“I need time to do all these! Why would someone suddenly ask his in-laws about their full names and date of births?” I typed furiously. I swear i could feel the screen of my phone denting.
“How could you not know your parent-in-law’s full name? What a bad child you are! We need it to prepare the invitation cards!” My mother’s recorded strong voice echoed in my car, as soon as I pressed on the ‘play’ button beside her reply message.
“We haven’t even decided the date of the reception! What are you inviting people to?!” Unable to hold my anger, I finally recorded my furious voice for a reply.
It was a mess of a debate, between a religious mother and a frustrated scholar.
It yielded an obvious outcome, but I chose to not budge because I couldn’t allow it to continue.
It started when my mother knew about my engagement, and I told them my plan of getting married few weeks before that argument. Like a clap of thunder, it revived my Frankenstein of a mom to immediately involve herself in deciding my wedding plans. So, she did what most Chinese Taoist mother would do:
She consulted a medium to ‘calculate’ the best day of the wedding, and the date given was the 6th of June 2021.
She restlessly searched for any advice regarding the ‘protocol’ of a traditional wedding ceremony and kept reminding me of the countless prerequisites and responsibilities in it. It was my starting few weeks in JB. I was tired, trying to adapt to my new life, while constantly bombarded by the pressure of hasty but sophisticated marriage plans.
For me, “Hasty but sophisticated” is an understatement, “mystical with no sense of human logic” will be more appropriate.
Being meticulous and anxious, my mother is a strong devotee of Chinese traditional teachings. The tradition depicts ( I will add in some of my understanding on the matter since I’m still considering myself a scientific person) :
1. Choice of a wedding date is better to be decided by a medium who specializes in calculating dates using the Lunar calendar, our birth times and dates, with mathematic formulae that baffles modern mathematicians, who have no proper understanding of the recipients’ needs, such as job requirements, living difficulties, financial constraints, beliefs, and daily routine. Also, they seem not to know that THERE’S A FREAKING PANDEMIC HAPPENING!!
2. Items to prepare for a wedding ceremony, as an exchange of gifts includes a wide variety, which most of them technologically redundant to use in daily life and no other purpose than to just buy it, present it, and keep it at the groom’s home to occupy his living space. The long list includes: a red towel, a red tea set, a red Chinese-hand-fan, a red baby plastic bathtub, a red potty, an extravagantly not comfortable bed set, etc etc, which amount to a thousand ringgit to precure.
3. Registration of marriage is not as important as the Chinese wedding ceremony. Only by going thru the customs of a long 3 day battle of constant makeup, grooming, following rules by other people, telling the whole world and wish for their blessings, and finally end with an overly expensive dinner with half of the hundreds of people I don’t even know they existed, THEN ONLY, you are considered married.
4. On the due date, the groom expected to move at a very specific timing of the day, usually early in the morning, along with a handful of his best mates, to go to the bride’s house, only to be met with a closed door and opposition of the bride’s family and friends. To gain ‘access’, the groom’s side will be tested on their devotion by playing multiple games, which at times inflict pain and shame. Not to mention that the groom is expected to hand out angpau like a charity event. I thought we agreed to get married that day? What’s the deal with the tests?
So my mother had a vision, to see me baffling everyone with my beautiful and glamorous wife, walking down the aisle in my army suit.
Yeah, good one. Did you forget the mask? It’s worth 1500 ringgit a fine nowadays for breaching social distancing protocol, you know?
So the argument at the start of this story ended with my brother calling each of us to calm down, telling me to just allow my mom to do what she wants. After all, she did it for me.
Well, I’m not going to argue with that, but not because he is right, I just think that I have made my point across.
1 month later, I sealed the deal. Signed me to be my lovely wife’s lawful husband. It was an awesome experience.
Well, it did not quench anything. Rather, it started a storm, one in my mother’s heart driven by the urge to see his firstborn holding an extravagant wedding, receiving smiles and blessings from all our friends and relatives.
“Too risky,” I said, annoyed being surrounded by my relatives. They were not giving any constructive opinions. Rather, they were just supporting whatever sentences that came out of my parent’s mouth. For better or worse, the meeting held in my grandmother’s massive guest area was split into 3 teams:
Me and my grandma: who believe in safety above all. We stand for simplicity, ease, and not to rush ourselves. There’s a pandemic, I’m a government doctor, my exam is coming up, and I live at another side of the country. It will be impossible to plan a wedding in 3 months.
My mother and youngest aunt: who was enthusiastic about seeing me married, wanted it to be flawless, glamorous, and fast. Apparently, the registration was not enough for them. They defended for ‘tradition’ and ‘a good show’. For whatever reason that is…
There’s my father: who previously kept his silence between the crossfire, was turned the judge. He took the seat at the long end of the huge wooden table (which he always does), overlooking the crowd with stern cold eyes (which is what he always does). He stared at us ‘discussing’ while holding the thick lunar calendar in his hands, contemplating the best course of action.
There were 6 more people on that discussion, serving the role as mere audience and showing support to my parent’s input.
“I’m not sure if it’s doable,” I plead while staring up at the rotating fan above. The white ceiling in the background was more pleasant than my relatives’ anxious stare, “There’s still a chance that the pandemic will worsen. Even now I am scheduled to do shifts in Covid ward…”
“But the date is the best! The medium chose that date for you! There are many other couples who get married on that day! Can’t you make the adjustment?” My mom anxiously replied.
I don’t know why others were nodding to that statement. I suppose they can see the reason behind it, however irrelevant and incoherent that sounded to me.
“Can’t we change the date? It’s Sunday, everyone will have a hard time traveling. I will have to rush back to Johor right after the wedding.” I refuted.
“7th is The King’s birthdate. We can change.” my dad finally spoke, after a long 10 minutes of listening.
“We can?” my mom looked at her husband, who is unlike us, composed.
He then whipped out the calendar, flipped it to the 5th of Jun, then pointed at the description box below the date. It wrote in Chinese:
“Good for marriage.”
Yes, even our calendar has a fortune-telling function. So in the cultural sense, my mother is not the weird one, I am.
Then he flipped it again to 6th, “bad date- not recommended for any ceremony”.
I almost shouted out, “In Your Face!” but of course I restrained myself. I just smacked my lips and acted as though I’m shocked. Besides, I understood what my dad was trying to do. Being a man of the military, he is not a believer in the mystics. It’s the King’s birthday, he will be expected to lead his troops for celebration. He too needed a break. But he too knew there’s no good in testing my mom’s devotion. Instead of arguing his way into it using science as I did, he spent 10 minutes in silence looking for anything that could shake my mom’s belief: in this case, was the conflict of statements between the schools of mystics: the fortune teller, and the calendar printing company (I don’t believe in either, so judge all you want.)
My mom was stunned, “Wha- How? I thought the medium said…”
“What can I say? I chose to believe in mass publication over a word from a single person.” He answered with a poker face, “Besides, if we chose to do it on the 6th, we will face many problems. We already have to rush things along to prepare in 3 months, with so much uncertainty, I think it will be sensible to choose a date where everyone is comfortable to return home.”
“I-I guess so…” My mother’s confusion made her agreed to my father’s immediate suggestion.
So the meeting ended with a slight change of date, still in a rush, but a rather satisfying experience. I was doubtful about the probability of success, but knowing that the fortune teller will be told that we chose to change the date, priceless.
My satisfaction was immediately extinguished by a call from my dad a week later, when I returned back to JB:
“I think the date is OK, we will do it on the 6th, because the arrangements can be done easier that way.” My dad said with a rigid tone. He sounded like he rehearsed it, reluctantly.
Then my mom’s voice followed, “Well, aside from that because the fortune teller said it really is a very good date.” She sounded worried. I supposed letting my dad do the opening was a way for her to avoid any more conflict between us.
“That fortune-teller is uncle, right? They are not happy with the changes we made?” I finally asked. My tone was as rigid as my dad’s. I supposed we were both too tired to argue any further.
“Y-yes…” My mom’s voice turned weak. I guess she was too, tired like us. She tried to explain their actions further, but I no longer pay attention to it, since it was only a repetition of what we know.
Is that what this is? A show of ego? Turns out the fortune-teller we decided to consult in good faith is one of our own, our family. Weirdly enough, we chose to change our date driven by our real-life difficulties, which has been interpreted as a rude gesture towards them. They aren’t happy? What the hell does that have to do with my family? What are they trying to prove? Is ‘Tradition’ meant to be used as an excuse to prove that a fortune teller has more justification than a medical doctor? They know nothing about our situation, yet they can afford to give me disapproval?
What a shame, even with my mountain loads of logical reasons, I can’t beat a fortune-teller being ‘unhappy’ with my choice.
“OK,” I answered simply, “we do it your way.”
Without much of a follow-up, I hung up the phone.
My wife tried to cheer me up. Fortunately, she tried her best to follow the plan. It was a rush, a reluctant one, but we enjoyed every bit we spent time doing it together.
Then, the reality struck, almost like nature’s ‘I told you so”.
“Why are we even doing this? Are we even doing this for ourselves? Do they understand the risks we need to take?” She asked a few days before the new MCO, in tears, pleading me to put an end to the pointless struggle. At that moment, we both knew the Covid situation was worsening, and there was no chance that the 6th of Jun will be spared by the MCO.
“You have to weigh your options, Thong,” my Head of Department’s voice lingered in my mind, “You are a government doctor as well as a soldier part-time, what would the public make of if you chose to hold a wedding amidst of the pandemic crisis?”
“One photo and my career will be jeopardized,” I sounded firm when I made the call to my dad the next day. To my surprise, he immediately agreed to call off the wedding.
I guess he was waiting for my call all along.
“What about mom?” I asked curiously.
“It will be fine. I will talk to her.” He briefly replied.
And so, it ended with the landing of the new MCO. Everything has to be put on hold. All our preparation: the props, the wedding photos, the applied leave are now staggered but paid. The invitations have to be canceled one by one.
6th of Jun my ass.
Dr Vie Cheong Thong M.D. 