Tam Brahm Weddings: The Holy Union of Boredom and Bananas

Culture

Tam Brahm Weddings: The Holy Union of Boredom and Bananas

Illustration: Arati Gujar

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ike many a young Tam Brahm, the approach of wedding season has me ricocheting between two extreme emotions. On one hand there is glee – say if the invite says a destination wedding in Bali – and on the other hand there is dread – an Iyer cousin’s wedding in Chembur.

We live in a time when the nation has joyfully adopted Karan Johar’s vision of the ultimate shaadi. They are now widely regarded as some of the most fun celebrations in the world, with every foreigner hoping to eventually be a part of the Big Fat Indian Wedding. But when everyone else has boarded the party bus, the Tam Brahm stands in the corner, turning his nose up at your richly embroidered lehenga-cholis, your stupid synchronised dances, and profusion of tharki drunk uncles. A good Iyer wedding, like most preferred Tam Brahm pastimes, is an exercise in the virtue of patience, not partying.

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