So, you finally did it! Spent a quarter of your life mugging up those 2-kgs-apiece books to get yourself shot in that hallowed mortarboard (the mug-shot now proudly suspended on your living room wall) , managed to land up in a cushy job, and actually came out with flying colours from the nerve-wrecking marriage market with quite a ‘deal’. Then, braved the agonizing wedding ceremonies lasting whole three days too. And if someone was to go by what you are really itching to do at this point in time, it would be lead to an utterly horrendous conclusion that the whole extravaganza was eventually to get you laid! Just imagine, five hundred people making merry at the thousand-bucks-a-plate dinner you threw in the French gardens to announce it too, totally at your cost. You must be crazy! The world must be crazy too!
You are almost twiddling your thumbs to wait for all of them to vanish and be with your lady love/lady arranged. I know, I know – at this moment, it can well pass for the only reason for your existence. You will be officially left alone, just the two of you to ‘consummate’ (I love that word) your marriage, (to play bang-bang in a luxury resort room – if it were to be put a little crudely). And all that when you have never even had a proper first kiss with someone! Who ever said, you have to die to be in heaven? Don’t you feel like Alice in wonderland already, like a hungry child who has been let into a castle of chocolate? (Gen Y can excuse themselves from this page. I am talking about my generation here, please. We were supposed to be virgins at the time of our wedding. See, I don’t even mind you cocking a snook at me right now. I agree ‘twas weird).
So, here we come Bahamas, Switzerland, Mauritius, Goa and Shimla. We are ready to paint the town red. Oh my! I go weak in my knees just imagining the candle light dinners, beach walks holding hands, scuba diving in blue lagoons, bon fires with mouth-watering Arabian belly dancers around, cuddling up in the ropeway trolley atop the icy mountains, zipping through in a crimson convertible amidst the lush green pastures (yeah with herds of snow-white sheep grazing in them too), lying semi-clad (or unclad wishfully) on a beach on a moonlit night with a whole crate of beer bottles at your disposal. And of course, the best part, to just be there under that gauzy linen on the hotel bed with your partner in crime and just ‘do it’, all night, all day long! Crushed roses, stained satin sheets, jingling red bangles, warm husky whispers, feverish moans, melting bodies and unbridled steamy passion - Honeymoons – aren’t they the most beautiful phenomenon man ever treated himself with?
But, hey! Hold on for a sec. Isn’t this like too good to be true, too rosy to even exist? Damn right, it is. Well if you had an arranged marriage (like most of the lesser mortals) then you just threw the dice in the air expecting it to land up showing a perfect six! Chances of that happening – one in six. You get the drift? Ok, let me illustrate.
Second day into honeymoon, poor you are walking hand in hand on the beach with wind in your hair (if you have any left) and crimson waves kissing your feet, trying to feel that perfect walk-into-the-sunset moment and you suddenly hear “Honey, what have you thought of buying for my dad/mom?”. And as the days/weeks/months/years go by you will realize that you will never EVER want to walk into the sunset with her. Evenings, for her, are synonymous with shopping! Did someone say, love is all you need? He is rightly buried now, at some dilapidated graveyard.
And do you even want to get me started on the virginity fixation. Imagine a guy expecting to marry Nutan and in a flash realizes he married Helen instead. How would he know? Oh he would, in a second!
And this is even worse. You just can’t get it going the first few nights. Guys, you know what I mean, don’t you? Gosh! That looked so easy in the movies you saw in your hostel days, so natural, so totally for granted. You probably couldn’t see the tiny disclaimer at the bottom of the screen “These ‘stunts’ are performed by experts and should not be tried at home”. At that moment it does feel like a ‘stiff’ stunt you just don’t have the ‘strength’ to carry off.
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