It’s the Wedding Season again in this part of Southern India and the Wedding Invitations come in a flood, draped in various outfits and mesmerising Spring-Summer collections: from midget-Small, through the normal –Medium & Large to the epic Encyclopedia ones – Extra Large, Double & Triple Extra Large! Each Invitation tells a story and provides a sumptuous meal for thought.

For starters, many do not seem to know the difference between ‘Wedding and Marriage’. Often they invite us to ‘take part in the marriage’ and most do the job by ‘soliciting’. The English language has become so common that it is not uncommon to ‘marry its misuse’.

A Wedding is a Ceremony, a Function, an Event, where a Man and a Woman (or, as things have now evolved – between any two persons) get married with all kinds of chants, hymns, blessings being thrown on the young (maybe old too) couple, hoping that they catch them all and stay married (to each other), and live happily together, hopefully for the rest of their lives. We invite family and friends to attend the Wedding Ceremony, and partake as witnesses (for legal purposes and future boundary issues) or as participants in the joyful celebrations. Once the Wedding event is over, the invitees ‘consciously uncouple’ from the Wedding so that the just married couple can get along with the more serious business of ‘executing the marriage’ or, if they cannot, at short notice (sometimes it happens within minutes – like a famous Virgin would sing to you!) they divorce, and may get married again in another Wedding Ceremony. Got it? Of course, the Wedding bells ring-in on property and inheritance and intends to put a cap on them for future claims – cash or estate!

Now let’s move ahead to the wording of the Wedding Invitation itself. I find it awfully hard to accept the word “solicit” (typically an Invitation would begin with, I solicit your esteemed presence…) find an honourable place in a Wedding Invitation, given the history of the word “solicit”. It might now be quite normal to use the word more generically – in an ever changing world; but if you dig the history of the word “solicit” you find that it is typically applied to Prostitutes earnestly requesting sex-work; gathered in the heart of the City or in the dark by-lanes of a Town or in the arteries of a Village; they tout for business, make sexual advances to secure business in sex. Wow! Would you solicit people to attend a Wedding? What business are you in?

A Wedding Invitation – I would not invite anybody to my marriage (that’s confidential) – being formal, should it not be in the third person? It is the one occasion in your life where you treat yourself  as a Queen/Princess or King/Prince? Hence, you would say, His Royal Highness invites so and so…rather, Mrs and Mr Kumar invite you to the Wedding of their Daughter/Son… We would expect guests to attend the Wedding, eat, drink, dance, make merry and leave – and not stay back to ‘participate in the process of marriage’, would you? It’s not difficult to visualise the consequences!

So much for the titles, lets move over to the sub-titles. It’s almost mandatory to pout the educational qualifications of the Bride & Groom and where they are employed. I saw an invitation where – thank the Printer – the degree / educational qualification of the Bride & Groom was not mentioned, but that of the brother of the bride was boldly indicated (almost with a shout) that too with an unfinished stroke over the Post Graduation. Is this an advertisement, rather ‘soliciting’ a partner – next in line? Then, there are others where a long list of who’s who in the Country (sorry, Family) is listed, as special invitees, along with wives, children (they are called fancy names in the vernacular, such as ‘kutties’ – kids); maybe someone will add their pet dog and cat too! The worst is, if you invite a Political Biggie to head the Wedding; then it’s all banners and party festoons, and colours and designations… you will have to hunt with marriage dogs for the Bride & Groom in the Invitation!

Why cannot we simply keep the Invitation simple and formal – talking about the couple and their parents (or the inner circle) – nobody else, and how, and where the Celebrations are being held (and whether to bring small or large presents). Does it ever matter! There was one Invitation which came in the form of a ‘Large’ gold spangled Booklet (cost would have sufficed for a quick honeymoon trip in the nearest Hill Station) where there was never one mention of a phone number one could call up to RSVP! Well they were a highly placed Business Group, high also in Society and perhaps they though that including a phone number would be equal to soliciting? (Business, or otherwise!).

Lets invite guests to the Wedding Ceremony and allow the couple to keep the marriage between themselves! Mind the Invitation!

[Prologue: I wrote this hilarious Essay in 2008, after I moved to Delhi in 2006, at a time ‘road-rage’ was fashionable  on the Delhi roads, and when you could get shot for daring to challenge someone messing with the traffic rules! Perhaps, it’s still about the same!]

I’ve always been fascinated by Cowboys, Red-Indians (and John Wayne movies) and the wild-wild West. I never realised how much of an Urban Cowboy I had become living on the wild-wild Delhi ‘trail.’

I drifted in from yonder Southern state of Tamil Nadu and speak with a cool ‘idli-sambhar’ drawl. I wear two ‘temper guns’ slung low on the waist, the butts smooth with constant use. I had almost become a domesticated guy before riding, into Delhi, many years ago, when a certain Delhi Lieutenant  / Sheriff made me realise that without an ID, I have no identity and live in a lawless Country. For months, I laid sprawled on the sidewalks and then one day, I bought myself a 45 Horse Hyundai at the Double ‘H’ Ranch – a mix of Korean & Indian stock, said the Dealer – and rode into Town!

I ride furiously, the spur always drawing blood. I ferociously guard the trail and shoot down anyone crossing my path, both guns blazing. I am a name to reckon with in these parts and they call me SUDDEN. At the cross-roads, I ride like hell fearing a ‘Red Indian’ ambush but slow-down on seeing Orange and stop on seeing Green. I feed my Horse speed-grass with energy boosters, at the local filling station and saddle him up myself!

I met a sullen beauty with raven black hair (cascading to her waist – I wished it did!) and we bought ourselves a place at the edge of the Delhi creek, near the Yamuna-Grande River, overlooking the Double ‘H’ Ranch, and called it the Double ‘M’ Ranch. We raised a single kid who grew into an Urban Cowboy as well, but drove Colts like we did ’em grown up Stallions! We often meet-up over mug coffee at the Home camp-fire place, ‘herding cow stories’. He affectionately calls me ‘Dad’, tosses over an iPhone and sleeps in the saddle – but watches my back!

I’ve never been bushwhacked and live to tell my tale.

Indian Independence Days are becoming mighty routine with the Government wearing colourful turbans and ‘Talking Loud’ from the ramparts of the Red Fort in a ‘strange language’ – that many of us think we understand. We then digress to the life of the Father of the Nation; debate about Gandhi & Bose (who did a better job in getting us our Independence: the one with the Stick or the one with the Gun?), and go home to watch the mother of all TV Shows: the Tamil style debates, ‘Patti-Mandrams’ do roaring business on such occasions. Along the way, we buy and wave the tri-colour or glue it to the ‘podium’ of our cars, where it stays!

I’m a wee bit cynical at the moment, seeing the disastrous performance of India at the Rio Olympics. One little girl, Dipa Karmakar showed us – in a brief ‘Produnova’ vaulting moment – that we are actually made of mind-boggling stuff deep inside, but refuse to flex that muscle & use intrinsic yoga powers for snake-charming our way to a ton of medals! Remember, we once won an uninterrupted string of Gold Medals in Hockey (…they came, like Wordsworthian daffodils, in a never ending stream) – stick-to-stick and then… one fine Olympic Summer, we got beaten blue, black & brown, by the biggest stick, ever. No looking back!

Time to readjust our cross-hairs, focus and set ourselves a ‘modest’ goal of winning not less than 20 Medals (any metal) in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Let’s do it!

Over the past weeks I watched with glee, the passing of India’s path-breaking Goods & Services Tax (GST), but was disappointed that the “Ammadified” Men-in-white of the AIADMK (a Regional Political Party of Tamil Nadu, headed by a Leader who calls herself Amma – mother ) chose to stage a walk-out of Parliament – while every other Party voted, ‘Yes’. Walking-out is now a full–time job of the Tamil Nadu Politician: the DMK (the Opposition party in TN) is always doing it in Chennai; and with the Zika Virus having infested the AIADMK with the deadly walking-out disease – they are doing the same in Delhi. Right now, the Vesthi’s & Lungi’s are down. But, may be a time would come when they would lift it, fold it neatly half-way, show their stripes (shoot-the-cat: translate to Tamil, literally), and stage a cat-walk out! You never know! The DMK Opposition Leader should have stuck to his colorful pants (& shirts) –perhaps borrowed a sun-striped suit & boot from the Honorable PM of India.

Meanwhile, at the Rio Olympics, India has outsourced all Medal Winning to a certain Mr. Phelps (spotted with ancient Chinese pain killing bubbles on his Herculean shoulders) – we gotta check out his genes: maybe there is an Indian hiding somewhere! By the time India wins a medal, Rahul Gandhi may grow a very long white beard and PM Modi may switch to a clean-shaven look! We hope that they, and we, get meaningful insights by then!

The ‘Discovery of India‘ is happening again, and Indian Parliamentarians have finally discovered that POK is an integral part of J&K and India! Wow! Wonder, what the PO is doing in K? Should not we take back what is rightfully ours? Send Rajinikanth to sing in Kashmir…MGR’s did not work! Someone is already shooting Kabali-2? Or, why not ‘Kashmir Beautiful Kashmir’

There’s a lot happening in India! Some things happen only in India!

The death of Muhammad Ali, brought back a double glove-full or memories of my own Boxing Days. When at Montfort School, Yercaud, TamilNadu, India, I was tweeny-weeny guy – one that a tiny gust of wind could easily blow-off of to the edge of the World: I decided to box myself out of my bony frame and enrolled for Boxing Coaching under our then School Instructor Tiger ‘Nat’ Terry (TNT was his Boxing Ring Name in the Madras Presidency /State days) who looked very much like  Ali himself. TNT ‘had a history’ – he had come to India, from Indonesia, for Boxing-Ring Fights and during an Organised Fight challenging the then Madras State Champion (I think, a Mr. Arunachalam) he gave such a powerful & deadly uppercut that it missed his opponent’s chin and knocked-off (pulled-out, literally) his nose, leading to the Madras State Champion’s death. You know the Tamil Nadu crowd: they went berserk and hounded TNT, who took refuge in Yercaud…and ended up teaching boxing in Montfort. He boasted he could beat Muhammad Ali – if given a chance, and in fact he could hit the spring-ball with equal speed, during practice. Believe me, I had seen him do it!

Most of us kids at School landed our first punches on his ‘ample tummy’ – which he encouraged – to show of his grit in taking it all!

Under his coaching, I earned my first Ring-Fight, in the ‘Mosquito-Weight category’ in Class 10, I think, with a classmate – Ravi Gandhi – It was a 3 round fight, each lasting about a minute and the Winner was declared on points earned basis (Ali kind of Knock -outs were rare). Well, I fought damn well – but lost, and the surprise was, I was declared ‘BEST NOVICE LOSER’ and got a Cup bigger than the guy who beat me – I still have it (with a Nose very much intact!). I’ve been a ‘Fighter’ ever since… won some…lost some! (Life’s vicissitudes!)

The Butterfly and Bee became famous, only because of Ali’s famous line, “I float like a Butterfly and sting like a Bee“. Who can forget that famous Muhammad Ali based song by Jonny Wakelin, ‘The Black Superman’ (catch me if you can…) – one of my all time favourites. Muhammad Ali’s tongue competed with his famous EVERLAST gloves in throwing punches – one could hardly tell the difference. Never mind, he brought Boxing on to the World Stage like never before and like none before him. He fought four equal & fair rights for his kind and that ‘sparkle in his eyes’ was a signature tune. Only Parkinson’s Disease could knock him off, after Joe Frazer and George Foreman. RIP Muhammad Ali!

When Little Red Riding Hood ventured into the Forest to see her sick Grandmother, living on the edge, on the other end, her Mother sends her off with the Words, ‘Don’t talk to strangers’. She did just that, and the rest is a ‘grim’ fairy tale!

My car was due for service, and a female voice at TVS Sundaram Honda, Salem, kept pounding my phone for a date. I finally relented and said 30^th May was all right – book a sexy slot at the 8.30am Calendar Table – so that ‘delivery’ can happen by 12 Noon. We had a deal!

So there I am sitting in the Customer Lounge – after handing over the car keys, true to date and having signed on the Job Card – reading the morning Newspaper; in walks a white (clad in a clean white short sleeve shirt and matching well-ironed white pant), surely 75+, old man and settles down next to me. After a few tense moments of come-hither, look-yonder looks, our eyes met and we started a wonderful conversation. It appears that he thought 9am was an early-bird time and with that kind of an appearance he could get back his Car before lunch-time. Sorry, I told him, I arrived at 8.30am and there were already 10 cars ahead of me, and I willed a time of 12 Noon. We both joked about how we could have queued up with our neem-tooth brushes, folded lungi and mug of water – early birds get the worm! We then talked about education – why kids are becoming dumber at Schools and how wider travel would open-up minds, why the environment at home is so important to grow confident kids, how working in Mumbai makes men out of children; the inevitable Jayalalithaa (strong & courageous – he said); of course, Karunanithi (brilliant, clever – he said); Modi Sarkar, and how good governance is what we need – not table fans, cows & goats but roads and infrastructure to go on and buy them of your choice; Ramayana – why following rules is awfully important and how a King decides when & how much of a punishment is enough; Mahabharata – why we need to get over the Arjuna-effect in our lives; Running Power Plants; Building Airports…etc., ending with me demonstrating Modi’s Digital India initiative – asking for his car (actually his Daughter’s) number and by instant return SMS finding the Owner. In between, I quickly slid to the nearby KFC, grabbed a Snacker by the throat – ate it, and returned to continue the conversation. When we finally unlocked our eyes it was 12 noon, and my car was ready. I hurriedly said goodbye and left quickly – dragged by the Service Advisor to ‘pay’ for the ‘date service’ and clear the area. It was all over in a flash. No names, no nothing. I had been talking to a complete stranger… and immensely enjoyed it – felt younger (minus 70 ) Ha!