“Papa’s boy”

" Papa's Boy"???? Am I???

A humorous take on Shayan Munshi's attempt to leave the country for his honeymoon, accompanied by his dad.

Finally FinOne of my old acquaintances got married last week (I am not gonna take names of anyone anymore; don’t want to be skinned and salted alive at this age)… And marriage it was!!! I was there attending his baraat; the groom was riding an elephant for a change problem occurred during the return of the baraat when the bride in question refused to mount the elephant. So it was the Elephant owner, my friend and his 10 year old nephew riding on the journey back. For around half an hour we all followed the elephant but then it got quiet boring and slow so everyone instead thought of moving on and wait for the groom at his place.

But we are not discussing his elephant ride here what was interesting for me was that he took his dad for his honeymoon – “My daddy strongest” or “Momma knows it all” kind of sons and daughters are not that rare in India they come in all ages, shapes and size. I have friends whom if you ask “yeh tera baap hai ??” they will retort all fired up “ Woh mere baap nahi mere papa hai”.

I know them and I accept them as useless gifts of god, the groom in question is one of them. but what still intrigues me is why he took his dad along for the honeymoon. I can understand that it was his dad who first explained the mysteries of the birds and the bees to the son – though, going by my experience with nowadays cosmopolitan son, the son would have done a better job of explaining this to the dad. But why do you need your dad on your honeymoon? Hasn’t he got to be the ultimate kabab-mein-haddi?

I can imagine the first night in the resort when the happy young couple are enjoying a romantic dinner – somewhat spoiled no doubt by the presence of the aged father trying to become part of the décor, whenever the young wife tries to seduce her husband. After the wonderful dinner, lubricated by vintage wines made from contented grapes, the young pair repairs to the bedroom. The door closes.

We cut to the bedroom scene. The wife has demurely draped herself in her sexiest nightwear; she reclines fetchingly on the bed, with a come-hither look in her smoldering eyes. The husband is torn between two desires – joining his wife on the bed and turning the lamp down low; and running to the door from time to time, and taking advice from his dad, who is dutifully crouched on the other side of the door, with a sheaf of notes in his left hand, and a ear-trumpet in his right.

One can almost overhear the conversation between father and son.

“Right, dad. We have been kissing each other and doing what you called… foreplay, right, got that word finally. So, we have been doing this foreplay thing for some time now. And now the time has come for the real thing.”

“Right, son. You have the condom with you?”

“Yes, dad. Now I have opened the pack, and I will put it on.”

“Make sure you put it on your… you know. Not on your thumb, like you did during your practise run before marraige. You got that?”

“Yeah, I think I got it on right? Papa ek baar dekhoge? You wanna see it to check?”

“NO! You stupid fool! I just hope you have got it on at the right place – (stage whisper: I thought the young kids knew better than having to ask about that, and on their honeymoon too!)”

A period of silence follows, punctuated by amorous sounds from the bride. The dad has a look of relief on his face. Then, he hears a gentle knock on the door:

“Hey, dad! You there?”

“Now what?”

“Well, I got it in all right – she seems to know quite a bit about it you know, that really helped. What do I do next?

“Whaddaya mean, what do I do next??! How many times I have told you – remember what I told you about the car engine and the piston moving in the chamber? Well, that’s what you gotta do, you idiot!”

“Yeah, right – I completely forgot!”

What follows is guaranteed to make any fond father think lovingly of the virtues of human sacrifice.

“Vroom vroom! Vroooooooooooooooom! Vroom!” – accompanied by the sounds of a car changing gears, as done by a small kid.

Let us end our eavesdropping here. Let us draw a veil on the old man sitting on one side of the door of the honeymoon suite, with his head buried in his hands, and a look of dull despair on his face. Let us also draw another veil on the young bride, who sits on the bed looking in growing desperation at this creature that runs between the bed and the door on this most special of all nights. Let us draw one more veil on the young man who sits happily on the bed emulating the sounds of a Ferrari going round Monza during a Grand Prix like the way papa was trying to say.

We draw the curtain on this unhappy episode in the life of all your newly weds wives of these kinds. May god relive these damsels from the urge to kill their brand new spouses on the very first night.

Amen