The Wedding Singer
The Wedding Singer – A journey unto itself
What a wedding was it? Was it a wedding or a carnival? I wonder many a times on the hollowness of human intent around us, most times.
You must be wondering who I am? I am just like you, a slightly over-weight, mid height, average looking “Dude” tag aspirant, who gets invited to mingle with the ‘haves’ and pretenders both.
Was I happy attending the marriage drama of Rocky and Samantha on that desolate Tuesday, the 19th February? – I decided to rewind my memory to reflect on what I read in the eyes at the wedding.
“It was rockin, a la Rocky”, was all that I heard about the party. Amidst the cacophony of the music, shielded bear-hugs and firm gritty handshakes, I meandered towards the platform where there was a band playing love songs. Dolly, or was it Polly… don’t exactly remember the name of the lead singer…… but here, let me call her Dolly. I planned to nurse just a glass of French wine for the entire evening, and stood leaning onto the giant speakers, and tried snooping into her soul, her heart, her mind and her being through the vacant excitement in her eyes.
She was good! Not mellifluous, but pleasant on the eyes and ears. Elegant, smartly attired, nourished, tall, not heavily bejewelled, but smacked of a rich educated lineage.
There was one big giveaway, though. THOSE BLANK EYES, which wasn’t anywhere participative in the wedding happiness of Rocky & Samantha.
Contrasts emerged when I felt (not heard, but felt it through all my 5 senses together) her first song – “I am happy for you, with everyone around us”.
She was lying like the rest of us in the party. That is when I saw every thought darting away from what was being seen. Rocky, unless drunk, couldn’t have ever felt Samantha to be his soul mate, the ‘happy guests’ were congratulating Samantha more to get away from the chore, the kids running around couldn’t give a damn on who was footing the bill for the feast, the chef took off his hat oblivious of the tiny sweat bead slipping onto the dough… Me, cold as a chiller, refrigerating my feelings, and Dolly was “Happy for you, with everyone around us”.
An Indian Shayar (Poet) once famously remarked – Songs are not to be heard, then need to be felt, by the one who sings, and who hears, for both to really enjoy”.
Was it why everyone was into the silly chitter-chatter? Was it why I asked for a refill, albeit for a more acrid alcohol? Was it why Dolly was uttering the words, but not really “Happy for you, with everyone around us?”
I tried to sneak further into Dolly… this was just a job for her. Not really something that made her happy. My mind wandered to my initial years in odd jobs.. was she paying her rent, fee, education, drunk husband’s bail, kids growing up expense etc. through this? Wasnt this what she always wanted to do? Is she also going through the motion like I was driving the delivery truck? Was she “Happy for you, with everyone around us?
I must commend the strength of her appearance…. not one hair out of place with a plastic grin… Those high cheek bones forcing her eyes to squint through the classy glasses, the microphone snuggling comfortably into the gently grip at the base, and the effervescence she spread through the band made music, and everyone was “Happy for you, with everyone around us”
Though she was grossly out of place as far as the revelry was concerned, it wasn’t discernible. Her strength of character emerged strongly visible. Her easy gait reminded me of Gabriela Sabatini walking like John Wayne, fully aware of the contrasts. She smiled as coyotely confident like the pick-up girl in Pretty woman. Words flowed in tandem with the music, and did make sense to everyone; however engrossed were they in their own fluids. She genuinely pretended “Happy for you, with everyone around us.”
As I walked through the party, exchanging pleasantries with all and sundry, I realized that Dolly was probably who would draw ‘gratifications from a job well done’ by “Happy for you, with everyone around us”; the rest of us were there for pretensions sake.
How I wish none of us were dollies in our existence. How I wish I were myself. How I wish Rocky n Samantha were not what they were pretending at this instance to be. How I wish, it were the dollies of the world who got paid better from the cost of the carnival.
I remembered then – Deserve before you desire. I tend to remain a Dolly as I flow with the tide !