OF WARZONES AND PEACEKEEPERS
he strong whiff of cashews being
T
roasted in ghee fills the entrance of the
marriage hall. My olfactory senses along
with my line of sight are involved in a
mission to figure out the way towards
the dining hall. Just when all this
overload of tummy-happy goodness
settles down, I dash my way into the
new stall entrants: The ice-cream and
gulab jamun stalls!
Okay, I sound like a kid hopping on
sugar, but trust me, the sole reason I go
to weddings, is for the soul food.
Being an attendee at most of the
TamBrahm weddings (* insert some
disclaimer regarding the ethnicity of the
scenario*), apart from the all inviting
beats of the melam, the glittering of a
hundred Kanjeevaram sarees,which
would put even the sun to shame, aroma
of the filter kaapi pervading the air, loud
snorts of uncles discussing Trump,
“YouYesYay” and retirement plans, the
food plays an integral role in keeping
the whole act of marriage up and
running.
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The announcement for food being
served will evoke more response from
the crowd, than the General elections of
the country. From thinking whether I
would be looked down for my
gluttony, to fretting that my favourite
dishes might run out owing to the huge
demand, my mind has already started to
churn and the salivary tract is about to
expose me to shame. Brushing aside all
this, I decently settle down at the next
round (problem solved).
Our cutlery of the day is nothing but a
humble banana leaf, to quote one SA
Aravind, it is an actual “Itna bada
meetha paan” moment.
The wiping of the leaf has evolved from
manually sprinkling water on it, to
having plastic bottles with punctures on
the cap to do the same; a nostalgic recap
back to 3rd grade.
Whilst I diligently wipe off the water
neatly, the slices of banana dunked in
sugar makes their first appearance, and
are gobbled down even before the
server moves to the next leaf.