Spare us the horror

Maybe a tricky moniker or a misnomer, the video is called 'marriage movie' these days.

What could be worse than the assault of having to listen to the graphic description of the wedding of the son/daughter of your host while being invited as their guest? Well, it is the visual assault of having to sit through the entire wedding video, with your over-enthusiastic host dishing out blow-by-blow details of every minute thing connected with the mega event.

Maybe a tricky moniker or a misnomer, the video is called the ‘marriage movie’ these days. Now, as the video begins, you have your host literally reclining against you, as s/he embarks on the explanation. “Hey look! This is my paternal cousin’s sister-in-law’s mother-in-law’s brother’s nephew’s daughter. And that is….” You try to deflect the attention of your host by talking something extraneous. But no! Your host is downright obdurate, not the one to get daunted or distracted and remaining deadly focused on the drilling session.

“Just see those flowers decking up the wedding hall? Exotic variety escalating the opulence and grandeur quotient, right?” Then you get to hear vivid details of the history of each flower. You are tempted to tell you aren’t, at any cost, thinking of a career option in floral marketing, not even in duress!

“Just cast your eyes on those shimmering saris. Do you know which place merchandises these magnificent beauties?” You wish to say that seldom have you been a sucker for those supposedly lovely saris. Instead, you flash a faux smile, wishing the video could be fast-forwarded a bit. But no such luck.

Like a timorous trapped mouse, you fidget, but your host is apparently oblivious. You become philosophical; mulling over these ‘traumas’ as the ‘downstream effects’ of your last birth’s misdeeds. Suddenly, you are jolted from your reverie when your host squeals, “Isn’t my daughter looking like an angel in her enchanting wedding attire?” At this point, you see your host sending invisible air-borne kisses flying at the video display. How you wish you could candidly say that the bride rather looks like a walking and talking Christmas tree!

Your host continues, “Here it is. The sumptuous spread of scrumptious delicacies. A veritable gourmet’s fare.” The exotic-sounding names transport you to the studio sets of Master Chef, a popular television show. Then you hear the host eulogising the entrepreneurial skills of the event manger in creating the exquisite ambience — almost inspiring you to enrol for an event management course. 

By the end of it, you look like a recuperating patient, convalescing from a long illness. Helpless, you look at the host imploringly to free you from the horror of the marathon ordeal. Lo!

An unexpected lethal bombshell is dropped on the unsuspecting you.
“Hey! Are you a game to watch my nephew’s wedding album…?”

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