In the taxonomy of traditional Indian families, my maternal grandmother Ama, was an accidental matriarch. Ironically, this mother of nine was pushed into that unenviable position by her own patriarchal Kumaoni Brahmin community after the sudden and untimely death of her husband. She had had little formal education and her command over English was also somewhat shaky. But when Ama spoke about tradition, she usually had solid facts and wisdom on her side. Marriages, one of her famous quips was, may have been conceived in heaven but since they have to be solemnised here on earth, it is pointless to expect divine help in finding a perfect match for one’s child. Look at King Janaka of Mithila, the most learned astrologer and a scholar of his time. And did he foresee when he married his daughter Sita to a crown prince, she would be exiled to a forest not once but twice by the Ayodhyawallahs? And Ram, her husband, universally acknowledged as the divine incarnation of Lord Vishnu, would just look on?
Illustration: Pariplab Chakraborty
No, Ama said, we mortals must fall on our own resources and an occasional use of guile and subterfuge to check in on the candidates’ income and family money – that alone would keep their girl safe should there be, god forbid, some unforeseen development in the future.
Ama did not know Marilyn Monroe but she’d have concurred with her celebrated song about diamonds being a girl’s best friend!
Looking at the mind boggling display of affluence and socio-political clout at the recent pre-wedding ceremonials of the scion of one of India’s richest and his young bride-to-be, Ama’s quips came to mind. Their ancestral town is not the first small town to have a spectacular wedding. There have been similar glittering (though less expensive) weddings organised by various cash-rich oligarchs, Bollywood mega stars, Indian cricketers and politicians. Usually celebrated in exotic locales and Indian resorts and/or abroad. For one particular wedding, a historic palace in France was booked and chefs and guests ferried in private jets from India and other countries. They’ve all magnified the myth of India having come up in the world as a rich, exotic and happening place for its moneyed and powerful.
But the phobias, the neurotic timidities and aggression that guide finding a good match from Ama’s era till now, remain intact. Indians of all classes are by and large still wary, if not totally outraged, by the thought of their young choosing their own partners on the basis of something as tawdry as love. There are apocryphal reports about ‘honour’ killings, rise in domestic abuse and divorces, but weddings are ironically getting fatter and celebrations more and more elaborate. Come wedding season and among the middle classes glittering wedding invites pile up. No more a simple handwritten invite with customary kumkum, turmeric marks and rice inside the envelope. Cards are now a collectors’ item, swathed in expensive silk, studded with crystals and inlaid with threads of gold and silver. The kangaroo-like pouches within the tea-tray sized cards carry at least half-a-dozen sub-invites that list these fringe functions: ring ceremony, cocktails, mehendi, sangeet and god knows what else besides. If you look hard, you may spot the name of the couple, and move on to the list of parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts, siblings (married or otherwise) and around a dozen nephews and nieces as folks that await your darshan (darshanabhilashi) and merciful presence (kripakangshi) at some half a dozen festivities associated with the wedding.
Once upon a time, just as an editor mistook his team for a batch of serfs at his (and rarely, her) beck and call, family elders too feel they know all about eminently marriageable young in their community. So like writing the daily editorials (which few read), matchmaking firmly excluded the young to be carried out entirely by seniors with some help from a trusted family astrologer and the family barber (since he regularly shaved and massaged all eligible and non-eligible males in the area and was an invaluable repository of details regarding their physical fitness including the state of their hair, teeth, eyes etc).
As for the marriageable ones being spied upon by trusted family friends, I recall Ama once dictating to me one such letter of “observations” to a non-resident relative regarding a particular young man from our area who had been recommended by someone as an eligible bachelor to the parents of some unnamed marriageable girl from our vast clan. After the routine “May Peace be upon you, worthy of all high titles, Shri so and so,” Ama came to the point, “Since you had asked me to check on Shri So and So’s Chiranjivi son, I note below my findings. Of course the young man has an impeccable lineage and counting seven generations from his father’s side and five from the mother’s, one could detect no blood relationship, so that particular aspect too is taken care of. The young man is said moreover to be of a most obedient son to his mother, and a good earner.”
“Physically he is somewhat dark of mien and according to Ramnath Baaji, the barber, has a cast in one eye. As I observed his gait from my house, his left leg seemed a bit shorter than his right. Upon enquiry I learnt that his mother, while she was expecting him, had stepped out to see an eclipse which resulted in the aforementioned anomaly. However, as a groom he is alright…Don’t just gape at me, write girl, write!”
The last command was barked out to me. “But Ama,” I remonstrated, “after naming all those awful physical defects, how can you say he is okay as a groom?”
“Shut up!” said Ama. “Who are we to find fault in another’s son? And in any case, if finally the parents decide to marry their girl to the bloke, can you imagine how foolish that can make me look? Shaadi, girl, is like a sweet laddoo. You eat it and feel sorry, but if you do not eat it you may feel sorrier still!”
Saakhi is a Sunday column from Mrinal Pande, in which she writes of what she sees and also participates in. That has been her burden to bear ever since she embarked on a life as a journalist, writer, editor, author and as chairperson of Prasar Bharti. Her journey of being a witness-participant continues.
The Big Fat Indian Wedding
14
10
17.03.2024
In the taxonomy of traditional Indian families, my maternal grandmother Ama, was an accidental matriarch. Ironically, this mother of nine was pushed into that unenviable position by her own patriarchal Kumaoni Brahmin community after the sudden and untimely death of her husband. She had had little formal education and her command over English was also somewhat shaky. But when Ama spoke about tradition, she usually had solid facts and wisdom on her side. Marriages, one of her famous quips was, may have been conceived in heaven but since they have to be solemnised here on earth, it is pointless to expect divine help in finding a perfect match for one’s child. Look at King Janaka of Mithila, the most learned astrologer and a scholar of his time. And did he foresee when he married his daughter Sita to a crown prince, she would be exiled to a forest not once but twice by the Ayodhyawallahs? And Ram, her husband, universally acknowledged as the divine incarnation of Lord Vishnu, would just look on?
Illustration: Pariplab Chakraborty
No, Ama said, we mortals must fall on our own resources and an occasional use of guile and subterfuge to check in on the candidates’ income and family money – that alone would keep their girl safe should there be, god forbid, some unforeseen development in the future.
Ama did not know Marilyn Monroe but she’d have concurred with her celebrated song about diamonds being a girl’s best friend!
Looking at the mind boggling display of affluence and socio-political clout at the recent pre-wedding ceremonials of the scion of one of India’s richest........
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