Ding Ding Ding.
Time to embrace the primal panic clawing at your being. Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone are now married and you would think that we’d all be happy joes- true to tinkly fandom- downing spirits and raising toasts on the couple’s behalf, but our baser instincts are mad as a hatter and there is no escaping that!
In short, this is what transpired- the couple announced their wedding dates a while back and our mangled emotional doorways screamed bloody mur...betrayal.
Hearts somersaulted into frenzied shock and teary social media posts lamented the impending wedding with how-could-yous and cry-me-a-rivers.
Have mercy, young guns, the broken hearts cried out.
How could they have found 'THE ONE' in each other THIS soon? I mean, most of us haven't. And it is only fair that they vicariously keep living our glamorous myths for us- you know- the ideal ones that keep the ritzy bachelor/ette alive, divested of responsibility- as far away from marriage as possible?
This wedding wasn’t due for another fifteen to twenty years, a safe intervening period, by which time we too would have found our better halves, made peace with adulting and sufficiently...grown up?
Insecurity, they say, breeds solidarity. And when you don’t have enough people in your boat, you dive headlong into a bottomless pit of existential dread -there is something that is happening. And you are not a part of it.
Deepika and Ranveer- yes, you know- that aquiline nose, those fiery eyes-have now anointed themselves into the social order where marriage is a necessary rite of passage and we, who fancy them as our surrogate alter-egos of rebellion, aren't happy.
Ranveer, the very face of unreserved candour and mince-no-words subversion, is now no longer the viable millennial bachelor. Heartbreak.
Deepika, the seemingly flawless leading lady, is now off the market. Heartbreak.
''I am going to go underground now and cry for years.''
''These celebrity weddings are making both my mother and my unmarried *ss anxious for my bleak as f**k future.''
''No Ranveer, no, Deepika can wait. Give me 2 more years till I sort my life out!''
My grandmother is a feisty warlord when she is watching movies. Eyes glued to the screen, fingers sore from having clutched her seat too tightly,she refuses to take a toilet break and lashes out aggressively at anyone who tries to get a word in. She claims to know everything about her favourite celebrities.
If asked, she would gladly explain to you methodically why Hrithik and Suzanne’s marriage fell apart. The damn horoscopes, she had once exclaimed to me with a grimace. Clearly, she has willingly sewn celebrities into her daily grind. Along with the rest of us.
When she heard of Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh's upcoming wedding, she let out a small gasp with widened eyes and remarked with fidgety rage,''Even they are getting married. What about you?"
I wasn't surprised.
Celebrity weddings- how do I describe them? An invocation of the primordial urge to follow suit, grab at whatever semblance of similar joy life is serving you.
Anushka Sharma-Virat Kohli
Priyanka Chopra-Nick Jonas
Deepika Padukone-Ranveer Singh
And more to come...
The 'celebrity' and their 'aura' are our creations. Known not by their accomplishments, but by their image. They have tugged at our heartstrings while pirouetting on their heels, eyes ablaze and face impassioned. We have laughed with them, cried with them, and shared their joys and sorrows on-screen.
Does that justify our overwhelming investment in them- their personal and professional lives- more than in our own chickens?
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)