Skip to main content

A Tam Brahm’s guide to marriage

Over the years, the tam brahm has been stereotyped in more ways than one. Most of the stereotypes are true and nothing to be ashamed of. If we were all alike, there would be nothing to write, nothing to gossip about, nothing that will make us stand apart from each other. Here are a few observations about the state of marriage for a tam brahm.

First, in a tam brahm wedding, very few people are actually interested in the wedding. What they are really interested in is who is going to get married next. If you are single and in your twenties, you are doomed. Inevitably, you will find these maamis , who act as scouts and whose lifetime goals consist in finding out the following:

a) What’s your age?
b) When do you plan to get married?
c) Are you going to the USA?
d) Are you traditional?
e) Are you dating?

Somehow, they will find out. And before you know it, a suitable suitor will be flashed in front of you. Your time starts.... now.








Second, if you are a boy, you should be a software engineer. Any lesser profession is demeaning. You should have studied engineering and then, only then will you be worthy of a respectable tam brahm girl. Of course, at some point you have to go to the US. Doesn’t matter for what. Just go.



If you are a girl, you must know or at some point of time, at least be acquainted with the following – wearing a nine yard sari, learning Carnatic classical music (vocal or instrumental), keeping golu, and making good parpoosali curry and vettha kozhambu. Only then will you be worthy of a respectable tam brahm boy.









Third, you have to feign ignorance of non-vegetarian food. Despicable, really, this meat eating.













Fourth, you have to write GRE or tell everybody you are preparing for GRE. This is extremely important as it is the critical link between the past and future. This gives you great respectability in the marriage marketplace too.















Fifth, for guys, you have to know sandhya vandanam. It is rites of passage for most guys, who do it the first and last time after their thread ceremony. If you don’t know it, learn it. If you know it, gloat about it.








Sixth, you are always fair in your matrimonial ad. Go figure.













Seventh, you must know the difference between all the castes and sub-castes. Start off with knowing the difference between an iyer and an iyengar. Then learn about what makes each sub-caste unique. Then tell your folks you are marrying a Latvian.


Eighth, Thair sadam is the unequivocal national dish of the Tam Brahms. To say otherwise will invite censure. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When an Iyer met an Iyengar

If you see my parents, they look like the quintessential arranged marriage couple. After nearly 35 years together, they still take care not to touch each other while posing for a photograph and my mother’s smile dangles precariously between a smile and a grimace. But this image discolours the truth a tad.
Some 40 years back, they met at work, fell in love and got married. The talking point of the union being mom’s status as an iyengar and dad’s as an iyer. Simply put, the iyers and the iyengars are two castes of the Brahmin community, each, when given the chance, profess superiority to each other on all counts. If you listen closely, an Iyengar talking about an Iyer will say ‘Iyer a?’ in a condescending tone. And vice versa.
Mom tells me that when she told her dad about the marriage, he vowed to stand by her at any cost. Dad never told me what happened, but allow me to hazard a guess. His mother (my grandmother), threatened to go on a fast unto death. My dad threatened to go on a parall…
11 comments
Read more

Unfair and unlovely

If time is money, the demonetization drive has ensured that many Indians are already very rich because they have suddenly been taught the virtue of patience.
A crossing near my house got to be very busy and a new signal was installed to help regulate the flow. Every single day, I see people break the signal from all sides without paying heed to their safety or anyone else’s. The people who break the signals glare at you for following the rules. You feel guilty for being patient.
The signal is red and people behind you are honking as if there was a reward for it. People shout the choicest of epithets at you for not moving and standing your ground. Either that or I need to go for an eye check up and see if I am colour blind. In another part of the world, orange maybe the new black but as far as I know, red is not the new green.
Stand in a queue at the railway station, in the petrol bunk, airport check-in counter ,or to pay a bill, and there will always be that one asshole who tries to…
Post a Comment
Read more

Rasam rice

On some days, Bangalore weather becomes nostalgic. And for some time, everyone is permitted to live in the past. On one such June day, the sun wistfully playing hide and seek and the clouds emitting just enough raindrops for an instagram photo, the weather flirting with winter, the craving for rasam becomes telling.
Rasam. Rasam rice. Whichever, doesn’t matter.
First, use your fingers to make space in the middle of a heap of rice. Don’t protest when the dollop of ghee gleefully sinks into the rice. The rasam should scald, otherwise the ride isn’t worth it. The flesh on your fingers crawl when you dip them into the rasam, but trust me, keep with it. No good thing has been known to ever come easy. The impatient wait for a few seconds and an insignificant morsel is savoured. Gooseflesh ensues.
Slowly but steadily, bigger portions are savoured. to enhance the experience and attain nirvana, combine it with crisp papad and sandige.  Personal favourites include molagu rasam, thakkali rasam, jee…
Post a Comment
Read more