Wedding Season’s Here…Eat Like There’s No Tomorrow!
Wedding season is here folks which means I need to (yet once again) prepare mys
elf for the onslaught of awful gluttony that accompanies it. As luck would have it, I come from a family for whom socializing comes as naturally as breathing. And for someone like me, for whom the metaphor of “a lump of dough waiting to ferment” has been used by her own mother, this sociability comes at a heavy price. To makes things worse, my in-laws are no better. Missing a wedding would be akin to social suicide! Resultantly, I have worked the wedding circuit quite a bit, and in the process have witnessed (like many of you) the very highs and the very lows of Pakistani society when faced with wedding cuisine. I have been painfully accused by many of having a poor sense of observation. In my defense, I would like to say that I simply choose to observe only that which interests (or bothers) me. In fact, I like to believe that I have quite a keen eye for human behavior. And where better to exercise my observational skills than in the very settings where people eat like there’s no tomorrow.
It is rightly said that a nation’s traffic situation is a litmus test of it’s level of discipline. Chaotic traffic reflects a nation in chaos. I would like to suggest a second standard…self control in the presence of delicious wedding cuisine. Sadly, it doesn’t matter if it’s a “high society” or a “village” wedding, the basic behavior, in all intent and purpose, is the same. It is in weddings where people belonging to all walks and strata’s of life descend to the same level of deplorable behavior where the dinner table becomes nothing less than a battleground.
As I see it, preparations for battle begin well before the mercenaries even enter the battleground. All meal preparations for the day are suspended with the sole purpose of building up a hearty appetite before the big event. Tummies grumble in anticipation with every tick of the clock. When the time finally arrives, men & women dressed in all their finery sashay into the hall, smiling and waving at familiar faces. After strategically seating themselves (with a good view of the stage, yet close to the dinner tables), these so-called “well-wishers” proceed to give snide comments & catty remarks to each other about the very hosts who seek their blessings. As time wears on, well-honed pretences start wearing down and primal instincts take over. It begins with furtive glances towards the tables being laid by the waiters. All eyes are on the bride & groom, but all minds are on the food. “Mubarik ho jee!”…when will they serve the food? “Where did you order the jewellery & dress from?”…can’t you see I’m starving here?! Awww don’t they make a sweet couple!”…where’s the goddamn food?? By this time the proverbial mice have danced the Samba a dozen times over. As steaming trays of food are placed into their allocated spaces, guests scrape their chairs inches closer to the tables like vultures circling their prey, waiting for a chance to attack. Please don’t be fooled by the feigned indifference of the oh-so-charming guests. Before long, these very men & women are going to shed their sophisticated skins to reveal the savage cave men (and women) they descended from. The countdown begins. The lids are lifted by terrified waiters who are well aware of the chaos that will ensue any second. And then it finally happens. Dinner is announced. And all hell breaks loose. Guests feverishly charge the tables before word even get around that dinner has been served. The scene is reminiscent of the stampedes in Spanish annual bull runs. Those who reach the tables first are usually the ones to leave them last. Plates and cutlery are snatched up like lightening. Typically the meat items are the first to disappear, fried fish, kebabs and roast chicken being hot favorites. This is closely followed by the remaining items on the table. At this critical juncture a number of tactics are used by those most skilled at their game. These are as follows:
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Heaping enough food to feed an entire army, wastage being the least of one’s concerns
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Refusing to leave the table even after one’s plate looks like an edible model of Mount Everest
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Positioning oneself closest to the most savory items, thereby blocking access for everyone else
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Using one’s large brood as an excuse for raking up every morsel
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Instructing one’s kids to retrieve as many soft drinks as possible
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Throwing chewed bones under the table to make space for new ones
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Taking a new plate for every serving in an attempt to make it look like one has just started
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Staying close to the dessert table while still devouring the main course
And the list goes on. Now if you’re one of those people who (like myself) are m
ajorly ticked off by such despicable behavior, then chances are you’ll be going home on an empty stomach. If you’re lucky you may be able to salvage a rejected skinny chicken neck or a cold, dried out piece of naan. But even that would require consummate skill on your part. You will have to swim through the bodies of people gushing over the tables like a human wave, survive the shoving & pushing once you reach your destination and still come out in one piece with all your bones intact and your clothes stain free.
Dear oh dear! What have we reduced ourselves to? We have given the phrase live to eat a whole new meaning altogether! We talk of national security and sovereignty. My question is: What can become of a people who lose all sense of control when a plate of biryani is placed under their noses? They say the Kerry-Lugar bill offers peanuts (in terms of aid) to Pakistan. Honestly, at the rate we’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if we sold ourselves for 1.5 billion sacks of salted peanuts!
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