DigiVoyager

I have been meaning to make this entry for a while now. My first thought was to perhaps find a Fediverse instance with 1000 character limit, or something of the sort, perhaps even higher, haha.

But on reflection, I wanted to write just a tad more, making this a better fit.

Earlier, on Saturday, that is the 23rd of November, I went to my cousin's wedding. We're not that close, but generally attendance, and a small gift (money is usually the way, we do not have registries and the like) is considered mandatory at these things so I had to go. I, of course, did not take any gifts, since I assumed my parents would, being fond of my own money and all. I did not care to confirm that they did, for I wished to cover my bases, me asking may have lead to a no, why didn't you, and a negative outcome for self.

Anyways, back to the wedding itself, the old men mingled with other old men; sadly not wearing golf caps and plus sixes, no cool pipes either. They were, perhaps, talking of times long gone – times when the grass was more green than brown, the air not a near lethal dose of toxic smog equivalent to smoking 40 cigarettes in a day, and crime was the exception, rather than the norm. The invention of mobile phones has something to do with this. that most attractive and lucrative profession, phone snatching, would not be so rampant if we were still stuck with telephones. Imagine someone sticking you up at gunpoint, asking you to take them home, so they make take your telephone set – no one is going to risk it all and go to such lengths for something far cheaper than any phone.

One may wonder if wallet snatchers exist or not, the answer to which is simple. They do, but make up far less of the robber %, being that most of us walking the streets are poor, our wallets are similarly deprived of any meaningful cash for them. Thus, they have that other most attractive profession, that of robber who hangs around outside the ATM. The glint in the eyes of said robbers when they see someone vulnerable is something to behold, not unlike that of the look in one's own eyes when the PS2 finally avoids the dreaded red screen that accompanies an unreadable disc.

There are sadly not any Beyblade snatchers, though perhaps in one of the zillions of other timelines, there is a lil' DigiVoyager who turned to a life of crime, and decided he might as well get a Beyblade collection out of it, circa 2009. He probably has an account named DigiSurfer, or something to that effect and enjoys playing Grand Theft Auto 2, and only 2, because he is a hipster or something of the sort.

But back to the wedding, on the other side, the women mingled with other women, for weddings among us Pashtuns are generally segregated. There was much gossip, and nothing but gossip as my mother tells me, and people speaking of making matches between so and so's son, and this and that's daughter, while both of the aforementioned parties are enjoying university life, oblivious to this sudden axe hanging over their heads. I imagine it must be like taking a nice leisurely stroll on a nearby road, only to run into a wild leopard -also a thing that has happened to a few unfortunate souls here in Pakistan. I am told my name comes up often, first with an array of optimism – oh, he's a doctor, but then someone invariably mentions my salary; who first sourced my income, and then told the rest, I do not know, but my mother denies it so it was probably one of my aunts or cousins – then the conversation quickly turns to other names or women who are 40 and over, yet very wealthy.

Dear my aunts and cousins, I am not a gold digger, I do not know what caused you to imagine me so.

Now, there's a lot of showing off, pomp and festive merrymaking at these things, provided the festivities have been thrown by a middle class (or better) family. As we go up the economic ladder, the festivities get more and more luxurious, and segregation too, tapers off.

However, this one was a distinctly lower class affair. I am not mocking my cousin's status by the way, in case the thing may seem mean spirited or such, he and I are about the same economically as Goblin A and Goblin B in one of your role playing games, the mooks you beat up around the start of your game without even letting them get a hit in.

We sat in the tent, cold, I taking in the usual chat: Uncle A talks about how he purchased a rare WW2 rifle from so and so, uncle C reveal the rifle is a fake as he knows the seller only provides fakes, uncle A insists it must be a different fellow with the same name, uncle C opens his Facebook profile, uncle A curses, uncle B tries to sneak an extra plate in the heat of the moment, uncle D talks of how he plans on finally purchasing that dream car but his own progress in that matter is about the same as mine in getting that coveted Panda Trueno, that is to say he and I are about as close to owning a car as this country is to fixing itself.

If any time travelers are reading, I wish to know: Does he ever get the car? I can make peace with me not getting one, but I am too invested in his tale.

Back to the class matter, our weddings during winter are not ones you want to attend. We are not the class of family that rents out wedding halls, these events take place in tents, and you can probably imagine how cold it gets. For warmth, there are a few fires lit here and there, you sit down by them if you are feeling cold. If there are ever any portable heaters or the like, all of them always go to the women's side.

This is never an issue in middle class or better weddings. For photography and recording, many families hire drone photographers and the like, but here we had just one photographer, a friend of my cousin's with a DSLR. This, by the way, is a rule of getting by in Pakistan. If you know anyone with a DSLR, befriend them instantly. I wonder if these DSLR fellows ever get burgeoning existential crises where they wonder if people care about them or their camera more.

When the thing is done, there are photos at the end. The bride and groom sit on a sofa, and families go in turn to take photos with them, pretending to have a nice conversation and such. I generally never take part in these things. Many feel it is shyness, or some other reason. In my own view, the crux of the matter seems to lie in me not really being close to my relatives, it feels rather like a case of impostor syndrome, I've never really had any bonding moments with them, nor they me, and to appear in these would feel not only wrong, but also so as to be cheapening their memories. This does seem like a rather odd tangent to go off on, but I do wonder what it feels like on the other side. I imagine people just keep photos of people they like, and get rid of the rest. But do they also feel that cheapening, or is it just me?

Perhaps they are too happy, too euphoric to care, like Uncle B, sneaking off to where the rice is being made, claiming he needs some more plates for misters X, Y and Z, who remain as unaware of his deeds as they were 20 years ago.

Still, I would love to photograph one of these events one day, the raw authenticity one sees is something else. I wish to take wedding photos, and someday soon I may, if I ever get my camera. For the moment, it is about as close as Uncle D's car.