The Cocktail named Life

Sutradhaar

Theirs was not an arranged marriage.  Neither was it a case of eloping with the coveted partner.  The groom, had come to Kolkata to wed the bride in July, accompanied by four of his family members. 

Flash Back

They found each other in the Thar desert of Western Rajasthan in Barmer, in an organization working for rural development in villages dotting the Indo-Pak border .  It was her first job and he was the design consultant over there.  The girl was just out of the social work college, brimming with ‘I-will-right-all-wrongs’ attitude and him, a mature adult.  They were separated by a decade in between their birth years.  The common thread that had led to the fatal attraction in the dry land, was the magical Rourkela steel city, where both had spent many meaningful years of childhood and growing up.  The closeness and intimacy drew snarls and raised eyebrows of their colleagues at the organization but they did not care much.  And soon, their marriage was on the cards.  The girl departed for home (Kolkata) from Jodhpur station, a month ago, to prepare for the day.

Woh kahan???

Just two days prior to the marriage date, when the groom was supposed to arrive, somehow, he did not turn up.  It was all so filmy.  The girl’s father had been to the railway station early morning to receive the groom but the boy just did not turn up.  Connectivity was limited during those days since mobile phones were not available with either party, nor was there a landline phone at the groom’s house.…..The elderly gentleman was visibly upset and the bride's mother was on the verge of tears.  Tensions sparked all across. The mother did not flinch from imagining a range of incomprehensible situations….while the bride maintained her cool (Aayega nahi toh jayega kahan???) 

Dulha Ayega Zaroor!

The only option left was calling up the office staff at Barmer.  The girl walked down to the roadside STD booth situated under the banyan tree, near their house in Kolkata, placed a long distance call to Barmer and talked to the common boss, the employer at Barmer.  After hearing out the story, the end line user assured her that the groom has left a few days back, had made a lot of purchases from the army canteen and concluded that he is certainly meant to marry himself.  Armed with some substantial data, the girl walked back home, feeling better.  
But this bit of circumstantial evidence did not deter the parents from thinking about the worst possible probabilities....
The entire day and night passed by and no message was yet received about the whereabouts of the groom.  Soon, the elder brother of the bride could not take the suspense anymore and flung a slight remark as to whether at all the other fellow was serious about getting married to his sister or not (his imagination may have been fuelled by Bollywood films)…..the bride's parents spent a sleepless night, discussing and dismissing dangerous permutations and disastrous combinations. The bride slept in peace.........(Aayega nahi toh jayega kahan???) 

Aum Shanti!

The dulha finally decided to arrive.  Same train. Same time...but exactly after the earth has rotated once around the axis. But this time....the ceremonies were stripped off the welcome rituals....Why the un-informed delay?? The reason seemed to be simple. He had decided to take a detour.  So he simply got off the train at the Rourkela railway station to meet an old friend and invite her to accompany him to the marriage. 

The girls’ parents, though visibly relieved, were perturbed by the uncalled-for demonstration of their almost son-in-laws’, keen sense of responsibility. 

Ajab Gajab

The groom’s family members, a limited edition of Borjatri (Barat or 'Jhaan' in Gujarati) arrived a day before and were put up in the modest guest house of SBI Bank, near Rani Rashbehari Road.  Them ….Gujarati (Kathiawadi) … the girl’s family were bengalees…. with their ancestral roots in the East Bengal.  The Gujarati family wanted an all-bengalee marriage and the Dulhan's side were more than happy to reciprocate. On the previous night, the girls’ parents went to meet his.  They also gifted the attire to be adorned by the groom - a dhoti, gorod silk kurta and a topor (the head wear).  For the dulha, the dhoti was an alien piece of clothing but was assured that one of the girls’ uncles would be coming over to help him wrap it. 

Mujhse Shaadi Karogi...
The next day, on the day of marriage, the 'Apps' named as the rain god was put on active mode. The rains that were persistent since the morning became incessant and indefinite from evening onward.  The time of marriage (logno) was 20.30 hrs. The dulha was getting impatient.  The person entrusted to dress up the dulha, was pitifully held up due to the rains and potholed roads of Kolkata. 

Woh bhi kisise kum nahin

The adage, ‘self help is the best help’…came handy…The Dulha picked up the dhoti, went downstairs to the SBI bank and strode inside.  The bank was closed for customers.  The Dulha asked for the manager.  
(One of the Dulhan's kaku- uncle, who had previously worked in this branch and had told the Dulha to get in touch with the branch manager in case any help was needed).

Main Hoon Na
The branch manager brightened up thinking that THIS was the noble cause behind his birth on this earth, a Bengalee, pre destined to help a Gujarati groom wear a dhoti in traditional Bengalee style. The officer, with much grandeur, closed the door to his office, drew the blinds, disrobed the 'subject' and launched the ‘grooming’ mission ...Thank God...the current laws (Section 377 of IPC) were unheard of, at that time.... 

Once the task was accomplished, he took a step behind, inspected the outcome, was overtly pleased with his dedicated efforts and was soon very eager to share the fruits of his efforts, with his dumbfounded colleagues.  
He advised the Dulha, 'wearing a Dhoti is one thing but carrying it with dignity comes with practice alone'. 

Pag ghunghroo bandhe meera naachee thee

The word was out in the office that a Gujarati groom, stranded in Kolkata rains is struggling to wear the Bangali Bhadrolok attire under the chief’s guidance. This bit of news was enough to cheer up the morbid mortals confined to the gloomy bureaucratic rigours. Weary of handling pension accounts and tracking loan recovery status, this came as a welcome change and spiced up the rain-dipped evening. Subtle changes were immediately administered in the office to make a makeshift ramp for the groom to execute a showstopping catwalk.  A mock walk was demonstrated by the manager with the Dulha following suit.  Soon, the nuances of the elite, the stance and gestures were mastered.  Appreciation and applause were loaded on the mentor and hi 'subject' .

The Final Countdown

The bride was unusually excited with her own marriage. Not so much with the prospect of stepping into a new book of life that had many unknown chapters to be read, drafted and mastered..... but more so with the fact that she will be the center of attention for that one day in her lifetime.  All throughout school in Rourkela, she desired to be decked up in jittery clothes and get facial make up from the make-up man in the greenroom at Civic center, and to participate in the Odhisa Sambalpuri Folk dances during the School Annual Functions. But inevitably, she got selected for the chorus to be sung for the on-stage drama, thus ending up with negligible makeup and wearing the regular white and navy blue school uniform. This day was thus a 'once in a life time ' opportunity...!!! Now or never!

The Rituals

The early morning rituals of dodhimanagal were followed by the procedures of biddhi and sampradaan at the bride’s home.  The haldi and oil ceremony (wherein a bride like Fish smeared with haldi and oil is sent to the Groom) was edited out to suit the groom’s situation. 

Make Up
The makeup trends had changed long before.  Gone were the days when the aunt next door famed for her make-up skills was called over for adding sheen to the bride’s look.  The concept of bridal makeup being outsourced to the beauty parlours, was gaining ground. But the beauticians usually lacked in the dexterity to paint elaborate designs with chandan and kumkum on the forehead and cheeks. This skill gap was partly because of lack of skill transfer to the younger generation but mostly because of the growing interest of young brides in adorning minimalist patterns.  

But this bride wanted detailed and intricate designs on her face.  The bride’s mother was an expert in the art.  She was experienced in painting designs on foreheads with chandan during the cultural programmes held in the para (locality). But she was having several other responsibilities on that day (She herself put the 'Alpona' -design on the floor with white rice paste, in the marriage venue!!) .  

So, a man from the local neighbourhood who worked as a makeup person in the school functions was called for the bridal makeup.  The makeup was over within less than an hour.  The heavy benarasi silk in maroon and gold, the veil, the gold jewelry, floral headgear, alta (red colour) in the feet…..nothing was left out. But most pronounced were the outdated peacock like designs that were glaring on the cheeks of the bride. 

Multi-lingual intervention

The barati came on time, with the dulha looking handsome and confident, smartly sporting a dhoti and balancing the moist 'topor' (head adornment worn by the grooms). The girls’ mother welcomed the groom in the traditional manner with the elaborately decorated dala.  

Following the groom was a fleet of simply clad docile group of people whom any one could but graduate as Borjatri. They spoke less and ate even lesser. And over the top they were a bit taken aback to see their future daughter-in-law perched atop the Piri (a wooden slab), carried by four able brother-like men....and that the bride was waving out to all... as if she has just won the Miss Universe title...A far cry from the subdued veiled brides of Kathiawaar......Tough times ahead...

Marriage
The court marriage preceded the vedic rituals.  The kanya daan, shubho drishti, mala badal, shaat paank (saptapadi), yagna, anjali and sindur daan followed sequentially.  The purohit, an exponent in Sanskrit, was special to the family, since his father had married off the brides’ parents. He was in a hurry to finish off and attend to some other event.  The Dulha was however keen to be explained in detail about the steps of marriage and their significance as well. The Dulhan too did not want to skip any of the oft seen steps of marriage...after all this is supposed to be a one take shoot...no replays...no repeat editions....
A multi-lingual interpretation of rituals entailed and the wedding got over amidst the rain gods showering their generous blessings. 

A few years later…

The couple sport two samples of mixed breed.  One is a girl, a rebellious teen and the other, a boy, a stubborn brat. Both know Bangla, their ‘mother’ tongue.  But none speak in the language regularly. They have picked up the Kathiawadi accent. The younger one obliges by putting in a desperate dash of Bangla here and there but both come out with their finest speaking skills in front of legally defined Bengalees and also when the Ahmedabad - Howrah Express train is about to arrive on the Bongo Bhoomi.....during the rare occassions of homecoming by the bride.

Epilogue
Life is going by. The conflicts, the clashes, the discontent and complaints (Maine tumhare liye apna sab kuchh daon pe laga diya... tum ne hee mujhe barbaad kiya...) are there to stay when two opposing cultures decide to cohabit. But the outcome is always endearing. Cheers to the cocktail named 'married life'!!!!
Today, on the seventeenth marriage anniversary, all the memories seem to be so dear!