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A teenager I know attended a fabulous party in the city some weeks ago. It was held in a serviced apartment rented specially for the occasion. In the run-up to the event, the host created a WhatsApp group to post increasingly excitable updates. And on D-Day, the bash had everything the 50 young guests, all teens, could wish for — from a DJ to play requests, a dance floor, caterers laying out a spread, to a photo booth to practise their pouts and smirks. And, oh yes, the dress code was black.
T, a good friend of mine, also went to a grand party recently. The venue was a well-lit lawn, there was a tattoo artist on hand, tarot-card reading, a magic show and even bungee jumping. There were diverse dishes, catering to everyone’s tastes.
A tale of two cities
The two parties were held in two different cities, Bengaluru and Coimbatore. But they had something in common — they were meant to showcase significant moments in two girls’ lives. And both girls were the main attraction at their parties. The Bengaluru one was a Sweet Sixteen party, a coming-of-age event held for a beloved 16-year-old by her doting parents. Each young guest went home with a ‘return gift’ of chocolates embossed with the girl’s name.
The Coimbatore one was, to put it baldly, a puberty party, for a young girl, who had just got her period. “She looked about 11 or 12 years of age. The event was like a wedding reception, the girl was dressed like a bride, there were outdoor photo shoots… the only thing missing was the groom,” recalls T, my Coimbatore-based friend who attended the function.
It happened back then, too.
Critics of ‘puberty parties’ decry the ostentation, the expense, the obvious celebration of and fascination with the girl’s fertility, and of course, the menstrual taboos associated with this biological event.
Puberty parties, which is what I call them for alliterative irony, have been traditionally held in certain communities across Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Assam. In some cases, the bedecked and bejewelled belles of the ball do enjoy their moment in the spotlight. Sometimes they don’t. C, a Tamilian friend and mother of two teenage girls, tells me that she did not enjoy the occasion at all when it was her turn. So, when her daughters hit puberty, she chose to mark the event privately. “I definitely did not want a big public function,” she says.
M, a mother-of-two in Bengaluru, who also hails from Tamil Nadu, went through a grand puberty ceremony when she was a young girl. “Those days, for parents, I think it was an expression of happiness — because it indicated that the girl was of a ‘marriageable’ age. This function enabled them to let everyone else know. It was a way to attract good ‘alliances’, and it showed her family’s capabilities too,” M points out. After marriage, M lived in the U.S. for 13 years and is now based in Bengaluru. “For my own daughter — I also have a younger son — I decided not to do any such thing. In fact, today my biggest worry is how she will manage her periods in school. Also, today’s youngsters are quite open about their likes and dislikes. Why make a big thing out of something every girl experiences, M stresses.
However, not everyone agrees. Today, the function is not just a lavish affair — sometimes in smaller communities’, hoardings are set up announcing the event, with photographs of the girl at the centre of it all. And thanks to the social media, these are also captured for eternity on film and video and put up on the internet. Why, there are several professionally produced videos on YouTube under titles such as ‘puberty ceremony’, ‘half-saree ceremony’, and so on.
There may not have been social media 30 years ago, but my cousin P, mother of the teen who attended the afore-mentioned Sweet Sixteen party, hails from Ooty (Udhagamandalam, Tamil Nadu). She remembers attending her friends’ puberty parties. “They were grand affairs even then. The girl was always much feted and received many gifts,” she tells me, a trifle wistfully.
That is because, being Malayalees, my cousin and I never experienced it ourselves. In my case, growing up in Kozhikode, Kerala, puberty was when it dawned on me that the word ‘period’ actually had a connotation other than the one in ‘science period’ or ‘maths period’. Naturally, my friends and I would giggle each time one of us said the word out loud. It didn’t help that the convent we studied in promptly showed us clinical films (projected onto a white wall) demonstrating the use of sanitary pads (complete with mandatory blue liquid stains). And in college, as part of sex education classes, we were treated to graphic videos showing the medical termination of pregnancies. Naturally, the experience left us shaken, sick to our hearts, and determined to never have sex, period!
Whether sex education in schools has improved is something to be debated and discussed in detail. But I do know that today the puberty ritual is a hugely contentious issue. In fact, there is a well-written article on the online portal Women’s Web that questions its relevance in this day and age .
Many critics feel that puberty rituals and puberty parties need to be done away with, entirely. They decry the ostentation involved, the expense, the obvious celebration of and fascination with the girl’s fertility, and of course, the menstrual taboos associated with this biological event.
Criticise one, celebrate the other?
There is nothing taboo, however, about the Sweet Sixteen party. But this too is a coming-of-age tradition, an event held to commemorate a significant life event. It is, however, not Indian in origin. Sweet Sixteens are special occasions in the U.S., and these, in turn, hark back to the Mexican quinceañera (a girl who celebrates her 15th birthday). Sweet Sixteens, unlike puberty parties, are crowd-pleasers.
Did you know that these are must-do events today across Chennai, Mumbai, Pune, Delhi, Kolkata and of course, namma Bengaluru? In fact, there are party planners aplenty to help you with venues (resorts are considered ideal), themes (how about a masquerade, something Comic Con-related or from the teen’s favourite Netflix/Hotstar serial), or Pinterest boards for further inspiration.
And then there’s the food.
A quick perusal of “most popular Sweet Sixteen party venues” in Bengaluru informs me that rates for food alone can range from ₹200 to ₹2,000 per person, depending on whether it is veg or non-veg. So, guests can tuck into Jain food, vegetarian food, healthy versions of junk food, fusion food — paneer lollipops, vegan Thai curry tacos, naan-chicken pizza, anyone? For drink, you could sip on Aam Panna Mojitos or Basil and ginger limeade. And parties with 50 guests or more get group discounts.
So, you can safely say, Sweet Sixteen parties are very contemporary and completely cosmopolitan. To know more, look these up on YouTube.
Different, yet same same
Both puberty ceremony videos and Sweet Sixteen parties get thousands of views. However, one seems to attract comments from viewers utterly critical of the whole thing; the other invariably leads to gushing praise and envious exclamations such as, “Where did you get that dress!”
Why do we, as a people, revile one thing so much and revel in the other? Why is one ceremony considered so trendy and must-do, while the other tradition is called out as trashily public? Yet, both are deeply rooted in commemorating femininity, both are a rite of passage, both mark the transition to womanhood. Is it just a culture thing wherein the western trend is cool and the local custom uncool?
Is it the very ‘public’ display so evident in the puberty ceremonies that is oh-so-slightly distasteful? But the Sweet Sixteeen videos that I saw were every bit as splashy, yet these are so popular with the swish set. So, is it because one event spotlights an idea we are squeamish about?
Is it that one is embedded in a tradition where feminine biology is hoisted on an uncomfortable pedestal while the other masks it with light-hearted revelry? Is it a social stratum thing or just another example of the age-old tussle between the traditional and the modern — the old and the new? Or is it just plain old hypocrisy?
