The Big Fat Indian Wedding Plate

By Shailja Singh

I lifted my silk saree slightly to protect it from the grass in the wet lawn. Entering the venue of the wedding reception, I looked around. It was just 8.30 pm but a huge crowd had already gathered. Looking for the host I entered the colourful canopy decorated beautifully with marigold. Congratulating the bride’s mother I shoved a golden envelope in her hand. Finding a red chair I made myself comfortable on it.

Observing people has always been my passion. Their clothes, body language and mannerisms speak volumes about the person they are. It was a chilly January night but Indian women don’t feel cold during the wedding season! Do they? Wrapping myself tightly with my burgundy shawl I observed all kinds of fancy blouses and jewellery .And of course layers of makeup! It was enough to make oneself feel nauseated. Sorry Ekta Kapoor!

Just then someone announced that dinner was ready and we could proceed towards the buffet tables. Believe me, all hell broke loose! Suddenly the entire area looked like a refugee camp which the government had located and had been kind enough to send some food to the starving people. Now no one cared for anything. There were ladies who were till now boasting about their children’ s achievements, planning their next kitty venue, discussing a new dish they had learnt from You Tube, flaunting a new brand of makeup that was ordered online; the men who spoke about their new projects, discussed some brand of wine available in town, cursing their bosses, and of course some trying to make business connections- everything came to a halt! People rushed towards the buffet tables. Everyone wanted to grab a plate. Some seized more than one –for their family members who could not come ahead in the crowd and were pushed back by nudging elbows.

Time for the big fat Indian wedding plate! People started filling their plates with mountains of food. Dishes of different colours, textures, flavours and countries jostled for space. The paneer was under the pulao, the dum aloo gasped for breath under the korma, the yellow dal flirted with the moong daal ka halwa, the mix veg was in the arms of the raita, the salad was under a heap of chowmein, the fruit cream tried to kiss the kofta and the tawa sabzi seeked attention from the kadi !

People ate less and wasted more. The bins were soon filled with leftover food; a shameless example of greed and gluttony! A planet where 795 million people do not have two square meals a day, this was horrendous!

My sweet tooth took me to the dessert corner. While I was being helped by the waiter I felt something hot on my back .A lady had just spilled some daal on me, burning me slightly and ruining the beautiful saree which was gifted by my sister. I turned back in anger to see her giving me an embarrassed look. The very next moment she blurted,” Can you pass me a gulaab jamun?” I looked at her plate and with equal shamelessness asked, “Where will you keep it, there is no space for it?” She immediately picked up her ‘katori’ of raita and poured it over the pooris and said, “Here!”

I picked up my jaw and squeezed my way out of the crowd.

By Shailja Singh