The Solitary Reaper

So then that superhero bully brother of mine got married. I mean, good for him. People who want to get saddled should be allowed to. Freely. I’m for things like that.

But what I m NOT for is making something so intensely personal into this ‘come over, gawk at my family and interrogate them for free’. It’s a malevolent antithesis of everything a marriage is supposed to be - in the whole friggin universe.

So for 3 whole days, an army of relatives personally subjected me to an on the house back poking and cross-examination exercise of the worst kind.
What’s shocking is that these people have the time and the energy to swathe themselves in various saris and muscle their way across town for 3 bloody days – for what? To turn up and comment on why I should get knocked up right away and present myself with the token baby in tow for their viewing pleasure next time…and put on more weight while I’m at it. Killing 2 birds with one stone, see?

They chuckle, poke and ask me to recognize them at command.
Oh my god.

The whole thing left me foaming at the mouth, wanting to subject frail creatures to pain and express rage in short bursts of incoherent speech – for days. My faith in humanity would have packed up and left for good if it weren’t for this one beautiful moment of unqualified redemption.

I was at my weakest on the third day of this epic ‘coming together of man and woman’ … and among the assorted ghastlies that presented itself in a dizzying array to my dimmed consciousness – this one stood like a sharp wet slap of reality. A completely out of place Accordion player was belting out an incongruous rendition of The Blue Danube, while all around the fury of a south Indian wedding raged on at full power- a mass of fast talking aunties caught up vigorously. Small children, high on sugar, ran round and round, screaming at the top of their lungs. The bride’s friends giggled sharply and continuously.

What on earth was this guy doing here? In the middle of this merciless battleground, in a tux, playing a friggn accordion for cryin out loud? Will somebody please step up and explain?

Before another second passed, a few spare aunties bore down upon me and poked my nephew who screamed loudly and started banging his head against my shoulder in protest and almost by cue a wizened old man jovially asked me to recognize him and a small child repeatedly asked me for food.

Tears of rage welled, obscenities welled, impotent ire welled… I’d have thrown myself on the ground and cried in long bitter sobs and then died instantly if it wasn’t for that accordion player.

A sense of calm descended amidst the chaos as I saw him … in the background…playing away like his ‘song could have no ending’, alone and oblivious, while the wedding raged in deep red and furious all around him.

‘O listen! For the Vale profound, Is overflowing with the sound’.

God bless him, whoever he was.