And again, as if we asked. Rinse and repeat. That is until Keshav and Danny rolled along.

30 years on, I can stand proud and say they have done well in their own right. 

Many years ago, my friend was getting married. As the main event was over, he saw his father-in-law give a sigh of relief, caressing his chest. He was heard telling his friend, “Ahh, my big headache is over!”  

My friend only understood what he meant 10 years after being married to his father-in-law’s headache. 

We would like to believe it’s our loss and Marc’s gain… of a headache. 

Marc and Divya, jokes aside, you are stepping into a new phase of life. We all just want to wish both of you clear skies and sunny days ahead. There will be rainy days ahead, but don’t fret about it; try singing and dancing in the rain instead. From what I see in Indian movies,
it must be fun. 

Good luck in your future endeavours. 

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Listen, hear and sleep on it!

Good evening everybody. In case you are wondering, we are gathered today to commemorate the matrimony of our daughter Tania and the new addition to the family, our son-in-law, Durgesh. This sounds like the flight attendant announcing over the speaker that we are seated on flight so-and-so to wherever after the extensive checking at the counter, immigration, departure hall, blah, blah. I am waiting for someone, just one day, to jump out yelling, "damn, I'm on the wrong flight!"

Firstly I would like to extend a big welcome to the Ahirwar family from Jabalpur. Also to friends and relatives from near and far. Family members have no choice, there have to be present here today.

Life used to be much easier those days. Tarzan saw Jane, and he said, 'I, Tarzan, you Jane!' And they started a family. Then the young men had to kidnap their brides. They had to ride on horseback and kidnap a girl they fancied in the cloak of the dark and ride with their bride into the night. And now you have all these rituals and obligations to fulfil. Life becomes more and more complicated every day.

Someone mentioned during my wedding that a wedding celebration is a public declaration of one's private intent. Whatever the purpose of the celebration is, it is the upholding of the institution of marriage that matters at the end of the day.

I would like to tell a little secret to the newlyweds to maintain mental health. To Durgesh, hearing and listening are two different things. Sometimes you need to hear only, not listen, to have a peaceful sleep. However, the problem is, to reply, you need to listen. Think about it.
To Tania, whatever problems may crop up, just sleep on it. Things will usually appear clearer after a good night's sleep. Thinking becomes easier. And sometimes, problems have a funny way of solving themselves. But sometimes, not all the time.

To the newlyweds, a happy, fruitful married life. May you prosper and have all the nice things in life.

Thank you.

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Match made in heaven!

As part of the ritual after marriage, newlywed Brahmin couples are told to search for Arundathi-Vasishta pair of stars (Alcor-Mizar). These double stars make part of the Great Bear constellation and named after a great sage, Vasishta, and his philosopher wife, Arundathi. They were an exemplary couple that complemented each other, without one dominating over the other. 

Unlike most double stars where one star would be revolving around the other, the Arundathi-Vaisishta pair orbits around each other. The Hindu traditions believe that that is how a husband-wife pair should be - the couple should work together; not one exerting dominance over the other!

Varaha

It is beyond comprehension how ancient Indians knew so much about astronomy. These traditions have a long history that predates Corpenicus and Gallilee. At a time when the world was arguing about flat Earth and imprisonment of scientists whose discoveries clashed with the Church, the Indians knew that Earth was a sphere. Varaha, Vishnu's boar avatar, tried to save a spherical Earth from the major floods on his snout. (Not a disc)

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We will survive!

The human race must be a resilient lot. Nothing will annihilate them except if they decide to self-destruct. We have been through tragedies in many forms, natural calamities to man-made ones, but we keep coming back strong, shaken but not stirred. All they need is time and space to prosper.

This, I realised when I attended a wedding in Karak, a small town along the Titiwangsa Range which forms the spine of the peninsula, in the state of Pahang. Even though it is located only about an hour's drive from the capital city of Kuala Lumpur, these two towns seem worlds apart. Away from the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, Karak is nicely tucked between hills covered with lush greenery of the tropical forest and its fresh air.

The wedding reception held in the modest premises of a Chinese temple, it covered all the bare necessities. Forget the razzmatazz of the city lights and unnecessary blatant display of bling-bling, the function was never deficient in any other department.
The hall set the mood for a colourful Indian wedding. Draped in contrasting bright red, black and white backdrop, the dais displayed a shining wrought-iron seat fit for the royalties which seated two, naturally for the King and Queen for the day.

Being Malaysians, furthermore from a laid-back Eastern coast town, people were just sauntering jauntily at their own pace, way past the time specified on the invitation card. But what the heck, it is a party, not a scheduled flight.

It is incredible how the people of a small town can sustain their day to day living and fulfil their social obligations even being away from the glaring lights of the city. Somehow, people manage to satisfy their need as they go on their lives. Like in that wedding, the local bakery provided a 3-tier wedding cake, and the town's electrician provided the 'state-of-the-art' sound system to set the pace for merrymaking. The neighbourhood shutterbug immortalised the memorable night digitally in pixels and cine forms. Gustatory needs were met by caterers form the town itself. They were quick to serve a mouth-watering spread that tickled all taste buds and satisfied all palatal cravings.

Give people peace and give them space to express. They will be self-sufficient and establish a prototype for future generations to follow. When their path meets a hurdle, they could initially falter but then quickly recoup, regain strength, and soon they would be sailing again in no time. That is the undying spirit of the human endeavour.

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Pain, but Divine!

Brass, pots, grinding stone, the sacrificial fire, 

millets all essential to symbolise the threadbare

of our existence and the power of the Universe 

over our every action. Till death do us apart 

this irrevocable union for continuity of the 

species. ©FG.

It is that time of my life when friends and relatives start inviting me to their children's wedding. Sometimes I wonder why they do that. Me, a cynic, one who derives schadenfreude by just watching the world go by from the background. The one who sneers within himself which of the weddings that he attends is going to be in the doldrums, which loving couple is going to two-time, which lovey-dovey couple is going to be at each others' throat and much more.

Maybe because of my status of being married, staying married for a reasonable period of time whilst dodging all the curveballs that were hurled my way in my lifetime (thus far) makes qualified to bless the newlyweds. The family may wish me to part with a bit of wisdom to that effect. Maybe, I, being the eldest in the family, had to represent my recently demised father to do the necessary deeds. He, however, was not a great fan of it either and would scoff all the unnecessary displays of fake niceties and falsehoods seen at these functions. Perhaps, the groom's family just wanted the numbers to show their in-laws that they had the manpower and numbers to defend if accusations of shortchanging or shortcoming should arise.

The ancestors knew that people were the worst of eyewitnesses. That is why a Hindu wedding, unlike others, is irrevocable and irreversible as it was done with the elements of Nature as the presiding judge. The sanctity of the occasion is vouched by the elements of Nature - water, fire, wood, wind. The approvals of the spirits of Nature is invoked through the rituals of symbolism and sounds. For good measure, a camera with its watchful eyes is placed amongst the paraphernalia essential in the cajoling procedure. If onlookers in the human form do not stand up if the sacred union were wronged, leave it to Elements. Offenders to the dharmic order would be dealt with and straightened up in their impartial ways.

The couples' intentions may be private but private intentions involving the privates need the approval of the Higher Forces. Within its act, are disseminated the seed of life. Somebody ought to take responsibility for it. Something so good cannot be without a catch. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Somebody has to clear the mess!

You may get away in the mortal world through legal wrangles but beware of the Void. Even video recordings can be brushed aside as fake, Nature, the silent observer would remain anything but quiet. It will definitely get you. If it does not, the guilt and the forces within you would. ©FG

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Just another exchange of vows!

https://scroll.in/article/879633/hidden-under-meghan-markles-givenchy-veil-was-britains-bid-to-hide-its-bloody-colonial-history

COLONIAL HISTORY

Embroidered into Meghan Markle’s veil was Britain’s bid to celebrate its bloody colonial history

The bride’s dress is being praised for its floral motifs of the 53 Commonwealth countries. But colonialism destroyed the lives of India’s weavers.

Danny Lawson / AFP

May 20, 2018 · 12:01 pm
Aparna Kapadia

Meghan Markle wore a beautifully simple, ivory silk dress at her wedding to Britain’s Prince Harry on Saturday morning. The royal wedding has been a global media event though of not much relevance even to the British crown. After all, Harry is the sixth in the line of succession to the throne. And given the pressing world news from just the past week – the killing of dozens of Palestinians in Gaza, North Korea’s threat of withdrawing from nuclear talks – a celebration of the monarchy, of a country barely able to keep itself together, appears strikingly overwrought.

Markle’s wedding dress was created by Clare Waight Keller, a British woman and the first female designer of Givenchy. The garment’s most dazzling feature is its 16.5-foot silk tulle veil that has been hand-embroidered with flora representing the 53 countries of the Commonwealth. The media was all praise for the dress as a sartorial choice that represents a break from tradition. The New York Times’s fashion critic raved that it “placed the woman proudly front center and underscored Ms. Markle’s own independence”. The simplicity of the dress was also widely praised for upholding feminist values rather than those of a fairy-tale princess.

Missing in the commentary was what seems to be an obvious point – the arrogant representation of 53 Commonwealth countries is a celebration of colonial rule. Another reminder, if one was needed, that the true reckoning of the unfortunate history of colonialism in Britain is far away. It is important to restate what that was – a violent period of centuries when the hapless Commonwealth, nearly 25% of the world, suffered under an extractive alien power’s rule.

A conscious choice

Markle’s dress was not a designer’s fanciful faux-pas but a conscious choice. The BBC reports that the bride suggested the design because the Commonwealth will be an essential part of her and Prince Harry’s official work after they are married. Clearly, the sad truth of Britain’s imperial history eludes the Prince and the new Princess. The media too, especially British media, abets this glossing over. And this matters, as recently as 2014, a YouGov survey, for instance, found that most people in Britain still think the British Empire is more something to be proud of (59%) rather than ashamed of (19%).

To add insult to injury, the dress is being celebrated as a hand-crafted work, the creation of a local designer. If one just looked at India, the largest of the Commonwealth countries, of the many British-era atrocities, none were more consequential and impoverishing than the destruction of the local handloom and textiles of India. In the early days of the British East India Company’s trade with the subcontinent in the 1600s, chintz, the hand-printed and natural-dyed fabric with floral designs, was the rage in Europe; first as decorative household furnishings and later for fashionable garments. Known as palampores in Britain, these fabrics and other fine Indian textiles gained so much popularity that a parliamentary act was passed prohibiting their sales.

From this time, until India’s Independence in 1947, the Indian artisan and weaver’s livelihood and skills were systematically destroyed. It was no accident then that Gandhi chose the charkha, the Indian weavers’ basic cotton-spinning tool, as the symbol of India’s struggle for independence.

Markle’s British-designer dress and its veil with the hand-embroidered flora of the 53 Commonwealth countries overshadows this dark past. It should not surprise us, given the new age of denialism, that the royal family and the British media thought nothing of reclaiming the bloody history of colonialism as a point of celebration.

Aparna Kapadia is a historian of South Asia at Williams College in the US.

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It used to be good to be King

© daily telegraph

In 1981, the televised event was easily the most watched event of recent times. The institution called marriage was still looked upon as a beacon of hope to keep the family unit intact. When they said that it was a public declaration of private intent, they meant it. It still had respect. The one act that solemnised the union of male and female was treated with due respect. Young girls went agape looking at their idol whose hairstyle they would soon be aping. They too wished that their wedding dress would be as glamorous. Forget the fact that groom stuck out like a sore thumb; his royal status would nullify all other deformities. How they adored the horse carriages, the guest list, the guests' wardrobe and the flowers. But see how it all turned out - the two-timing, the depression, the possible contamination of bloodlines, the accident, the conspiracy theory.

Much has happened since then. It is all water under the bridge now. The confluence of hearts is no longer only legitimate between members of different sexes. The bond that holds this threadbare link is no stronger than the paper that it is inked on. The preoccupation with self and hedonism has created a mockery of the man-sanctioned pledge of loyalty and responsibility. Infusion of genetic juices is no longer sacred. Offspring may have two males for parental duties. Divine approved decree is given legal status. Why the mockery if legality is the prime aim?

© Crazy History of the World

This time around the royal wedding did not garner that much excitement, at least in Malaysia, the once most of the most profitable colonies in the Commonwealth. Come to think of it, the natives' wealth was pilfered and divided amongst the self-proclaimed superior race of the world. Perhaps it is the heap of scandals upon scandals that the local media is churning by the minute, after the local elections that the function remains a non-event to the ordinary Malaysian.

Values change. If just about half a century ago, a king had to abdicate his throne to marry a woman of similar stature - a divorcee, actress and American; now it is a non-issue. Maybe it is because the groom is quite low down in the pecking order of ascension to the throne.

Over the years, the idea of a monarch who is bestowed by genetic make-up to decide on the direction of the country does not excite people anymore. Starting with the French Revolution, then the Bolshevik uprising and the World Wars, the royalties have fallen down like a house of cards. Now, it seems like they have to sing for their supper. They have to re-invent themselves to stay relevant. The British royal family have to keep quiet while exhibiting the share of their loot, The Kohinoor, shamelessly, without creating any more controversies. The Bulgarian dynasty was revived after winning the Presidential elections as a commoner. The Spanish have to fight out the long arms of the law. It is not easy to be a King anymore!

 © Danny Lawson / AFP

The dark cloud that hung over the matrimonial garb; 

the motifs of flowers of the former colonies of the bygone

Empire rekindles the dark past the colonial masters.

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