fashion of the times, always

Last week I attended a cremation of a friends father who passed away after living a life of honor and dignity and a complete life loved by his family, friends and society .I am currently on temporary migration from the heartland of Punjab to Chandigarh just like my avian friends who end up coming every year in smaller numbers. In fact, the climate weather has changed their flying patterns and I wonder now about the change in the rapid modernization of the city. Over the past few years the change has happened so fast that its left me zapped.

The cremation ground was so different from the one in the village. I know this is a morbid subject but the glaring differences stand out and have just been in my mind since that day. Everything was dignified, controlled and the family was obviously suffering, the universal moment makes all of us realize how fragile life is and the balance. However, what I found strange was the fact that a lot of people were wearing dark glasses, shades or glares choose your terminology (it actually will reflect your class in society, I am told). The fact that men and women needed to shade themselves and shy away from the one and only universal truth made me realize how deluded they all were.

The expensive shades shielding them, and providing a protective façade from the harsh and bitter truth made me pity them.

Death is the only leveler, it doesn’t spare the poor or the rich or the super rich. And, then all of them acted; mind you this was a crowd of forty year olds, who didn’t want to admit they were 40. 40 are the new 30 or whatever Vogue or Cosmo is trying to sell you as a feel good mantra. They all stood on the sides when kirtan was going, and completely quiet when the ritualistic path was going on. If, one is not able to say the prayers, because I was a Sikh and I dint know the Hindu path, that was understandable but to not know your own, because it was too desi or pendu to recite them or to even admit that one knew them, surely smacks of a soul of confusion.

Religion and furthermore spirituality is what is our core strength and has been our hidden strength, losing it to be quasi –modern or to show that one is so modern hiding behind the black tights and ill fitting dress curving the bulges with a scarf in muted colors to show solidarity but with perfect base, foundation and winged eyeliner made me realize I was a misfit.

In fact, it didn’t stop there; there were many women with suits worn with the matching pastel, jamawar, kani shawls. However, this was nothing, the final day reminded me of a Karan Johar set, women all manicured, pedicured, perfectly creased khadi silk suits in shades which even Gandhiji didn’t imagine. The creams, whites, black, greys with subtle embroidery and the perfect shawls that seemed to be made for the suit and not the other way around. In fact, the perfect make up and eye shadow that was evident of the palette of Nars. I realized there is a way to sit also, in perfect alignment to the kirtan and to have this divine expression on your face as if your third eye had also opened, some were in sync with the whatsapp, one smart lady behind me was reading a book on her phone, and some sat straight with the perfect crease of the duppatta framed by the shawl, hair falling gently on the face profiling the best features.

This was all in such great contrast to my home back home, where everyone sat all close to each other, one heard the waheguru said aloud, and some women singing with the shabads being read out, and it was a sacrilege to have lipstick or any make up, colors are always plenty but all heads covered with the white chunni symbolizing mourning.

It’s not meant to be sanctimonious s, nor do I want to be egoistical in putting myself on a higher plateau, I just feel that the older traditions and practices of our elders were better. We all adhered to them. Wearing simpler, clothes minus the drama and the tension of getting a new outfit tailored wasn’t in the scheme of things. Men also had it easier, a kurta pajama would work with a shawl, now it’s the blazer, trousers and somehow they all want to wear bright colored socks, some are so bright that they must be channeling some inner Diva!

Jokes apart, this race of foremanship, is so prevalent and the sad part it doesn’t even spare death. To use Professor Snape, Always .