Loss of fufaji’s exalted prestige!

Weddings in the times of Covid have become small affairs. The proverbial ‘big fat Indian wedding’ is passe. One of our friends solemnised their daughter’s wedding during the lockdown. Having got movement passes for just the immediate family, the aunts and uncles were not invited. Guess who got bugged? It seems fufaji (bua’s husband) felt insulted! Why couldn’t the wedding be postponed? How could they have a wedding without us? Have they forgotten that I am the eldest son-in-law of the family?

This reminded me of my Dad, who had a great sense of humour. He used to say that it’s very common for the son-in-law’s ego to get bruised and create a scene at family weddings. Traditionally, the son-in-law of the house or the jamai raja was supposed to be the super VIP of the house.

Daddy would often joke that on all auspicious occasions, we do navgrah puja; thereafter we should honour the son-in-law as the dashamgrah (10th planet), because if the son-in-law is in a bad mood, the celebrations would be marred by tension. So it’s best to placate him before attending to other guests. This was, of course, said in jest.

When a girl gets married, her husband is called jamai — short form of jam-jam-aayi, meaning come again and again; you are welcome to our house. So the son-in-law is treated as a farishta and is inundated with love and respect. He is fed on the choicest of delicacies, seated on the best sofa, given the best room to sleep in, listened to with awe, etc. The son-in-law naturally gets used to being treated as a demi-god. But as time passes, things change.

After some years, the other children of the family grow up. The elder son-in-law is now respectfully referred to as jijaji. His frequent coming and going into the house may not be much appreciated, but all the smirks and quirks are undercover. Now, everyone continues with their thing, while jijaji sits in a corner, waiting for someone to find time to listen to his wisecracks.

Jijaji translates to jee aye te aa; jee aye te jaa, meaning come if you feel like, and go if you wish to. The undertone says that we are busy doing our own thing. You can come and go as you please, but we can’t leave everything to attend to your highness!

Some years hence, the next generation gets married and the status of our man is upgraded to fufa. In Punjabi they say ‘he has a lot of foon-faan (hot air in head)!’ The foo-fa then walks around in his foon-faan, trying to garner the attention that was once his rightful privilege. He is still full of ego, but now no one bothers!

Hearing about the fufaji whose feathers got ruffled by not being invited to the Covid wedding made me laugh. If you are a jamai, jija or fufa — or have either of them visiting you — just enjoy and share the hilarity. Because everyone deserves to laugh!