Wedding Knells-2-Ramblings of an idle mind

Weddings, being the flavour of the month, this blog has been inspired by Sam's wedding blues. I've attended only 6 weddings in my lifetime (family or otherwise), so weddings remain a novelty to me. And because, all the weddings that I've attended have been in my native villlages, their memories are vivid, embossed into my childhood consciousness. The hustle-bustle of activity, people strolling freely through the compound and the courtyard of the ancestral house, the rickety shamianas, eating out of plates made of dried leaves, the laughter and the gaiety.

I remember the sight of aunts and grand-aunts all huddled in the huge kitchen, busy frying namkeens in huge black kadhis, the shimmer of oil, the furious chopping of mounds of vegetables, the swish-swish, the khat-khat all seamlessly merging with the babel of voices rising to a crescendo, falling to a hush and then being punctuated by a multitude of giggling. They would then spot me, a solitary skinny figure ( You see, I was the only grandchild for a long time on my Dad's side) standing at the door, dressed in a summer frock replete with flowers, with grimy knees, flywaway curls and forlorn eyes scanning for my Maa and their voices would burst with warmth and welcome. I remember going to my Mum, hiding in her saree and lisping, "Maa, i'm so bored'' and my Daadi would snatch me away, hug me to her bossom, all the time ccoing, "Arre, my Chunnu, my dhanna, u r getting bored! Look at all this, dekho hamaare yahaan shaadi kaise hoti hai. When u'll go YOUR Bombay, u can tell ur friends how we celebrate our weddings, kitna kuch hota hai yahaan". Then I would nod, silently wide-eyed, munching on a hot namkeen while others would coo, "Look how sweet she is!"

I remember the cycle rides with my grandfather, me perched precariosly on the edge of the bar, to distribute cards to nearby places and my grandfather would show-off me, "Arre, this is my eldest son Munna's daughter, Lipi. Bombay se aayi hai" and people would stare at me curiously and whisper among themselves.

Those were the halcyon days of my childhood, the days of innocence, the days when Bombay was a big myth, an impossible dream for these simple-minded, big-hearted villagers. Obviously things are a lot lot different now! But my grandparents' love for me, their eldest son's child, their only granddaughter, still remains as eternal and unquenchable and heart-warming.

The first wedding I actually remember attending was as a 3-yr old, when I had tagged along with my Bua for her friend's wedding. And after coming home I remember complaining to an highly-amused audience,
"Maa, shaadi mein kuaan ka paani (well-water/brackish water) diya tha ,aur aapko pata hai, Dulhaan ne toh make-up bhi nahin kiya tha!"...
...But that was then. Fast forward to the summer of 1994 when both my Kakas were getting married...the first one in my beloved Odisha and the second one later in the month in Mumbai, a week before my 7th birthday. That was my most glorious summer....2 weddings, a birthday and being the centre of attention surrounded by scores of loving relatives(some of them who haven't seen me after that... so the only picture that comes to their minds when my grandmom speaks about me is of a bright-eyed, gay little girl...little knowing what a bespectcled boring behenji I've turned into!)

I remember sitting on a stool in the courtyard, when my Dad's younger brother, a self-professed barber, proceeded to style my hair for the wedding. I was seated apprehensively, akin to a sacrificial lamb, staring at my smiling mother, my baleful eyes dark with hurt and her so-called betrayal for abandoning me to my uncle's scissors. Snip, snip, went the scissors and my uncle kept up a steady cheerful chatter as to how the results would be better than any 'Bombay ka saloon'. In the meantime I saw my curls float down and my body heaved with silent sobs. But the haircut came out beautifully...it was a mushroom cut and honestly no haircut to-date has made me look so good.

I remember dancing with the Baraati dresssed in a peach and pink frilly frock...I danced all the way, for hours altogether, cheered on by people, feet tapping and hips swaying with abandon and finally when I reached the wedding venue, I was so sick and tired that I threw up the entire food and then slept throughout the actual wedding! The Bombay wedding in comparision was more sedate, more formal and probably more 'citified'. But it was fun nevertheless for a 7-yr old kid in an another a new frock.

Those were the last proper weddings I attended. After that the 2 family weddings I've attended have been a blur, a 3-day rush, a quick dash in and out ...plans made in a hurry, calenders checked if the trips could be combined with any weekend/public holidays, Mom taking leave from college, me missing school/college for not more than 2 days, Dad unable to get leave from work...train tickets booked in a hurry, me studying all along the long train journeys, the brief Hellos and namastes to cousins and relatives, the curious stares from my chintu-mintu cousins at this 'brainy' didi from Mumbai, the cursory conversations, the customary murmuring, "Look how big u've become...wish u could've come for a longer time... how much will u study...we are all very proud of u..." These encounters have been like accidentally touching a hot iron, too short, too searing and not without pain.

2001 was the last wedding I've attended. My youngest Mama finally decided to get married and my Mom being the eldest, she was duty-bound to go and see to everything. I went too and it was very enjoyable because there are lots of girl cousins on my Mom's side and only 2 or 3 boys. So the getting together, the gossiping and the dressing up was good fun and timepass.

Ironically, I haven't yet been able to attend any of my cousins' wedding yet. I have missed all the 'next generation'; 'my generation' weddings...6 to be exact! Demands of distance and time, studies and exams have taken the toll...Now I've to keep telling my cousin bro who's next in line to select an oppurtune time, to wait till my studies and exams get over, to which I'm met by an incredulous stare which plainly translates into, " But that would be never!"

Never mind, there are always the behenji weddings to look forward to, which I'm determined to gate-crash...and if a pyscho in a fit of delusion ever agrees to marry me, then I shall solemnly try my best to attend that too. :-)