The TamBrahms' hot favourite - PAPPU CAN'T DANCE, SALA !

I have n't been to a wedding since a few months now. Parents wanted me to attend one today, though. Some close family friends of ours. TamBrahms.
On mom's demand, I return from college at 6pm and head for the marriage venue by 7. ( Parents give up on me and go an hour earlier to the venue). I have all the time in the world ( unlike my dear, super-panicky mother) and I patiently wait for 10 minutes at the bus stop and catch a 374 to Vile Parle.
I enter the marriage hall, and I wonder for a second if I've landed up at the wrong place. But no, I spot my mom there !
What greets me is a blast of music.
Very near the entrance, a group of saree-clad mamis and veshti-clad mamas danced to PAPPU CAN'T DANCE, SALA ! The group looked terribly excited, while the poor saastrigaL ( pundits ) looked on, helplessly and bored.
The dance group would periodically keep an eye out for possible options to victimise onlookers. Every few minutes, a new shy mami or a reluctant mama would get dragged onto the 'dance floor'. This protesting mami / mama would then perform some extremely ridiculous, thoroughly embarrased jig and run off at the first possible opportunity, having satisfied the excited dancers and thus having generated some laughter.
A suitable DJ is quickly appointed from amongst the lot of relatives, who scans through lists of songs from several CDs and changes the track at the most inappropriate, offbeat points. This is followed by disapproval from the crowds, but the frustration is shortlived because the new song more than makes up for the uncomfortable, untimely switch between songs ! "Nagada Nagada" is next, while "Crazy Kiya re" and "Mauja hi Mauja" follow.
Finally, the best of them all, " Zara zara touch me" ( that sidey,miserable Katrina Kaif song) is played. And WHOA ! All the mamas are suddenly excited !!! New mamas step onto the dance floor, old ones get a sudden burst of energy, while several even attempt to waltz with their shy wives ! The group then attempts a quick mix of jive/salsa /ballet/ Bhangra and God-knows-what-other forms of dance.
I had a great time ROFLing around.
Needless to say, I was hiding, careful not to get spotted and victimised by the dance group. Mom did try to damage my efforts, by calling out to me loud enough for half the world to hear, but I was quick to escape. And today, I can bravely declare , head held high up in the air - I'm proud of my abilities of recognizing imminent dangers, changing locations and figuring out new hiding places when required.

Anyway, today was the engagement day, and hence dinner was the typical South-Indian one. Sambar, Rasam, Curd with some five hundred million curries, complete with some much talked about payasam. ( The mamis, ofcourse, religiously performed a complete post-mortem of the dinner, as if it had some shocking variety to present. While all I did was concentrate on eating as fast as I could.)
In the meantime, rice and sambar had already been thrown over my plate( uhm... a leaf ), and I realised it was an emergency - I HAD to finish it off before more food was hurled onto the 'leaf'. I panicked, increased my speed, but in vain - the Rasam guy was already hovering around my table, watching, WAITING to load my 'leaf' with more food. I tell him "No, thanks", skip Rasam and heave a huge sigh of relief at the thought of having bought myself more time to eat.
These meals, more often than not, are like extremely lengthy examinations. Something like an IEM or a Software Engineering paper, where you need to race against time.
Tomorrow is the Muhurtham and the Reception, so I'l blog later if I have more stories.