Tag Archives: Facebook

Singlehood to Doublehood: Indian Wedding outside India (Part 2 of 2)

It’s somebody else’s wedding (thank god). You breathe a sigh of relief and seat yourself in an inconspicuous corner, hoping to spend the three days of wedding celebrations in oblivion. But deep in your heart you know it’s next to impossible, since you are in your mid twenties and- horror of horrors- SINGLE. Somewhere your mother is conspiring with your aunt to find you a “nice boy”.

Unfortunately for you and other South Asian single women and men, weddings are seen to be ripe opportunistic sites to hook up one’s single sons and daughters. How typically Bollywood.

Imagine this: Boy and girl fall in love over the span of three days where he courts her through sangeet (he sings to her, of course), wedding (eyes meet over the sacred fire and play teasing games) and reception (where they end up dancing together and- in an ideal world- exchanging facebook contacts).

In the real world, aunties and uncles hope to latch onto the next eligible (and hopefully, available) bachelor for their daughter/niece/friend’s daughter/friend’s sister’s cousin’s daughter in India (the combinations are countless).

As it happened to my friend’s cousin, who had come over from New Jersey with his family to attend the wedding.

The aunties and uncles: “Are you single?” (I swear they said this in a chorus)

The single cousin: “Yes, I am happily single and intend to remain this way for as long as possible.”

Polite laughter.

The aunties and uncles: “But why? You should not think like that!”

Embarrassed nervous laughter from single cousin.

Personally, I am happy enjoying the eye-candy. So when the bride’s mother asked me if I was going to be next, I smiled carefully and said, “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Photograph: Copyright Sanchari Sur

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The “Delete” Revolution

Picture this:

I woke up with a heartache this morning. It was a leftover residue from last night when things ended with him. I got out of bed, switched on my laptop and went through all of his memories. And, just pressed “delete”. I attacked my phone next. Delete, delete, delete. I sighed, with a lighter heart, and went to brush my teeth.

And, how simple was that? Apparently, getting over a break-up is easy now. Just one simple ‘delete’ can change your life. But why only break-ups? Think of all those unpleasant jerks (and jerkettes?) you come across on a daily basis. That member of the opposite sex who gets off on sending cryptic text messages that are meant to create distance without any clear explanations:

It’s not you. It’s me. I need my space… blah blah blah.

Or, those annoying creepettes (Yes, I made up that word. How about it?) who send you a million messages a day in a desperate (and might I add, futile?) attempt to get your attention:

10 am: Hey sweetie, saw this really cute dress at HnM, and thought of you 🙂

10:30 am: So, was wondering if you are up for that show next week?

10:45 am: Hey, are you MIA on me now?

11:03 am: Wow, you must be really busy! (Umm… no shit?!)

Whoever invented this wonderful concept was a true genius. (According to google, it’s a guy called David Bradley, who invented it along with Ctrl and Alt). All that junk that makes you miserable will be gladly received by your virtual trash can. All you have got to do is press ‘delete’.

And now, with most relationships happening on Facebook, you can take this one step further.

Delete. And, block.

YAY for technology.

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To be or not to be… a writer.

I did not ever think of being a writer.  Writing began as a play with words where I rhymed to make little, silly poems (When Harsha died/Varsha cried…) that delighted my parents and teachers alike. They discussed my writing skills, and subsequently, my great future, at parent-teacher meetings while I watched on with a shy smile. As a precocious little girl, I began to believe that I was destined to become a writer. My belief in my abilities as a writer was as unshakeable as Arjun’s faith in the victory of the Pandavas.

Was. Now, I am not so sure anymore. I am not old enough to mourn my lost years, but young enough to realize that I have words in me that are screaming to be let out. And, there’s time.

In the summer of 2008, I attended a book reading by Salman Rushdie, right here in Toronto. He was here to promote his book, The Enchantress of Florence. The book was a complete disaster, and I still fail to understand how it managed to reach the Booker long list that year.  However, this is neither about the book, nor about Rushdie. It is, rather, about what he said. “Don’t write, if you have nothing to say” or, something along those lines. He believed that if a person (a writer) cannot be motivated enough to write, then he/she shouldn’t even bother. Because there is already so much to read out in this wide, wide world! Now, in retrospect, I agree. What is the point of my desire to be a writer, if I cannot sit still to pen my words down? That I am distracted by facebook and twitter every few minutes?! Blasphemy, according to real writers!

I want to be a real writer. I believe I have several books in me just waiting to be written. Waiting… for me to decide to be.

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