Jalool Jalool Aana: A Dummy's Guide to a Wedding Invite

The design institutes of the country produce designers by the dozen, ready to unfurl their creativity in the form of printed machhar daani's being passed off as netted saari's on slender ladies, who walk the ramp with leg movements that speak of a request to wear pants over an unwashed patootie after a bodily waste removal routine. And there are jewellery designers who make neck pieces so huge and triangular that they could be used to cover an African tribal's crotch. You know it's friggin' huge if it can cover an African's if-you-know-what-I-mean. Then there are web designers and graphic designers, which are job profiles requiring you to do everything you did while trying to attract college freshmen to join your pseudo cool society in college using stock images and crappy photoshop skills. With various specialization areas to study design in, still none to bring about a change in the way Indians design wedding invitations, it's about time that a course in Indian Wedding Card Designing is introduced and the following cliches put to an end.

Ganesh Ji

Ganesh ji is gracious enough to bless every newly-wed so that there are no hindrances in the wedding ceremonies. He makes sure that your wedding goes smoothly even though as per popular belief, and much to his relief, he never got married himself. So he's not someone to get jealous and be like: “Haan bey, vats! Meri shaadi toh huyi nahi, sab ki shaadiyon pe muft ke aashirwaad battwa lo!” Despite being aware of his love for laddoos, people don't go ape shit about “yeh shaadi ka laddoo hai; jo khaaye woh pachhtaaye, jo na khaaye woh pachhtaaye” around him, 'cuz he's all like: “Lele, bro, jitne laddoo lene hain mujhse; moti choor, besan, boondi. Lekin aage se yeh ghatiya line maari na, toh kabhi laddoo khaane ke laayak nahi chhodunga” *whips trunk*

Being the darling that he is, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you decide to skip his photo from your wedding card for once. After all, he's not one of your family aunties who would go around telling the guests about kitna ghatiya arrangement karaaya hai only because you decide not to print his photo on the invitation. There was a time when he used to be happy about being cut out from the invite by a school kid for some Hindi notebook or project which required a Ganpati photo. These days, kids just Google the most badass of all images of him from the internet and the wedding invitation goes to raddii, which is definitely not a place like Goa that would leave our deity beaming and in the mood to click selfies in front of semi clad Germans on the beach.

Also, all that the guests care about is the food, and not whether you've typed a Vakratund Mahakay shlok on the invite. No suryakoti samaprabha, dude.

The Sehrabandi and Reception of Baraat

One, there's no point putting a time for Sehrabandi on the card. It is not one of the bandi's people come to check out at a wedding. Two, if you were to print your wedding invite on a stamp paper, sign it and get it witnessed by two random guys standing outside the court, your timings for departure or reception of baraat would amount to misrepresentation. But only because you thought printing it on a thousand rupees stamp paper would not make the invite look rich enough, it does not mean that you have the liberty to go about lying so blatantly.

It'll be honest to just mention the timing when dinner is scheduled to open for the ladki wale, who don't give a shit about when the baraat will come. They just want to eat, hand over the sagan ka lifaafa and leave because kahaan duur jaake farm book kara hai; kal savere office bhi jaana hai, yaar.

Taaron ki Chhaon Mein

I don't know about taare, bro, but all that one can see at frikkin' four-thirty in the morning after fantasizing about every lehnga choli wali for over one twenty hours is, “Bhains ki aankh, neend kharaab kar di, bc! Khatam karo, saale, aur sone do.” The others who live on Revital and somehow manage to stay up till that early in the morning just care about whether the dulhan would cry or not. Because potential for family gossip and all as aaj kal ke bachon ka kuchh pata nahi, bhai; bidaai ke samay khushi chhupaaye nahi chhupti!

Also, who the frig saw taare in Delhi in over a century? A more apt expression for the time of bidaai would be: Subah paani ki motor chalaane ke time pe. Because I don't think anything else happens at goddamn four-thirty in the morning.

Technically too, the expression loosely translates to “The Shade of the Stars”. Isse achha “The Fault in Our Stars” likh lete; zyada romantic lagta. Anyway, in a few months, there's no way one will be left believing that his stars were perfect to have gotten him married to such a biaaatch in life.

The Jalool

You have no idea about how embarrassed the groom's nephew will be if he ever manages to lay his hands on his mama ki shaadi ka card after a few years. Because one, he does not have a goddamn lisp; and two, his Modern School education does not teach him to say ridiculous shit like, “mele mamu ki shaadi mein jalool jalool aana.” This is not just misrepresentation of facts, but offensive, hurtful and prejudicial to the sexual interests of the nephew.

Trust me, make him sit on the maami's lap as much as you want on the day of the engagement, but he does not give so much as a shit about his mama's wedding.

RSVP

Immediate Family Surname

Maternal Family Surname

Person you don't know how your grandparents are related to Surname

Who the Frig is this Surname

Image Source: myshaadi.in

Rajouri Thumakda: The California Boulevard

I've heard about how as a Sardarji, there are some very clear career choices you can make. A transportation business, auto parts or furniture trade and opening a restaurant in Rajouri Garden are options that top the charts. I can't speak much about the first and second types of businesses, but I can completely vouch for the brilliance with which a Sardarji gentleman would run a restaurant after my recent trip to The California Boulevard in Rajouri Garden.

Located in the Rajouri Garden market, not very far from the Bikanerwala, I stepped inside this food palace, not having any idea about the cuisine they had to offer. Six tiles from the Hollywood Walk of Fame and a flight of stairs later, I was welcomed into a hall with wonderful decor, complete with a swanky red Harley Davidson, wrought iron lamp posts and grayscale photographs of Hollywood actors adorning the walls. I must confess though, that I was surprised to find out that despite being managed by a Punjabi paaji, none of the pictures had his family members photoshopped with the celebs, the bike wasn't a Bullt and the music did not sound like Botalaan Sharab Diyan Akhaan Teriyan. So, even though I feel like giving it a four out of five jalebis for the ambience, I give it one more and make it a full five only because our paaji must've had to struggle through curbing his urge to let his Punjabiness show, and stick to the theme to the tee!

Having reached a little late for the dinner with my friends, I was seated by the waiting staff with oodles of male chivalry shown in the chair being pulled, napkin being placed on my lap and a steel bowl being placed in front of me with a little tablet that looked like an Altoid mint. The inner monologue that followed went something like this:

Wow, he pulled the chair for me! So nice! Hehe. Totally not gay for me to think it was a nice gesture.

Must pick up the mint tablet and pop it. What if I get lucky tonight?... Um, no wait… West Delhi, bro. Chill yo’ pants, yo!... But, I’m actually from West Delhi too. Or is Rajinder Nagar Central Delhi?... It’s totally Central Delhi, man!

Must. Eat. This. Mint!

No, why is this waiter pouring water over it? What in Jazzy B’s Bapuji’s effing name are you doing, you idiot?!!

WTF! The mint is growing in size! It looks like a frikkin’ cylinder now!... Ooooh, magic! *happy face*

Ok, why is this guy leaving this magic shit in front of me? And WTF am I supposed to do with this now!

Oh, I think this looks like paneer. Um, or it actually looks like a marshmallow! Is this how they make marshmallows? How in frig did I not know that this is how they make marshmallows!

Should I eat this using my fork or just pick it up with my fingers? This looks like a fancy place. Must totally pick it up using the fork!... No, wait! What if I’m not supposed to eat this?

Should I ask the guy sitting next to me about what he did with it when they did this shit in front of him? Damn, man! I should’ve totally come on time and seen how all the other people on the table reacted to this shit. Serves me right! Frikkin’ coming to events late, acting like I’m totally a busy Chartered Accountant and all that jazz. Paer pe kulhaadi, yo!

Why do I frikkin’ not go to fancy schmancy places to eat so that I know how this stuff works! Bhains ki aankh, aage se nahi jaana bloody Pind Balluchi.

Now, I don’t know if I had involuntarily spoken any of that aloud or the serving staff was used to this, that I had someone from the staff run up to me and say: Sir, would you like to wipe your hands? *gently points to the marshmallow shit* And, then it struck me! I picked up the thing and it turned out to be a frikkin’ wet wipe shaped like a cylindrical piece of paneer! The server totally saved me some face and I realized he was the same guy who had pulled the chair for me. What service! *starry eyes* (And, um, just for the record; that is totally not gay!)

The chef walked up to us in slo-mo, and looked a lot like Rocket Singh! The fact that the chef was also a Sardarji made the happy and gay quotient rise higher, because not just is he good looking but he is such a good listener! So, he completely understood that I am a virgin mojito i.e. vegetarian and non-alcoholic, and suggested some really cool things on the menu for me to try out. I have always sworn by the mouthgasmic taste of the dahi-bhalla chaat at Aggarwal Sweets in Rajinder Nagar (the quality of which has gone down in the recent past), but the Dilli Ki Chaat at The California Boulevard is wayyyyyy out of the former’s league. So much so that if Aggarwal’s Chaat was to be called Ranveer Singh, the one at California is Chitrangdha and a half! It’s a chaat made on a papri of paalak, crisp and texturous, which will not just make you instantly crush over it for being so pretty and non-messy, but also give you the oooh aaaah’s in your mouth almost as soon as you touch the tip of your tongue to it.

My choice of drinks were the Californian Punch and the Thai Refresher; the latter of which is a blend of kaffir lime (which sounds kind of blasphemous), galangal (which I read as gangajal), mint sprigs, soda and watermelon chunks. I remember going all: “OMG, this gives the throat such a hit. I bet this is exactly what vodka tastes like! I frikkin’ bet! Oh, I feel so drunk already! What is this elixir, oh mighty lord, our father in heaven”; hearing which my friend took a sip from my glass and shook his head in disbelief. It’s really good apart from the fact that they put a lot of crushed ice in your glass, so you must totally tell them not to give it to you with ice in the first place, and then ask for it later like a badass! Or maybe that’s just being road-chhaap because they won’t make the drink without crushed ice. But they should totally mention crushed ice along with the ten things they listed as ingredients on the menu. Honesty be the best policy, yo!

The menu is not just limited to Indian cuisine (because haha, where else is California, really?), but boasts of Afghani, Mexican, European, Chinese, Thai and Japanese as well. Despite taking the risk of putting food from various cultures of the world on the menu, the chef did complete justice to the authentic taste in every item on the list; or so I like to believe because everywhay I go, I eat the dal makhni, yo! But, the Tandoori Badami Broccoli, the Paneer Tikka, the Pizza TCB, the Cottage Cheese Steak, the Thai Green Curry and the Gazzak Kulfi were so beautifully made that I could literally kiss the chef’s fingers and lick the masala off them. (So not gay! Not at all!)

All in all, I’d give the place a four out of five jalebis because it’ll make me look like I am some real food critic who never gives a perfect score of five. But, on second thoughts, phuck this shit! I give it a complete five because I’ll use this review to get myself a big discount from the owner next time, considering the number of times I’ll be going there for dinner now! Join me? I’ll make you pay for the non-discounted portion :)

*******

You can check out a video of the cool Magic Tablet Napkins here. Ooooh, so fancayyy!

Also, check out the restaurant's Zomato Page here, because you're just too lazy to frikkin' go on Zomato and look it up yourself.