Among the many names the city has, Bangalore is also known as the ‘Garden City’. But you would be surprised to know that this city – during the time which Tipu Sultan fought fierce battles with the British – was a barren land. To know more about the evolution of our city’s colourful gulmohurs, jacarandas and the many rain trees read my article - ‘Bangalore: how it became Green’ – published in Chillibreeze.
(Image Courtesy: Wikimedia.org)
My blog posts had somewhat temporarily stalled. The reason was simple. There was a marriage – my brother-in-law’s – around the corner. I was gently advised not to take up any ‘new work coming my way’, until THE events were over.
In the last few months not a day has passed without a talk about the impending event. My brother-in-law liked this girl and they had finally announced it to the elders. You’d think its simple, but that’s when the ‘Project Wedding’ starts. I have tried to unfold the event’s highlights.
‘First Meeting’: There was the first ‘meeting’ of the ‘other’ family. An event in itself where families assess each other, praise their respective children and the talk invariably turns to setting the date, booking a choultry (marriage hall) etc.
Shopping: Sarees, jewellery, invitations, suits or dresses for everyone in the family and the cousins, relations etc were painstakingly chosen over the next few weeks. It takes quite a bit of financial juggling to go on such sprees – especially if you have made wise investments and do not want to break a fixed deposit even if the ‘Gold rate’ is low. Any new item that is not necessarily required for the marriage – e.g. an Ipod – is postponed until the ‘wedding is over’.
Visitors: There were visitors to the house every week. Aunties who wanted to ’see’ the sarees – silk for the girl, and her mother, cotton silk for elderly matrons – and jewellery – the diamond ring, thali, necklace etc. They were also updated on the ‘latest news’ from the ‘girl’s’ family – E.g. ‘her mother had called to finalise on the lunch menu’, ‘her grandmother slipped & fell’ etc. Uncles were more interested about the girl than the shopping. The story of how their boy met the girl was narrated umpteen times. Sometimes the males do appreciate the shopping and it can lead to some peculiar situations. Looking back, I don’t know how I kept a straight face when a male cousin held a ‘lehenga’ (skirt) to his waist while appreciating the design and assessing its weight.
As the D-day arrived, meticulous planning was done to the last minute detail. All ‘what-if’ situations had backup plans charted out.
Marriage: The ‘baraat’ (I use the more commonly known North Indian term here) was welcomed the previous evening at the choultry by the girl’s side. The marriage was early next day. A ‘reception’, that generally follows the marriage, had been thankfully cancelled as both the families decided against it.
As the boy’s ‘relations’ we were garlanded and invited in. What followed was general conversation among the relations while the boy and the girl were herded off by the family ‘priests’ (there was one from either side). The same scene was re-enacted on the day of marriage – with more guests. Here’s a bird’s eye view of what happens generally in a South Indian marriage. The couple mumbles whatever the priest dictates, while the guests make polite conversations. Usually the ladies catch up on the latest news in the family and the gentlemen talk about politics or cricket.
Of course, as the immediate family, we had a lot of work. One was always stationed near the priest to provide whatever he asks for. One played the role of a host urging everyone to have a good time and handing over ‘tambula’ (coconut) while I was asked to go around offering ‘kumkum’ and ‘blouse piece’ to all female guests in the hall.
Once the ‘tying the knot’, that signifies & sanctifies the marriage, was over there was a flurry of guests to the mandapam to hand over the gifts so that they can go for lunch. Here again there was one stationed to collect the gifts from the harried couple. At last, when we did have lunch, it was time to pack up and clear the hall.
I now know why Hindus ‘get married only once in a lifetime’.
