My sister applied Kohl to my eyes while I blinked several times and tried to scratch the inaccessible parts of my body. This was my sister’s attempt to make my tired and ugly face look slightly presentable for my brother’s wedding. With only a few smudges around my dark circles and eyelids she accomplished the task. She then took a good look at me and was convinced that Kohl pencil was not a magic wand. Not only was it a waste of natural resources but also the world looked slightly heavy and gloomy through my newly kholed eyes.
At the wedding I strutted around in a pair of cool and very uncomfortable heels. I greeted people and fielded their questions around “why I was not married while my younger siblings were all getting married.”
I discussed animatedly about how India’s contribution to global warming could be halved if we avoided lavish weddings and if possible weddings themselves. The amount of plastic used in the form of spoons, forks, cups, plates, and crap like that and as if that were not enough, wastage of food and water, would easily kill a few weak hearted environmentalists.
And my mother keeps saying: “I know you will go to Germany or someplace like that and get married to a German or someone like that. I know you will come back and do Satyanarayana pooja with me.” I don’t have a problem with Satyanarayana pooja in itself, for it can be accomplished with a few coconuts, mango leaves and bananas. While the priest goes on a story telling spree, the attendees are either busy falling asleep or eagerly waiting for the priest to finish so they can eat prasadam. It’s the wedding and the German husband or someone like that I’m supposed to find, I have trouble with. Some dreams some people foster I tell you.
While I was in the middle of all this, my best friend rushed to me as if to declare a national emergency. She revealed to me that, while I was excitedly talking to people about the noble cause I was after, I rubbed my eyes and smeared the Kohl all over my face. And a national emergency did unfold in my personal life. I ran into the changing room like a rat chased by a raptor. In the background I could hear my mother calling me for some help and perhaps thinking “what a useless girl I have for a daughter.” Nonetheless, she learnt to move on in life. Back in the changing room, as advised by my friend I slapped a lot of moisturizer on my face and wiped the kohl with a coarse tissue and washed my face with water. Again I slapped a lot of moisturizer, wiped and washed my face. I did this until I ran out of moisturizer. After this arduous exercise my dark circles became darker and the stubborn kohl stayed put, all over my face that is.
I came out of the changing room distraught and exhausted like an defeathered broiler chicken and my good-looking best friend standing next to me worsened it. While I was trying to cope with the trauma my sisters heartily announced that the wedding was over and it was time for lunch.
And that’s how I missed my brother’s wedding!