Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

-Dale Turner-

Monday, 3 November, 2008

Feminine handicap

On the run-up to sis' engagement - which involved visits to the beauty parlour, shopping, matching jewellery, making decorations and rangolis and more - sis and I realised that we suffered from one big handicap: certain feminine skill sets.

We have so many cousins and friends for whom making a big rangoli or applying mehendi or choosing the perfect facial is child's play. But for sis and me, it involves SOS calls and elaborate google searches.

We have taken this up as a challenge and have decided to acquire some essential life skills because learning to apply mehendi or do a pedicure can actually save several thousands of rupees.

As we felt quite insufficient and inadequately prepared for life, a particular young cousin sagely counseled: "everyone has their uses, you cannot make a rangoli, so what, you get your friends the best job offers".

Lost and found

My legs, my feet, all hurt so bad that I cant taken even a step without a wince. Sis' engagement went on brilliantly yesterday, though we lost and found some two lakh worth jewellery amidst tears and prayers, fought with the hotel management over arrangements and nearly choked the bride and groom (hence) with smoke and sandalwood.

We questioned all our faith in God when we lost all the jewelery that sis had carefully colour coordinated, learnt to wear a brave face and get going with the rituals, found out the strength that an extended family alone can instill at times of crisis and deposed our faith back in God when we found the jewel box intact but misplaced.

We all wore colour-coordinated clothes and I got a grand aunt got very emotional because my tissue sari happens to be an exact replica of her muhurtam sari. And here, I was thinking that I bought something offbeat! I think Jeej sneaked some of our plans to his folks, because they also came dressed in a colour theme and many of the men wore kurtas made of some paper-like material. How they rustled as they carried the "seeru" and what fun we would have had if it had rained.... hee, hee!

All those picking up of relatives, styling garlands, decorating the house, packing, talking, managing the dining hall, playing sis' page girl made me feel like Maa Multi-taskeshwari. I liked my "moggus" in rice flour and rangolis with flowers because they turned out pretty well for a first time.

I slung a camera on my neck the entire time and clicked away to glory. And when the big fat Indian family sat to watch it on TV back home, we had a huge time making fun of each other. My photographic skills need some rehab, but I am all spurred to make that home video.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God..... please let me be six again.

But seriously, I have to get used to being grown up now - every second person asking "when is yours?" certainly helped - because I saw that I am no longer what my younger cousins are now: playing in the lawns blissfully unaware of the chaos inside; sneaking into the dining hall for ice creams and gulab jamuns; or battling parental and "relative" pressure to choose offbeat courses.

Thank God, I have an elder sis, because when she does the growing up act, I have time to get ready. But do I want to be a bride?


My nephew is a slothbear