The wedding was in full swing. The bride was all smiles, and the bridegroom was all drunk and hardly had sense enough to stand and smile. She did not mind him intoxicated. In fact, That way all the secrets would be out. Not that she did not know everything she had to. It's just that she was never quite sure that that was all the confidential information she needed to have a privy of. So she let him drink and loosen his tongue. So as and when the liquor passed their way, she eyed the waiter, drinks exchanged hands, and the bridegroom was all the more intoxicated.
A similar experiment, or so a certain mother felt, was on at the other end of the venue. Here, the mother reckoned, the intoxication took the form of a woman and the man was in no mood to refuse her inebriation. The man was her son and the mother had no idea he knew this woman.
"I know he knows women. But this one!"
"Well, she seems alright to me," said her relative, laughing, "at least she's talking, not sitting still."
"Oh yes, and her dress is doing a whole lot of talking as well."
"Really?"
"Look at that bloody dress! Look at it."
The relative put down her glass on the table and looked. "It's a nice dress."
"And bloody."
"Oh you mean the colour! Well, that's what's known as a deep royal red."
"Well, I don't see how they can call it royal! It just insists on sitting way above her knees."
"It's just above her knees."
"From where I am sitting, I can see more than just the knees. I can see everything."
"Really now! I doubt that you know. It looks like it wants to show everything but just stops short of doing so."
"Exactly! So it's not quite revealing dear."
"Oh shut up! Look at it! It screams sin."
"I don't see how you can hear that! I can barely hear you in all this din."
"Don't be ridiculous," the mother snapped, it's a whiff of a dress! Look at the way she's strapped it onto her neck."
"Ah, it's a pretty neckline laced with diamonds, isn't it?"
"It's a neckline that draws no line where it has to. It just lets everything plunge out."
"You mean it's a plunging neckline?"
"No, it's a line I can't stand."
"You could never stand plunging necklines."
"But this is worse than that!"
"So you can let the line plunge but not below another borderline?"
"The point is that line and the dress and that woman as well are all in my firing line."
"Look, it's a pretty dress," the relative said, "and anyway, you are not wearing it. She is. So what's your problem?"
"My problem is she's sitting and talking to him."
"Oh the sitting is the problem or the talking?"
She did not answer the question immediately. Instead, she drifted her gaze towards the man, her son, and the woman. The woman knew exactly when to lean in and when to fall gracefully onto the back of her chair and accompany the act with a practised bout of laughter. The man smiled through this performance and appeared to have let his eyes be quite bewitched by her fluttering eyelashes.
"See see how she lures him into her lair!"
"But she's just talking dear! Women talk you know. You are a woman. You talk too!"
"But not with a dress that speaks the same filth that she does."
"I am not quite sure the dress speaks filth dear. And I am quite sure she doesn't do that either. I am sure it's pretty harmless chatter."
"Well, what do you know?" the mother snapped, "you don't even have children."
That, as a matter of fact, was true. And true to its nature, that truth sliced through her like a knife. The relative rose all in shambles and tried to look like one whole piece. But her feet could stand the pain no longer and wobbled as she clutched at her cool. She then picked up her drink and realized she shouldn't have had this conversation in the first place. But she also wanted to incite a little drama and watch it flare into a full blown act.
So, she turned as she walked away and "If you have so much of a problem with her sitting there," she said, "just get up and tell her not to entice him then. Rather tell her you do not approve of her."
"But that son of mine-"
"What about him?"
"He'll tell me to get lost if I do it when he's sitting there."
"Do it when he's not at that table."
"But I cannot tell her upfront, can I?"
"Well, you told me I have no children! You surely can tell her!"
And with that the relative walked off to a table close to the man and the woman.
---
Another 15 minutes later, the man was nudged by a phone call and so, he left the woman alone. The woman smiled, let him walk off into the dark recesses of the venue, and began to scrutinize her neighbours. The table next to her gave company to a family that made it its business to show her how scandalous they were by her attire: The matriarch looked shock but toned that down to a stony look, the patriarch looked carved in stone whenever he bothered to throw a glance at her, and the two daughters just would not stop staring. The table next to that was trying its best to not let the tinytots move it out of the position it had decided to occupy. And just as she let her eyes pounce on Table no. 3, she felt a pair of eyes boring into her back.
She knew those eyes for she had sensed their heat from across the hall. And she was sure they lay in wait for her.
"So you know my son?"
"That's your son?," she asked, her voice akin to the rustle of silk, "He's a fine fellow."
"I know. I am his mother."
"Ah," she said as she let loose a brilliant smile, "sure you know better."
By now the mother had conquered the chair next to her and was all set to launch her next question.
"You work with him?"
"No, I did."
"Ah, okay, and now?"
"Well, not anymore."
"I see. Tell me something: You have no shame to wear that dress?"
"This dress?," the woman asked, smiling all the while, as she twisted her toes to subdue her impatience.
"Yes this dress," the mother repeated, as she let her finger trace the hem of the gown in midair.
"Well, it's a nice dress. I think I like it."
"But it's outrageous. No one told you that?"
"On the contrary, that man - your son - says it's sexy."
"Sexy!" the mother echoed for she knew not what else to substitute there.
'Yes he said it's sexy. And so did a few others."
"He said that? He knows that word!"
The woman threw her shoulders on the backrest and killed a fit of laughter as she said: "Yes, yes, he does."
Clearly the conversation wasn't going well. And this word had led to a spectacular casualty. The mother had no clue how to go on with what she was there for. But being the mother that she was, she just knew she had to spit it out.
So she let her quivering head steady and then looked straight at the woman. "You know our family is highly educated."
"I see."
"We have all married highly educated people."
"Really? That's studious."
"Yes, and we have all married people we know."
"I see."
"We have never married out of the community."
"Really? Why is that?"
"Why is what?"
"Why have you all married within the community?"
"That's because it's the best. That way you get to know everything about the person."
"I see."
"And you know this son of mine? He's been getting offers to go abroad. But he isn't going you know. We even have our family members abroad too. But no, he just doesn't want to go."
"Why?"
"Oh he's not interested - just not interested."
"I see," the woman said, her face coloured with an angry red by now, "I see. But I don't understand why are you telling me all this?"
To this, the mother just smiled and began to plan a retreat.
But the woman was not to be left alone like this. She just had to have her reply.
"Yes maam," she said, loud enough to arrest the mother's movements, "why do you tell all this?"
"Well, you know my son. I mean, you know my son!" the mother said, as she desperately caught hold of words to frame an answer, "so I thought I'd tell you more about my son."
"Yes I know. I understand that," the woman smiled, as she let her fingers do a ballet and then lift her drink as if it were a prize for the performance, "but that was anything but about your son. It spoke more of the protocol your family follows for a marriage."
"Eventually one has to think of marriage you know."
"But you will think of that when such an eventuality comes your way."
"And as a mother it's my duty to think beforehand of such things."
"I did not say that such an eventuality had arisen."
"I did not say I am doing my duty here either."
"I like that answer Maam, you are very smart."
"Yes," the mother sighed, "but not as much as the women of today. They simper, and then simper some more, and think that's all they need to get what they want."
"And you think," the woman said in a voice that sounded like the tinkling of bells, "there's one of that species here?"
To this, the mother did not reply. Instead, she rose, drew her chair aside, and stood looking down at the woman. The look was so keen in its intention on conveying what it had to, it did not realize it had got her fingers to curl up into a fist that spewed a subtle shade of resentment. For a full minute, she let her gaze burn the woman. And after that, she picked her purse and walked off to her table.
--
"Did you see her?"
"Oh yes, she went at her hammer and tongs."
"But the woman's quite a rock! Look at the way she just took it all and even managed to show her 32 horses."
"Ha ha. Yes, yes, I came this side just to watch the fun."
"What a woman you are!"
"Well she asked for it."
"What you mean ask for it?"
"You know I was trying to tell her it's just harmless but no! She will not listen."
"Oh she has always been that way. She just has to have her way. Or else, she'll never be satisfied."
The relative put her drink down and contemplated on that observation.
"Yes," the relative said, "she is like that. I wonder how will she take it if she knows the truth."
"Oh that! Well, I wonder about that myself. But what's the truth?"
"Oh don't you know?"
"No. You never tell."
"Ha ha! Well, he's going around for sure."
"Yes but with whom?"
"That woman's sister!"
"Good Lord!"
"Yes, The Lord is good! At least He seen to it that my husband isn't entangled with her!"
And so the relative and her acquaintance tinkled their glasses and laughed with a little sigh of relief thrown in.
The laughed for they knew the angst, the anxiety, and the worry was not to be theirs.
And they sighed for they knew relief in this world is a charm that longs not to satisfy.
A similar experiment, or so a certain mother felt, was on at the other end of the venue. Here, the mother reckoned, the intoxication took the form of a woman and the man was in no mood to refuse her inebriation. The man was her son and the mother had no idea he knew this woman.
"I know he knows women. But this one!"
"Well, she seems alright to me," said her relative, laughing, "at least she's talking, not sitting still."
"Oh yes, and her dress is doing a whole lot of talking as well."
"Really?"
"Look at that bloody dress! Look at it."
The relative put down her glass on the table and looked. "It's a nice dress."
"And bloody."
"Oh you mean the colour! Well, that's what's known as a deep royal red."
"Well, I don't see how they can call it royal! It just insists on sitting way above her knees."
"It's just above her knees."
"From where I am sitting, I can see more than just the knees. I can see everything."
"Really now! I doubt that you know. It looks like it wants to show everything but just stops short of doing so."
"Exactly! So it's not quite revealing dear."
"Oh shut up! Look at it! It screams sin."
"I don't see how you can hear that! I can barely hear you in all this din."
"Don't be ridiculous," the mother snapped, it's a whiff of a dress! Look at the way she's strapped it onto her neck."
"Ah, it's a pretty neckline laced with diamonds, isn't it?"
"It's a neckline that draws no line where it has to. It just lets everything plunge out."
"You mean it's a plunging neckline?"
"No, it's a line I can't stand."
"You could never stand plunging necklines."
"But this is worse than that!"
"So you can let the line plunge but not below another borderline?"
"The point is that line and the dress and that woman as well are all in my firing line."
"Look, it's a pretty dress," the relative said, "and anyway, you are not wearing it. She is. So what's your problem?"
"My problem is she's sitting and talking to him."
"Oh the sitting is the problem or the talking?"
She did not answer the question immediately. Instead, she drifted her gaze towards the man, her son, and the woman. The woman knew exactly when to lean in and when to fall gracefully onto the back of her chair and accompany the act with a practised bout of laughter. The man smiled through this performance and appeared to have let his eyes be quite bewitched by her fluttering eyelashes.
"See see how she lures him into her lair!"
"But she's just talking dear! Women talk you know. You are a woman. You talk too!"
"But not with a dress that speaks the same filth that she does."
"I am not quite sure the dress speaks filth dear. And I am quite sure she doesn't do that either. I am sure it's pretty harmless chatter."
"Well, what do you know?" the mother snapped, "you don't even have children."
That, as a matter of fact, was true. And true to its nature, that truth sliced through her like a knife. The relative rose all in shambles and tried to look like one whole piece. But her feet could stand the pain no longer and wobbled as she clutched at her cool. She then picked up her drink and realized she shouldn't have had this conversation in the first place. But she also wanted to incite a little drama and watch it flare into a full blown act.
So, she turned as she walked away and "If you have so much of a problem with her sitting there," she said, "just get up and tell her not to entice him then. Rather tell her you do not approve of her."
"But that son of mine-"
"What about him?"
"He'll tell me to get lost if I do it when he's sitting there."
"Do it when he's not at that table."
"But I cannot tell her upfront, can I?"
"Well, you told me I have no children! You surely can tell her!"
And with that the relative walked off to a table close to the man and the woman.
---
Another 15 minutes later, the man was nudged by a phone call and so, he left the woman alone. The woman smiled, let him walk off into the dark recesses of the venue, and began to scrutinize her neighbours. The table next to her gave company to a family that made it its business to show her how scandalous they were by her attire: The matriarch looked shock but toned that down to a stony look, the patriarch looked carved in stone whenever he bothered to throw a glance at her, and the two daughters just would not stop staring. The table next to that was trying its best to not let the tinytots move it out of the position it had decided to occupy. And just as she let her eyes pounce on Table no. 3, she felt a pair of eyes boring into her back.
She knew those eyes for she had sensed their heat from across the hall. And she was sure they lay in wait for her.
"So you know my son?"
"That's your son?," she asked, her voice akin to the rustle of silk, "He's a fine fellow."
"I know. I am his mother."
"Ah," she said as she let loose a brilliant smile, "sure you know better."
By now the mother had conquered the chair next to her and was all set to launch her next question.
"You work with him?"
"No, I did."
"Ah, okay, and now?"
"Well, not anymore."
"I see. Tell me something: You have no shame to wear that dress?"
"This dress?," the woman asked, smiling all the while, as she twisted her toes to subdue her impatience.
"Yes this dress," the mother repeated, as she let her finger trace the hem of the gown in midair.
"Well, it's a nice dress. I think I like it."
"But it's outrageous. No one told you that?"
"On the contrary, that man - your son - says it's sexy."
"Sexy!" the mother echoed for she knew not what else to substitute there.
'Yes he said it's sexy. And so did a few others."
"He said that? He knows that word!"
The woman threw her shoulders on the backrest and killed a fit of laughter as she said: "Yes, yes, he does."
Clearly the conversation wasn't going well. And this word had led to a spectacular casualty. The mother had no clue how to go on with what she was there for. But being the mother that she was, she just knew she had to spit it out.
So she let her quivering head steady and then looked straight at the woman. "You know our family is highly educated."
"I see."
"We have all married highly educated people."
"Really? That's studious."
"Yes, and we have all married people we know."
"I see."
"We have never married out of the community."
"Really? Why is that?"
"Why is what?"
"Why have you all married within the community?"
"That's because it's the best. That way you get to know everything about the person."
"I see."
"And you know this son of mine? He's been getting offers to go abroad. But he isn't going you know. We even have our family members abroad too. But no, he just doesn't want to go."
"Why?"
"Oh he's not interested - just not interested."
"I see," the woman said, her face coloured with an angry red by now, "I see. But I don't understand why are you telling me all this?"
To this, the mother just smiled and began to plan a retreat.
But the woman was not to be left alone like this. She just had to have her reply.
"Yes maam," she said, loud enough to arrest the mother's movements, "why do you tell all this?"
"Well, you know my son. I mean, you know my son!" the mother said, as she desperately caught hold of words to frame an answer, "so I thought I'd tell you more about my son."
"Yes I know. I understand that," the woman smiled, as she let her fingers do a ballet and then lift her drink as if it were a prize for the performance, "but that was anything but about your son. It spoke more of the protocol your family follows for a marriage."
"Eventually one has to think of marriage you know."
"But you will think of that when such an eventuality comes your way."
"And as a mother it's my duty to think beforehand of such things."
"I did not say that such an eventuality had arisen."
"I did not say I am doing my duty here either."
"I like that answer Maam, you are very smart."
"Yes," the mother sighed, "but not as much as the women of today. They simper, and then simper some more, and think that's all they need to get what they want."
"And you think," the woman said in a voice that sounded like the tinkling of bells, "there's one of that species here?"
To this, the mother did not reply. Instead, she rose, drew her chair aside, and stood looking down at the woman. The look was so keen in its intention on conveying what it had to, it did not realize it had got her fingers to curl up into a fist that spewed a subtle shade of resentment. For a full minute, she let her gaze burn the woman. And after that, she picked her purse and walked off to her table.
--
"Did you see her?"
"Oh yes, she went at her hammer and tongs."
"But the woman's quite a rock! Look at the way she just took it all and even managed to show her 32 horses."
"Ha ha. Yes, yes, I came this side just to watch the fun."
"What a woman you are!"
"Well she asked for it."
"What you mean ask for it?"
"You know I was trying to tell her it's just harmless but no! She will not listen."
"Oh she has always been that way. She just has to have her way. Or else, she'll never be satisfied."
The relative put her drink down and contemplated on that observation.
"Yes," the relative said, "she is like that. I wonder how will she take it if she knows the truth."
"Oh that! Well, I wonder about that myself. But what's the truth?"
"Oh don't you know?"
"No. You never tell."
"Ha ha! Well, he's going around for sure."
"Yes but with whom?"
"That woman's sister!"
"Good Lord!"
"Yes, The Lord is good! At least He seen to it that my husband isn't entangled with her!"
And so the relative and her acquaintance tinkled their glasses and laughed with a little sigh of relief thrown in.
The laughed for they knew the angst, the anxiety, and the worry was not to be theirs.
And they sighed for they knew relief in this world is a charm that longs not to satisfy.
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