Hold Karain! Movie Bun Rahee Hai!

She walks in with graceful hesitance, dressed in red, being watched by hundreds as her gaze rests on the floor ahead of her. She is helped with her clothes as she slowly sits next to the dulha who is unsuccessfully trying to maintain a composure for the biggest occasion of his life.

‘Zara saath ho kar bait jaain!’ the cameraman politely commands with half his attention on the new couple and the rest on the camera he is expertly adjusting.

Flashes go off from around the room as friends and relatives try to greedily capture the moment through their lens while those looking on blink their eyes from the glare. Soft music is being played in the background but it’s buried in the constant chatter of those surrounding the newly wed couple.

‘Isn’t she looking beautiful?’ passionately remarks one.
‘The dulha is so gorgeous!’ says another.

It is as if there cannot be any doubt in anyone’s mind about what the future holds for the new couple. Destiny is secure in the sweaty but gifted palms of the dulha and in the elegantly henna-ed hands of the bride. The string of hope awaits being filled with pearls of happiness that are expected to be found at each step for the rest of their lives.

‘Bilkul Theek!’ exclaims the cameraman while taking a couple of snap shots.

Hilyay mat! Hold karain! Movie ban rahee hai!, he continues while motioning to his colleague with the video camera to take a ten-second clip of the couple.

The gloomy dense fog outside with its bitingly chilly atmosphere contrasts with the festive spirit prevailing in the large room. However, despite the cold weather some have broken out into a sweat. Every now and then the cameraman takes a break to wipe off the perspiration from his forehead and face.

The ladies alter the dupatas on their shoulders and chests, fix their make-up, while others search for their husbands so that they can sit next to the newly weds for the picture taking session. The dulha and dulhan are like a nucleus - seated, stationary, centered, while the world whirls around them incessantly, organizing itself for the event.

The first visiting couples to have their snaps taken are Mr. and Mrs. Naqvi.

Mrs. Naqvi’s excited spirit diffuses into the surrounding gathering. Her aura is that of an aggressively active person. Despite her overwhelming passion for life Mr. Naqvi by contrast remains sober, dejected and intimidated by her public persona. He ignores the numerous flirtatious advances Mrs. Naqvi publicly makes.

The world loves Mrs. Naqvi’s zest which frustrates Mr. Naqvi, who feels further marginalized. At moments like these he rues the day they were married. The world has come to know him as ‘Mrs. Naqvi’s husband.’

Mrs. Naqvi takes away the youngest child from her husband, hands it to a relative, skillfully adjusts the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket and beaming with a large smile and joyful eyes sits down next to the bride. Mr. Naqvi pretends he hasn’t noticed any of his wife’s assistance and calmly crosses his legs staring at the camera with a composed face devoid of any expression.

Click! Click!
Hold karain! Movie ban rahee hai!

The Iman’s are the next couple to sit down with the dulha-dulhan.

‘So who’s your Valentine?’ Mr. Iman’s friends at California State would ask. It would always leave Mr. Iman looking for an explanation.

‘Got a hot date tonight?’ his co-workers would quip after he began employment as a network engineer for a company based in Folsom, California. Mr. Iman was scorched by these questions and would hap hazardously come up with excuses.

Over the years, perhaps due to his limited social abilities in the United States, compounded by his Pakistani upbringing he had bred and nurtured an obsessive-romantic idea of love and life. His success and an American passport would ensure that the conditions for a beautiful and fair-skinned girl would be readily acceptable.

Mrs. Iman was initially attracted by the thought that she would finally be able to go to America and pursue a career in journalism. She had been jealous seeing her friends end up with well-off foreign-settled husbands. Sensing this, Mr. Iman played up the angle and showed her all possibilities she could pursue with him.

However, it was soon apparent to Mr. Iman that his wife had no romantic aspirations toward him regardless of his efforts to infuse in her the passions he felt. The expectations of Mr. Iman were gently strangled as his wife would not pick up his gradually increasing hints for wanting something in return for the freedom he helped her gain. The truth was, Mrs. Iman more than realized this but felt helpless for she could not come up with the emotions her husband desired from her.

Alone, the two have very little to talk about, and usually they give up even trying. Bitterness is slowly but surely making its way into their lives as the Iman couple half-heartedly smile at the camera for a picture. It’s only been two years, but seems like ages since the Iman couple was the dulha and dulhan of the occasion, with the audience gushing at them with praise and admiration.

Click! Click!
Hold karain! Movie ban rahee hai!

‘I should have gotten one two sizes larger!’ the dulha whispers pointing at his pugree tightly adjusted on his head. His bride and brother quietly smile at the comment. It is the first time in night that the bride has smiled without being asked to by the cameraman.

‘All set?’ inquires the cameraman. Without waiting for anyone to respond, he begins to get set for taking another round of snaps.

Mr. and Mrs. Sohail arrive for their turn.

Their meeting had been unexpected. Their marriage even more so. Mr. Sohail was an poor aspiring whole-seller of fruits and vegetables. Mrs. Sohail’s ailing father, had provided him with a credit based merely on trust, seeing the potential of the young man. After repaying the debt, Mr. Sohail proposed for his daughter’s hand.

Months before the wedding, Mrs. Sohail had seen in Mr. Sohail a sincere friend willing to help out her family without any greedy ambitions. The trust had gradually lead to intense feelings of love. As often happens in lower-class traditional families, for an endless time she kept them hidden.

However, after marriage her eyes never concealed the devotion she held for her hard-working husband. She loved how he would flop on the bed and start snoring without taking off his shoes, or when he would apply aftershave whose smell would seep through the bathroom into their bedroom, or when he would come home on Fridays with a beaming smile holding a fruit-basket with a selection of the season’s best fruits.

For Mr. Sohail, his wife could not be any more perfect. Having been disowned of what little he may have received in inheritance by greedy elder siblings and forced to live out on the streets for months, his life’s successes reaffirmed for him that a strong faith in hard work and the All Mighty will eventually bring happiness no matter how abysmal one’s situation.

As Mrs. Sohail sat down for the customary picture she made sure to admiringly glance towards her husband before smiling at the camera.

Click! Click!
Hold karain! Movie ban rahee hai!

‘Will you for once take your mind off your cursed plans and get over here!’ hissed Mrs. Obaidullah at her husband.

Mr. Obaidullah was asking a Gujjar relative about the potential for establishing a franchise for lassi-drinkers across the nation.

“There are so many variations of the drink, we can help segments identify their preferences with detailed menus!” excitedly proclaimed Mr. Obaidullah to the amused but uninterested Gujjar relative.

Regardless of how much Mrs. Obaidullah complained over the antics of her husband, in the end she realized she could not do without him- more importantly, it was perhaps the knowledge that no one else could stand her consistent bickering. It was as if Mr. Obaidullah was made for her. And he gave her plenty of reasons to go off.

He moved from one failed business venture to the next with the self-assured appearance that everything was going according to a meticulously laid out plan.

Behind his back he was called ‘Allah Mian’s bhains’ or ‘biwi ka ghulam’. However nothing would have an effect. Because the truth was, Mr. Obaidullah knew he needed exactly what his wife practiced on him in order to somewhat reign in the run-away zeal he exhibited at every turn for every venture nearly all of which worsened the couple’s financial situation.

The ever-fleeting present, the delusions of momentary highs are what Mr. Obaidullah lived for. There was no long-term strategic plan in effect. And Mrs. Obaidullah, though criticizing her husband’s fickle nature, lived in the same manner.

It was not uncommon for her to switch from displaying anger to joy in one breath. For example she painfully lamented how her husband refused to listen to her as he got into a haphazard partnership to open a brand new store selling Rajhastani bangles. The store went out of business within a week. While expressing her helplessness, she would roll her eyes which would end up resting on a pair of white sparkling Rajhastani bangles happily dangling on her wrist. The sight would instantaneously bring a luminous smile on her face and she would dreamingly begin to tell everyone that Mr. Obaidullah had given them to her as a present.

While they sit next to the dulha-dulhan, Mrs. Obaidullah is scolding her husband for not having shaved for the wedding and so in anger she refuses to smile at the camera.

The annoyed cameraman gives up waiting and takes the picture.

Click! Click!
Hold karain! Movie ban rahee hai!

As the night dwells into the early morning hours and the formal picture taking session ends, the ‘duudh-pilai’ tradition begins. The relatives of the bride do their utmost to convince the bewildered dulha to drink up while his own relatives threaten him not to. There are barrages of arguments that break out and drag on.

The cameraman and his assistants have a hard time trying to do their job as the crowd disregards their need for space and surrounds the newly wed couple.

The dulha’s refusal to drink becomes gradually hardened by the vocal support he is receiving from his family. For the first time since the arrival, he is showing confidence.

“No!” he continues to exclaim shaking his head as the bride’s family is asking for too much money.

Just when all is deemed to be lost, the helpless spokespersons of the bride’s family pull a master stroke.

“Here! You ask him to drink up!” they tell the bride indicating for her to take the cup. Initially she resists having to be brought in the argument and the groom’s family claims this act as travesty and an unacceptable strategy!

However, eventually the bride, shyly smiling, slowly takes the cup and places it in front of the dulha whose resistance instantly melts as he blushes and takes a sip from the cup.

As the bride’s family celebrates victory, the laughter of the crowd flutters in the air seeping into everyone including those who had forgotten it (as well as the frowning cameraman and his assistants who are feeling rudely sidelined) and makes everyone momentarily take pleasure in happiness forgetting all about tomorrow and what it may bring.