The Fourth Seat?
Okay, so the last time we went wedding shopping for Mossy, I admit I turned to mush. It turned into a sequence from a feel good Meg Ryan movie or something. We shopped, we spent, we bonded- yeah yeah, very cute. But I've realized this whole bonding over the shopping excursion thing, for me, has a two day expiry date. Two days exactly.
For the last two days, it feels like we have done nothing but spend money and take occasional stops to pee and eat. And with the gang setting up base camp in our apartment, it has turned into a MADHOUSE. The floor is practically invisible. Fold-out beds have popped up everywhere. There is constant talking and it hurts my head, it really does. Its ceaseless and high pitched. I'm thanking God my father is in Mumbai right now, because with the potent combination of the spending levels and the decible levels, he'd bust a vein or something. Then again, he'd be great company for grumbling.
It's becoming a tough life. Mossy is more irritable than ever, and GrandMossy is, if its humanely possible, more hormonal than her testosterone-d daughter. MiniMossy is multitasking- shopping and handling boyfriend issues. So we can feel a huge well of hormones about to attack her as well and are steering clear of Mini. My mother, angel that she is, is trying to pacify everyone- the bride, the entourage and me, her funked out daughter who is caught in a whirlwind of satin, taffeta and admission results.
All of this energy- nervous and otherwise- was building to a crescendo. You could feel the lachrymal glands gearing up for some solid work. Then this evening, as we all sat down to dinner, something sparked it off. One minute the five women were talking and eating, and the next Mossy was crying, then Mini was crying, and then GrandMossy. Mum trying once again to pacify and me to keep up the supply of water and tissues. But it was okay after a while. Much to our relief they stopped with as much synchronicity as they'd started. Little did I know this was the preview to the real cry fest.
The remainder of the evening was spent talking about marriage and all that it entails. It was genuinely touching. Mum and GrandMossy telling us their marital ups and downs and the Mini and Mossy telling us about their marital hopes and fears. Yeah yeah, we bonded. And I had a tough time keeping those tissues coming. But it really was genuinely touching.
It was then that GrandMossy told us her analogy of marriage. GrandMossy has an analogy for everything under this sun and every other sun there is. So she told us about the Fourth Seat. In Mumbai's crowded local trains the train seats are only made to seat three people. But commuters always try to tell people to shift a little and make some room for a fourth person- the fourth seat. Sometimes the people already seated shift and sometimes they don't. The crux of the matter is- you adjust. Marriage is like asking for the fourth seat. Whatever happens, both have to adjust, or else no one is comfortable.
I do not know if this will make sense to you, my sparse readers. But to the five of us it made perfect sense. Here is Mossy who hates the fuss of marriage and only wanted a court ceremony, but she's jumping the hoops. Why? Because she doesn't just marry the guy, she marries into a family. And you try to keep people happy. There's GrandMossy who quit her job and followed her husband to his various jobs around the world. There's Mini who must deal with a long-distance relationship and all its aches and pains. It may be the fourth seat, but its a seat. Things aren't always as you'd like them to be.
It's odd. Speaking in terms of the analogy, I always figured love and marriage should be, must be, the seat by the window. Comfort and great views. I'm not sure I want to give this analogy, my analogy up. Not yet. But beyond that, I'm glad the wedding jitters are out of our bevy of beauties. It really is therapeutic to cry. And talk.
And maybe the expiry date on the whole mushy-bonding thing isn't two days after all.
This entry was posted
on 24.4.06 at 12:30 AM.
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Things aren't always as you'd like them to be. - how i hate that.
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