great expectations

South Asian families are often brought up of a diet rice or chapattis (and other worldy foods, I'm not being stereotypical. just bear with.) We're also served up daily if not hourly with doses of the merits of hard work. Ever since I was young my parents would bleat on about how my brother's favourite song growing up was "Papa Kehte hain" this roughly translates to "What my Dad says".

Predating the wonderful "Shit my dad says" twitter feed, this Bollywood teen song was not about rebellion. Oh no. this was about one son's desire to make his father's dreams come true.

 Practically brainwashed. So with it came the hours of homework, reading and writing, and in my case lamenting that I wasn't very good at sports. But unfortunately my parents were left surprised that after all their focus on academics that not a single one of us became a doctor. And thank Allah they were placated later when my sister got her PhD. But with their ambition came a shred of hypocrisy. After travelling across the world and setting up home away from their family and friends we've often been guilt tripped to stay local otherwise we might end up like the kids out of Baghban. (A Bollywood film in which the kids fail to look after their parents in the autumn of their life. there's even a sad song in a phone box)

 

This didn't deter me though. Good on those kids I thought. I'm no Gordon Gekko but ambition is a good thing. And before I knew it I was shipped off to London in a horse and cart with promises of a great education and ticket to mix with the upper echelons of society. No...Wait that is the plot to Great Expectations.

It's been three years since I've graduated and moved back home. The status quo can often remain the same for months than in a flash everything changes and you can find yourself looking at your parents a little bit in awe. Not just for an amazing knack for money management (which I'm still waiting to inherit) but for their way they did set up life a world away from everything they knew. Of course they'll probably ruin the moment when they tell you to wear socks with your loafers because it's cold out. These days we've forged our own path and even though I joke about it I can't help but feel that we've taken that work ethic we were brought up on with us and hopefully apply it to becoming a reality TV brand.

I'm kidding.

 theguyinthebowtie.

brother of the bride part two

So yesterday was a big day for us here at the Akhtar Khan compound. I mean household.

My sister got married. Well officially. It was a true amalgamation of both our British-ness and Asian-ness.

The morning kicked off with the usual commotion that ensues when our family has anything to sort out. It was going to be a mad dash to the Register Office.
But as we all ran around in a scene not too dissimilar to the opening scenes of Home Alone. (1 & 2 - I've not seen 3).

The ladies of the house were at the beauticians preparing for the day ahead as time ticked along I got a crash course in dressing a toddler in a party dress. FYI you should not be able to see her vest underneath the dress.

I did not know this.

We made it to the Register office in time waiting for the Groom and his family to arrive.

The service went smoothly apart from when my niece dropped my phone during the all important "Does anyone have any objection bit"?

A soap staple.

This was followed by an inordinate amount of pictures outside the register office and town hall with our very own photographer to boot.



I've never felt so Asian.

After the ceremony there were several hours between the registration and the Islamic ceremony. Otherwise known as the nikah.

"A formal, binding contract is considered integral to a religiously valid Islamic marriage, and outlines the rights and responsibilities of the groom and bride. The marriage must be declared publicly. Divorce is permitted."

Thanks Wikipedia.

so as the evening arrived the same amount nerves began to pile up but rather than just the few guests that came to the ceremony in the morning, many more people were about to descend onto our house.

The groom's side. The bride's side. And the Imams.

So when the guys with the beards arrived we knew it was show time. Especially because my nephew was serenading them with JLS' "Do you feel what I feel?" upon their arrival.



The ceremony varies from the British one. Aside from the fact that everyone is called Mohammed yet the Imam still asked us how to spell it. (Between me and you I think he's in the wrong job.) There's also a greater family involvement and the whole thing was a lot more emotional. And dare I piss off the Daily Mail but more symbolic.
There's an eerie silence as the groom declares his loyalty to the woman he is about to marry all the while the bride is in another room. I think it's that silence that leads you to ponder the gravity of it all.

Or in my case whether it's acceptable to live tweet during a nikah.

I've never felt so British.

FYI it isn't acceptable.

So it wasn't just my 5 year old nephew who got the giggles.

My sister's part was more emotionally charged. An Asian daughter's journey into marriage is incredibly symbolic. So there were a few tears shed.



A Bollywood staple.

#Mashallah the ceremony went well. And after the groom's side depleted and my extended family outstayed their welcome, we reflected on the day in good spirits. Now we have the reception or actual shaadi to look forward to in June.

The learning curve continues. I'll keep you posted.

theguyinthebowtie