Around the marriage in 2 days...
Aage btayi sabhi batein purntah satya hai and bear 100% resemblance to people living and dead (if any).
It is Friday evening and you eventually found out you are heading to a wedding in some distant village in Rajasthan. You hurry up to the last bus running towards Kota and catch the handle as if it was Kajol’s hand in DDLJ. You are in hope to find your cousins(like those who want a treat and gift every time you phone them for any reason) waiting for you so that you may find some company at the marriage, but all you find out is the aunt waiting for you and some old grumpy grampas.
You have no choice but to adjust in a taxi with 2 people in the front seat and a driver who loves spitting his Vimal every nook and corner, at the end of every street, every bus stop, every dhaba and at the end of each dialogue he speaks to you with spits on your hand as if left for you to savour the aroma.
Either you are bulky or the vehicle is old,but all you have now is a punctured vehicle, blocked train paths and some unknown old relatives who show up only when you are in a hurry to reach somewhere..
So, in the mid of the night, not able to sleep due to the warm weather and sucking ants, you are dumped up in a taxi at 2am and you reach your destination at 8am, with your face dripping saliva and sandy hair as if you came out of some zombie movie at the climax scene.
You need to get a bath, but, bathroom ke haalaat dekh ke you are confused ki nahane ke baad halat sudhregi ya you may start smelling like the bathroom itself. (Thank God, you emptied your belly at your home itself, or ... you never know,,,,where is the nearest bush...and your lota!!!)
Eventually, you dress up, and it is time to have a loaded breakfast, (you can’t ignore kachoris being here, and you yourself love to have them, but just don’t know when to stop, and you may end up finding yourself burping) and 3 teas. (Actually, every uncle and aunt who just got a truckful of load of work the instant they sat to drink their tea, they find you...”aaah,,,mil gya,,isi ko pakdo...”,,beta,, ye chai peele, and you cant even think of wasting a drop of water, let alone tea.)
Now, there are these functions when you run around the streets, the BAAJE wale, behind you, breaking your eardrums, and every known relative wants you to join him or her in your as usual shaadi wala dance. The temperature is 48 C, the streets are leaking sewers, and someone has probably inserted estrogen into each and every aunt you know (God,,,who gives them that energy to dance ,dance and dance, with the ghoonghat on and ,,,,3 kilo of jewellery) and you have no choice except unke upar paise lutaane ke.
The sun is above you, you are sweating as if you were born in sahara desert and your parents decided to leave you there in a boarding school and take you back only when you have done something big (establishing a Microsoft empire for example).
Water Water everywhere, not a drop to drink,
sweat, sweat everywhere, i can fill your society water to the brink.....
(no offences Mr.Colerigde)
But not to worry, there are cool campers there, thank god..... I drank 187 glasses of water in one day, (yess,,, i did count, i know i am crazy),, and you still feel that water conservation needs to be promoted in India. (Even after 5 baths a day, you turn out to be the same sweating person, in addition to a pair of smelling undergarms, and everyone around you is in need of the single deo spray that you brought while being scolded by your dad for being so frivolous).
You enter the food stalls and the poories are being given in black and the only way to feed yourself is to slip in one or two poories from each didi and aunt around you while she is busy steadying her 15 kilo saree and lehnga. But its daytime, and you have started burping (man, you should know when to stop, but alas....).
Okay,,,lets fast forward...its the evening, you dress up for the final reception, and while searching for the bathroom, LUCKILY you bump up into a room where the girls are dressing, and..sharm ke mare you just turn around with some murmuring to yourself..as if you were searching for someone or something,,,but the girls are shouting,,,bachao,,hurr,,,uuuiiiimaaaa,,,,help,,,haaai raam....Just kidding..UNLUCKILY, they are wearing much more than you wished they were..Loads of clothes (i think it would be appropriate to measure it in metric tons),and some quintals of make up..eyeliners and mascara...
The baraat is to arrive and you are thinking how many friends groom has that they start dancing to every useless tune that the band waala is playing (neighbours and eve teasers are invited too)...
But eventually a in-famous drunkard of the town bumps up into the procession, and he is trying to forget every mother and sister he remembers,(this reminds me,,,arey bhaai ,,,aur bhi to relations hote hai..why emphasise so much only on two.. J),,,but you get him out of the way successfully, before he started to recognise mother sister unification.(One more thing...why do the guys these days, wear their jeans so low, as if jockey or playboy is paying them handsomely for advertising)
Anyway, you reach the reception, the food is good, but actually you are very famous as your food junkie image, and so your dear cousin challenges you to a gulab jamun challenge..and you end up eating 8 round ones in a row...and another cousin challenges you to a coffee challenge,,and you end up gulping down 6 cups in a row...Your prestige and your belly..both have been inflated considerably...The ice cream has arrived, and all of you get one,,but kya Karen,,ek se baat to banti nhi..You steal another and enjoy...at the end you are one of the few relatives left,, and the ice cream shall not be let melting. So you have to have atleast five..(your cousins succumb to the mighty talent of yours of pushing anything down your throat, and now you are left burping and farting alone,,with a deep acidity burning in you like HF on glass...MUSIBAT MEIN DUNIYA SAAATH CHOD HI DETI HAI..and the only thing you know that can help you,,,is way ahead at home or the marriage hall,,,or at last the...bushes...)
The photo session is going on and you keep staring the stage for some wardrobe malfunction...but none happens... L and personally you are fed up of all the gals staring at you when you are on stage,,(Is my belly bulging, is my skin oily, is my shirt stucking out, oh dr..oh dr...!!!!-boys are paranoid too...trust me...)..
Its the Dj,,,and your not so pretty but make up ridden relatives are pulling you up to the floor.but you resist,,,sharm ati hai na...main kaise??itne logon ke saamne??? Nhi nhi....thaka hua hun...rehne do....BUT they insist..again and again..and something inside you ,,,speaks,,,get up,,go ahead,,it is your time,..... you head for the stage..and just around the corner,,you look around,,,and slip away to the water stall J...
But drama jada der to chalta nai hai , ab jana to padega hi...so you get up and on the floor you start feeling the rock star coming out of you,,and you device your new moves,,,and every one around you is clapping,,you are getting high..high..more,,,more,,more....oh...just don’t stop...keep going...oh..keep going..(abe dance ke liye bol rhe hain...naughty,don’t run off somewhere else)..
But when you will see the wedding video, you will be regretting your decision to invent your new dance moves..
Anyway, you reach the hall, in time before the phere, but you find out,that the muhurat is delayed, you wont be having phere till morning (thanks to the photography obsession of the grooms frnz...they don’t mind dumping the groom and bride outta frame to get the correct funky pose)..
And the oldies are freaking out...what a mismanagement.....whoa...So....
chaar baj gaye,,,,,lekin phere abhi baaki hain...
mere dada hain naraaj,,lekin khaaana peena jaari hain......
Frustrated you decide to return, and it is 4am in the morning...the driver was half asleep,,and now it is your duty to stay awake to give him company,,(while everyone loves snoring cozily in the back)...so your second sleepless night...begins and your uncle is drooping in his nap on your shoulders with too much of saliva....
On the way, you need to have atleast 4 cups of tea with the driver...(main nhi peeta but mere yaar pila dete hain)..
Thank god,,you reached home,,but still there is a bus journey ahead of you and you feel like The Book of Eli....keep walking...anyway...it is over,,phewww,,,you started breathing and now you need to go into your hibernation...
So, what did you earn,3 pimples,sweaty skin, flogging belly, aching limbs, burps and farts,,and nice memories...wedding are still funnn..but you can’t help blaming the groom...why..
MORAL of the story -
Ae khuda, aisa kya galat kiya mene jo hume itna tadapna pada,
Suhagraat to uski thi, saari raat hume jagna pada.................. J
Completely original product by....
Rahul Jain & Rahul Jain company......
(arey bhai please comments to kar hi dena kuch kuch)..
Aage btayi sabhi batein purntah satya hai and bear 100% resemblance to people living and dead (if any).
It is Friday evening and you eventually found out you are heading to a wedding in some distant village in Rajasthan. You hurry up to the last bus running towards Kota and catch the handle as if it was Kajol’s hand in DDLJ. You are in hope to find your cousins(like those who want a treat and gift every time you phone them for any reason) waiting for you so that you may find some company at the marriage, but all you find out is the aunt waiting for you and some old grumpy grampas.
You have no choice but to adjust in a taxi with 2 people in the front seat and a driver who loves spitting his Vimal every nook and corner, at the end of every street, every bus stop, every dhaba and at the end of each dialogue he speaks to you with spits on your hand as if left for you to savour the aroma.
Either you are bulky or the vehicle is old,but all you have now is a punctured vehicle, blocked train paths and some unknown old relatives who show up only when you are in a hurry to reach somewhere..
So, in the mid of the night, not able to sleep due to the warm weather and sucking ants, you are dumped up in a taxi at 2am and you reach your destination at 8am, with your face dripping saliva and sandy hair as if you came out of some zombie movie at the climax scene.
You need to get a bath, but, bathroom ke haalaat dekh ke you are confused ki nahane ke baad halat sudhregi ya you may start smelling like the bathroom itself. (Thank God, you emptied your belly at your home itself, or ... you never know,,,,where is the nearest bush...and your lota!!!)
Eventually, you dress up, and it is time to have a loaded breakfast, (you can’t ignore kachoris being here, and you yourself love to have them, but just don’t know when to stop, and you may end up finding yourself burping) and 3 teas. (Actually, every uncle and aunt who just got a truckful of load of work the instant they sat to drink their tea, they find you...”aaah,,,mil gya,,isi ko pakdo...”,,beta,, ye chai peele, and you cant even think of wasting a drop of water, let alone tea.)
Now, there are these functions when you run around the streets, the BAAJE wale, behind you, breaking your eardrums, and every known relative wants you to join him or her in your as usual shaadi wala dance. The temperature is 48 C, the streets are leaking sewers, and someone has probably inserted estrogen into each and every aunt you know (God,,,who gives them that energy to dance ,dance and dance, with the ghoonghat on and ,,,,3 kilo of jewellery) and you have no choice except unke upar paise lutaane ke.
The sun is above you, you are sweating as if you were born in sahara desert and your parents decided to leave you there in a boarding school and take you back only when you have done something big (establishing a Microsoft empire for example).
Water Water everywhere, not a drop to drink,
sweat, sweat everywhere, i can fill your society water to the brink.....
(no offences Mr.Colerigde)
But not to worry, there are cool campers there, thank god..... I drank 187 glasses of water in one day, (yess,,, i did count, i know i am crazy),, and you still feel that water conservation needs to be promoted in India. (Even after 5 baths a day, you turn out to be the same sweating person, in addition to a pair of smelling undergarms, and everyone around you is in need of the single deo spray that you brought while being scolded by your dad for being so frivolous).
You enter the food stalls and the poories are being given in black and the only way to feed yourself is to slip in one or two poories from each didi and aunt around you while she is busy steadying her 15 kilo saree and lehnga. But its daytime, and you have started burping (man, you should know when to stop, but alas....).
Okay,,,lets fast forward...its the evening, you dress up for the final reception, and while searching for the bathroom, LUCKILY you bump up into a room where the girls are dressing, and..sharm ke mare you just turn around with some murmuring to yourself..as if you were searching for someone or something,,,but the girls are shouting,,,bachao,,hurr,,,uuuiiiimaaaa,,,,help,,,haaai raam....Just kidding..UNLUCKILY, they are wearing much more than you wished they were..Loads of clothes (i think it would be appropriate to measure it in metric tons),and some quintals of make up..eyeliners and mascara...
The baraat is to arrive and you are thinking how many friends groom has that they start dancing to every useless tune that the band waala is playing (neighbours and eve teasers are invited too)...
But eventually a in-famous drunkard of the town bumps up into the procession, and he is trying to forget every mother and sister he remembers,(this reminds me,,,arey bhaai ,,,aur bhi to relations hote hai..why emphasise so much only on two.. J),,,but you get him out of the way successfully, before he started to recognise mother sister unification.(One more thing...why do the guys these days, wear their jeans so low, as if jockey or playboy is paying them handsomely for advertising)
Anyway, you reach the reception, the food is good, but actually you are very famous as your food junkie image, and so your dear cousin challenges you to a gulab jamun challenge..and you end up eating 8 round ones in a row...and another cousin challenges you to a coffee challenge,,and you end up gulping down 6 cups in a row...Your prestige and your belly..both have been inflated considerably...The ice cream has arrived, and all of you get one,,but kya Karen,,ek se baat to banti nhi..You steal another and enjoy...at the end you are one of the few relatives left,, and the ice cream shall not be let melting. So you have to have atleast five..(your cousins succumb to the mighty talent of yours of pushing anything down your throat, and now you are left burping and farting alone,,with a deep acidity burning in you like HF on glass...MUSIBAT MEIN DUNIYA SAAATH CHOD HI DETI HAI..and the only thing you know that can help you,,,is way ahead at home or the marriage hall,,,or at last the...bushes...)
The photo session is going on and you keep staring the stage for some wardrobe malfunction...but none happens... L and personally you are fed up of all the gals staring at you when you are on stage,,(Is my belly bulging, is my skin oily, is my shirt stucking out, oh dr..oh dr...!!!!-boys are paranoid too...trust me...)..
Its the Dj,,,and your not so pretty but make up ridden relatives are pulling you up to the floor.but you resist,,,sharm ati hai na...main kaise??itne logon ke saamne??? Nhi nhi....thaka hua hun...rehne do....BUT they insist..again and again..and something inside you ,,,speaks,,,get up,,go ahead,,it is your time,..... you head for the stage..and just around the corner,,you look around,,,and slip away to the water stall J...
But drama jada der to chalta nai hai , ab jana to padega hi...so you get up and on the floor you start feeling the rock star coming out of you,,and you device your new moves,,,and every one around you is clapping,,you are getting high..high..more,,,more,,more....oh...just don’t stop...keep going...oh..keep going..(abe dance ke liye bol rhe hain...naughty,don’t run off somewhere else)..
But when you will see the wedding video, you will be regretting your decision to invent your new dance moves..
Anyway, you reach the hall, in time before the phere, but you find out,that the muhurat is delayed, you wont be having phere till morning (thanks to the photography obsession of the grooms frnz...they don’t mind dumping the groom and bride outta frame to get the correct funky pose)..
And the oldies are freaking out...what a mismanagement.....whoa...So....
chaar baj gaye,,,,,lekin phere abhi baaki hain...
mere dada hain naraaj,,lekin khaaana peena jaari hain......
Frustrated you decide to return, and it is 4am in the morning...the driver was half asleep,,and now it is your duty to stay awake to give him company,,(while everyone loves snoring cozily in the back)...so your second sleepless night...begins and your uncle is drooping in his nap on your shoulders with too much of saliva....
On the way, you need to have atleast 4 cups of tea with the driver...(main nhi peeta but mere yaar pila dete hain)..
Thank god,,you reached home,,but still there is a bus journey ahead of you and you feel like The Book of Eli....keep walking...anyway...it is over,,phewww,,,you started breathing and now you need to go into your hibernation...
So, what did you earn,3 pimples,sweaty skin, flogging belly, aching limbs, burps and farts,,and nice memories...wedding are still funnn..but you can’t help blaming the groom...why..
MORAL of the story -
Ae khuda, aisa kya galat kiya mene jo hume itna tadapna pada,
Suhagraat to uski thi, saari raat hume jagna pada.................. J
Completely original product by....
Rahul Jain & Rahul Jain company......
(arey bhai please comments to kar hi dena kuch kuch)..
mujhe bharosa h tere upar.........:P
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