Marwari madness

You know how you can be completely at ease in your own home around your own family? There is no shame in licking your fingers clean and smacking your lips after a good meal. In fact, you don’t bother to offer anyone else before you heap mountains of food on your own plate and get down to hog (or does that happen just at my place?!). My own family is very small; I stay with my parents and my younger brother. It is perfect in its own way...lot of drama-just the way we like it (we don’t admit it but we practically beg for it), never-ending discussions on practically everything under the sun which is stirred and spiked with arguments.

But visit someone’s place and you would really try to avoid asking, ‘May I use the washroom please”? (Washroom: a fancy-shanzy terminology for the loo. Pfft!) Anyhoooo....I avoid using the loo at anyone else’s place. Maybe my phobia of public toilets cascades down to house-loos as well. ‘Psychiatrist’ you say? Well, I just have a thing about cleanliness, that’s all! I would rather hold in my pee for 2 hours than visit a public loo. Umm...maybe a visit to the quack wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Coming back to the point, being ‘well-behaved’ at another’s home is something that is internalized for life. Isn’t that what was drilled into our odd-shaped bald heads when we were tiny? At home you can just be yourself. Yes, there are some homes that are like second homes. Take for instance, my cousin’s place or my best friend’s place. At such homes, sleepovers are common, using the loo would not be such an issue (2 days is NOT the same as 2 hours people. Trust me!) and pigging is almost  ritualistic.

Then there are Marwari households.

One of my closest friend stays in Calcutta AND he comes from a Marwari household. A double whammy!! My first time in Calcutta was when I was about 12 and all I remember from my first visit was the pouring rains, the ‘fishy’ stink and the dilapidated buildings. Very unimpressive indeed.

This friend of mine namely Ankit, is from Manchester and we met when both of us were pursuing our postgraduate studies together. Same class. Same block. Very different people. Best friends. Opposites attract..that sorta thing. So long story short- course gets over and he returns to Calcutta and I get back to Delhi. Three months later, his elder brother is to get married. I did meet Sunil, the to-be-groom when he made a trip to Manchester on his journey en-route to London (Purpose of visit: ‘Family business’. This is a common answer you can expect when you ask a Marwari as to what his Dad does/ what he plans on doing himself. Pat comes the reply- “Family business”). After much emotional-senti persuasion by Ankit, my Mom succumbed (Good job Ankit!!) and it was decided that I could spend a week in Calcutta for the pre-wedding Marwari ceremonies.

I was to stay at Ankit’s place. And this is where the madness begins. So there is no simple way to describe my experience at the Marwari Household. This is a somewhat audacious attempt on my part. I hope it will help many of you brave people who plan to venture into the M.H.

• 1.     When you enter a M.H, be sure you have a pen and notepad. How else is one supposed to remember the names of the entire village who resides in one huge household? Either that or you will need to start consuming those memory pills at least a month in advance before your stay at the M.H. 

Maddy applauds the Marwari memory

• 2.    I think the bloke who came up with the idea to manufacture those stomach digestives like Eno/Gelucil had suffered at the hands of a Marwari. The daily breakfasts of samosas and kachoris is consumed with fervour on a daily basis. Do not be surprised if they throw in jalebis to balance the spice with the sugar (As if!! The oily savouries are bad enough but the atrociously sweet jalebis are sure to give you a saccharine-numbing headache).

Me, who am not such a breakfast person to begin with, was allowed the special privilege of fresh papaya and kiwis for breakfast. But this of course was after I swore off breakfast after the first kachori-samosa torture. Ankit’s relatives almost fainted at the thought of me skipping the Marwari breakfast and finally gave in to my importunate pleas for ‘something lighter’. I revelled in my fruit platter as they tsk-ed away in pity.

 Maddy burps at the memory

• 3.    Start doing sit-ups, push-ups, crunches, etc. a month in advance. The minute you meet an elderly relative, the first thing you are expected to do immediately is swoop downwards and reach for their feet. Even if you don’t know who they are or how they are related to you, in the Marwari home which is in wedding-preparation every young person is to do the rounds of every elder’s feet. And believe me it is like preparing for a marathon. I am tickled by the visual memory of the M.H where the young ones are banging into each other as they all scuttle and scamper to do the touch-downs.

Maddy winces as she stretches her sore back

• 4.    Practice meditation of some sort from at least 6 months in advance. You will need to muster all your patience to avoid screaming your lungs out while you are tagged along to do million and one errands that are added to the one job for which you were sent out in the first place. Ankit seemed to be the most popular errand boy for the family, and I was his little lamb who followed him everywhere he was sent. It was either that or kachori-samosa time at home. Brrr!!

Ankit and I were sent to pick the cakes for the bachelor party. Allow me to stop for a minute and make a mention of the cakes. Not only were they delish but they captured the true element of the occasion.

Cake number 1: An expectant naked Surd on his bed

Cake number 2: A hesitant (Hint: the Surdy) naked lady on her bed

Anyway, en route to pick up the cakes, we stopped. A million times. To do a million things. X would require fruit baskets to be sent out so we went. Y would want sweets to be collected so we went. Z would want to first be picked up and then would want to run his own errand so we waited. I just napped the whole time in the car to maintain what was left of my sanity.

Maddy screams into the pillow and takes a deep breath

• 5.    A good Marwari is one who can exhibit appropriate social skills. Just mere social etiquette is not enough. You need to observe a Marwari in a social gathering.

(Exhibit A: Ankit)

Observe as he circulates amongst the sea of people to find the person he is actually looking for. He will stop at every 3^rd person for a little ‘meet and greet’.

Inclusive features:  A smile; a joke; teasing Mrs. Facepainted for not taking out the time to visit home; flirting with Ms. Bling to tell her how no one holds a candle to her beauty; ragging Mr. Moneybags as to how this wedding will be nowhere close to that of his daughter.

In-built mechanism- Feet-swooping

Maddy reflects on her own inadequate social skills in disdain

A sincere piece of advice:

The Marwari wedding is not just for anyone. Prepared to be astounded and amazed because it is truly an experience. In all the madness and chaos is the joy that is shared. The M.H. will include everyone in their wedding festivities. They will love you and force-feed you. They will coax you into doing a filmi song-and-dance routine in one of their pre-wedding ceremonies. They will show you a good time as they pump money to create the most lavish wedding that the Marwari community has ever seen. At the end of it all, it is a surreal experience.  So just go with the flow and have a good time.

Maddy says “Give it up for the M.H!!”

P.S: Dedicated to the endearing Banku- a true Marwari spirit