Kundli and The Great Indian Wedding Tamasha

In my 26 years of existence on earth I never knew my horoscope (janampatri) or the time of my birth was of any significance till I got into the “great Indian shaadi mela”. (A big round of applause for the prospective Groom - ME!) I realised how lucky I have been to have parents who till recently didn’t even remember the exact time of my birth. (They had to dig out old records) See you can’t blame it on them when I was born in Meerut on 21 May 1987; there were riots underway throughout the city between the Muslims and Hindus. When the labour pains started my mother was taken to hospital in a car having a special pass which could pass through the curfew. In such an eventful arrival of my glorious soul in all my magnificence who expects to be worried about the exact time of birth I popped out and started wailing?

Imagine my dad.

The Nurse screaming at her “Congrats It’s a boy!!!”

Shoving me in his arms and he refuses little innocent me saying “Wait, let me check the time first.”

(I don’t intend any feminist outrage here please.) Feminists for the above careless remark of the nurse can imagine saying to my dad

“Shit... It’s a boy... Where’s the dustbin?”

So I popped into earth and found myself to be in India (Damn! I was supposed to be delivered in California. GOD DAMMIT this FedEx, you can never trust them at all. Let me get old enough to sue them.)  So hopelessly I carried out my life giving exams each year, getting bashed up quite often for not keeping up with my Indian counterparts. I saw tele-series and movies of US of A imagining all the fun I'd be having at the beaches with the babes instead of slogging day-in and day-out with the books here. I think I got off the topic didn’t I? Oh yeah I did, lemme just get back to what I was saying.

So I grew up peacefully without ever inquiring about my birth nitty-gritty’s you know the time, the hospital et al. I knew for sure I was born in Meerut and on 21 May 1987 because that information was asked at school like a million times. The teachers asking us to even write essays every year on it.

“THE CITY OF MY BIRTH - MEERUT”

~Parv Kaushik

Well as a child I couldn't do much socio-politic-economic analysis of Meerut but I did quite manage to write something.  Everything else was of practically no importance since date was all you needed to read the Sunday horoscope in the Sunday Times.(Yes I'm a Gemini now tell me my lucky day, my lucky gem and my lucky number of the week) Or while doing a horoscope match with a dream date by reading Linda Goodman. (Wow she’s a Leo we can really hit it off.) Just that Linda Goodman never did me any good in getting me any of my dream dates.

So you get into this whole marriage tamasha and you realise doting parents asking you not your salary or education first but “What my son is you exact time of birth?” (Now I’m back to the topic.)

“Thou will telleth me the exact moment in time of thy delivery and if thy stars are in unification with my holy-est honourable-est daughter’s star thou shall answereth additional nuptial inquest.”

I’m just converting the modern lingo into Shakespearean lingo.

Only time I was interested in my time of birth was when I wanted to get even with a girl who shared my birth date but certainly not my wisdom of humility in one’s own superior endowment in intellect over the rest of dim-witted populace. She was haughty and egotistical and I had to make sure I was born before her even if by 10 minutes for in childhood such seniority means a lot. That girl today is a part of one of the Ivy League colleges in the US of A. While me on the other hand... I'm still counting humility and modesty as my No.1 virtue… Ahemm... Let’s again get back to the main topic.

So this is cheating right? You study all through your life, missing TV shows and cricket matches, slogging to reach somewhere in life and it turns out people are more interested in your time of birth than your marks. When somebody actually recoiled in horror telling me I’m a “mangalik” and remarked that I might be a threat to my prospective wife’s life I could not logically arrive at that conclusion.

My police records are clean, I haven't visited mental correction facility since 21 May 1987 (though a lot of friends will remark that I should), thankfully I have never been recommended for counselling by a psychologist, no person or eyewitness can remark that I have hurt anyone physically (shameful, since childhood I wanted to be a feared Don among other dreams).

I saw this advert of Windows 8 on tivo and this Pandit-ji asks the Aunty-ji if her daughter is a “mangalik” to which the poor woman recoils in horror denying it like a charge of paedophile has been slapped on her son.

I GOT CONCERNED, IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?

Am I psycho in the making? Am I sleepwalking at night and killing people at whim? The Dexter in me just was waiting for the dawn of wedding to wake up and then he will graduate to be a full-fledged cold blooded serial killer?   

My parents didn’t seem much concern with this fact. (Which caused more concern- do they know something and I don’t? are they hiding something from me?) They would give my janampatri to anyone who asked and say “Please check for yourself, if you are happy, content and satisfied we can talk further on more relevant topics like about your daughter’s interests.” Fascinatingly some people said I’m not a mangalik some said I was partial-mangalik all in all the debate has not yet been settled. Different sources quote differently.

This concluding paragraph I want to give a big moral lecture on how we should embrace modern thinking and not get too trapped in the old-conventional-orthodox mindset and move on with the evolution of science and technology. But yeah we all know that. Blah blah blah….

And frankly I’m getting late you see~ today is a Sunday. Let me check my horoscope first in all the newspapers then I have to do my online weekly tarot reading. (Chao)