From Ballet to Balle Balle

Its been 21 years since i moved on from my little Parsi world in Bombay to Northern India.

As I sip my warm brandy and honey, I recall the early days of my marriage, and the  transition from ballet to balle balle, (from Bombay to Chandigarh)

I must admit I was warned by many Parsi women of the great cultural difference between the two communities. "It will be a very difficult adjustment, as we have more of english influence", they lamented.  
But it all fell on deaf ears and I plunged into my Sardarji's arms whole heartedly.

Whole heartedly and foolishly, because, the only cultural knowledge I had was mostly from bollywood movies. Mentally, I geared myself to accept the Northern frontier pretty much the way it was cinematically portrayed...... 

big hearted, brash, dynamic and melodramatic.  

From the minute we registered as husband and wife, there was one thing I secretly dreaded .....

The ceremonial hand over of the 'house keys' (house/cupboard/ safe keys et al) from the mother-in-law to the daughter-in-law (as portrayed in tele serials) . A symbol of trust and transfer of responsibilities on to the new bewildered bride. I was hoping against hope I would be spared of this huge responsibility as I was incapable of handling it.

Well....to this day, I am yet to be handed over the bunch of keys....  
(I guess it is only in the movies.)

The next day after marriage, my husband's cousin-sister asked me coyly....

"So, how do you like my brother"?  
(According to my knowledge my husband had no sister).  
Oblivious to the custom that in North India every unrelated person is also referred to as brother or sister,  I quizzically looked at her and said "but I haven't met your brother"

Incidentally she was referring to my husband.   

The days after marriage were difficult on me and my tummy.  
Several dinners were hosted by relatives for a closer look of the new couple (especially the bewildered bride), and we had to oblige.  Apart from the language disadvantage, the tough part was that my reflexes were not quick and firm to stop the host from pouring the second and third helping onto my plate (I was always a second too late) and as a result, from 'wine n dine' the dinners became 'dine n die'. 

Was there a communication gap, I wondered, but surely a shake of the head from left to right is universally understood as "NO".

But the poor bride must always have her plate full, her mouth full and her paet (tummy) over full. Only then can the host relax.

One of grave disparities I noticed was that while the men savoured rum, whisky and  wine, women were only offered something lite and less divine...... cold drinks.

Well....I think it has marginally changed with time as women get bolder to demand their drink of choice.

A few days after marriage, one morning, I was forced to answer the phone as my mom-in-law was not around.....

        "Hello, kamal",

"Er....Nahi aunty ....er....yeh kamal nahi hai". (no, it's not kamal, i stuttered)

         "Kon bol raha hai......"  (who is it speaking ?)

(Unsure if the lady understood english and unsure of my hindi/punjabi, i wracked my brains for a suitable reply....

"er....mai unki bahuraani bol rahi hu". (it's the dutyful daughter-in-law of the house i replied)      

Bollywood had come to my rescue. 

Later I learnt, this had became a good joke in my mom-in-law's kitty parties.

Since we got married in December, we attended a lot of weddings that season. These supposedly joyous occasions were unfortunately, very dull and boring. The poor bride and groom stood endlessly on stage meeting a long line of unknown guests, photo posing and forced smiling with every unknown face. 

The other guests in the hall were strictly divided into 2 seating groups of Men & Women.  On one side sat the men, whisky glass in hand.  On the other side sat the women bedecked in all that they owned. Both sides simply sat and stared at the bride and groom. Conversation if any, was strictly pertaining to the bride, groom and their outfits. The rest kept busy in the 'sit and stare' position.

One of the things I could never fathom (before my marriage) was the part where a tuneless band played along, and the regally dressed rythmless baarat (the husband's family) danced energetically on the road. 

But when I got a chance to be a part it, there was no stopping me. 

 I turned out to be the key dancer. Jumping, swinging, swirling, swaying, I enjoyed every bit of dancing on the road. 

The 'single-song-repeat-all-along' band kept banging the dhols and blowing their large trumpets, and I kept doing the balle balle. I kept dancing, the band kept playing. Till finally the band was forced to stop, to make me stop!  

Gosh, what a transformation from ballet to balle balle.

  

As years passed, with time I began to understand Punjabi and the true meaning of their regular phrases.     

This I will share, to clear the intention behind their communication and to avoid confusion (for those in a situation like me).

What they say and what they mean.....

"I am going to tell you some thing, but don't tell anyone."

This means that none other he and only he will pass on the information to the rest of the world.

"Can you do this small work for me"

This means you are going to be over loaded with work.

"I am very particular about my food"

If you invite me for dinner, the food better be par excellence, healthy, sweet, khatta, meetha and namkeen.

"I am not too hungry, i will have a small serving."

 Small servings, several times.

"Ooofff, I have over eaten".....

Now I need a cuppa tea to push the food down my gullet.

"No sugar in my tea, I am a diabetic".

I am forgoing sugar so I will have mithai with my chai.

"I am going to tell you a joke"

So courtesy demands you laugh, whether funny or not.

"I am a teatotaller".

I love tea and all black tea coloured drinks.

"Pl pour me one peg".

Make it double large.

So, 21 years.... 2 kids, one home dog, one peachick, plenty of stray dogs, some bats, pigeons, and lizards later....

My little 10 year old daughter, who loves sweet lassi, insists she wants to learn......ballet.

Ballet !!!! 

Well.......just when I thought I had mastered the art of Balle Balle !

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