Between Bride and Tribes

 Between Bride & Tribes

Kris  was running   as if  a dozen blood thirsty village mongrels   were after him.  Fact was, he was running away …….from his own wedding!

 He somehow managed to board the  train & exulted “Yes”! He was free. They would not be able to nab him.

As he watched the green paddy fields waft by he felt a twinge   in his heart.  The events of the past week played  out in his mind.

 His only wish was to marry the girl he adored and everything was moving on smoothly ..

Until the horde of boisterous, Crazy relatives arrived. He was terrified and had to change his mind

 Raksha, came from a large family, Born to South Indian Parents, her 5 paternal Uncles/Aunts their 11 children, 4 maternal uncles/Aunts and  10 children doted over her .She was the cynosure of their eyes. Hers was a truly “Nationally” integrated family,with cousins married to   Mallus, Gujjus, Punjus, Bongs . The gregarious  extended family got along like a house on fire.

He met “Rak” in London   and it was love at first sight for both and they had started planning for a wedding.  She desired a traditional South Indian style wedding in her native Tamil Nadu.

 

Vishwanathan  Balachandran and Padma  had migrated to London decades back. They had brought up their only son Krishnamurthy Vishwanathan in the best of English traditions and culture.\

As years rolled by, ‘Vish Bala’ &‘Pam’ watched with pride as son ‘Kris’ grew into a fine, cultured  ‘Propah’ young man.

Kris had no idea  about an Indian wedding but acceded to her request.  For Rak he would do anything.

. Oh! How badly he had misjudged! ....he brooded over his mistake.

He had collected lot of information about South Indian weddings and had a fair idea of what to expect. But “reality “ is so different " he mumbled as he continued the   journey away from Poovathur.

The hullabaloo had started at the airport soon after his arrival.  He was choked in bear hugs and then carried on shoulders to a flower bedecked car with ear splitting music belted out by a music band and a retinue of bizarrely dressed people of all ages. For a second , he thought that he was being Kidnapped . He was shoved into the back seat of the car.

Seated inside was his Rak  smiling coyly at him and Gujju  aunty with betel juice dripping from the edge of her mouth . The excited  car driver, was racing down  the highway,  and turning  round in his seat  every now and to strike  a conversation  with  ‘mappilaai’ . Kris was scared stiff.

They arrived at the venue  2 hours late, but nobody seemed to notice!    time meant nothing to these people. What a chaotic place he had come to, He was appalled

 Kris thanked his stars for still being alive..

 

 The driver demanded the fare. Rak   looked at her   Gujju aunty.  She began dipping her fingers deep into her blouse “Huṁ tene sodhi sakato nathi ”  she exclaimed dipping her hands deeper. Kris was embrassed, and horrified. Finally she pulled out the currency note and handed the money  to the driver

Rak’s uncle looked at Kris and consoled him,” we need to be careful. I myself keep  my cash here." He said parting his dothi and revealing a blue,black and white striped underpant.

  But this had been just the beginning of his predicament. As he was dragged into the venue, he was told that a certain Haldi ceremony would be performed later in the evening followed by the Mehndi  .

. With a  a giggling crowd surrounding him, he was stripped half naked & being smeared with  grimy yellow paste. He wanted to scream .A few enthusiastic aunties even rubbed the sticky paste into nostrils, ears and even eyes. Only in excitement of course.    

 

And finally with the aunties losing interest, his skin burning,   he rushed to the bathroom to wash off the  paste. There in the bathroom stood  four  burly Uncles ,waiting

"We have been entrusted to bathe you," they informed him.

 “, err.. Thanks but I can  manage” he protested.

“It’s your wedding, and our duty is to treat you respectfully”. “nannaḷ ninnaḷe rajakiyamayi parigaṇikkuṁ” exclaimed Mallu Uncle .Bridegrooms never take a bath alone."

 Kris  was in despair The crazy rituals were driving him insane but  every time he looked at Rak’s sprightly  face he  decided to put up with  the absurdity  and endure the  pain  till this farce  they called a wedding, would be over.

 The Mehndi itself was a wild celebration. People were dancing to deafening DJ music and others were throwing wads of currency notes on them as they would on bar dancers. When he had enquired from Rak about the imprudence, she proudly informed him that they were actually respectable members of her family.

 

Then the feeding began.  He had never eaten so much food and so much sweet ever before.

He was almost ready to scream. He informed Rak about how he felt. "Let's escape ," he pleaded.  She thought he was joking. She herself was enjoying every bit of the action. She blew a kiss  and rejoined the dancing troupe.

Kris had had enough. He had seen and suffered the full blown orgy!

He reached the train station alone. Once he reached London, he would call Rak and explain to her that all he desired was a quite wedding without the weirdos getting on his nerve. He prayed to God that she would understand his feelings and pardon him.

. There he sat, alone in the train, a lump rising in his throat as the train moved away from the town. He thought about all the eccentric people he had met, their rather extravagant yet spontaneous affection and his face lit up with a faint smile.

  He now gradually grasped the meaning of Tolerance & Flexibility. Five days in this country and the people and their ways  were already influencing him, he reasoned.

As he watched the terrain go by, he realized that he was actually missing the crackpots. Missing the frenzy , missing the excitement, missing out the affection.  His smile grew wider.

So, Kris convinced himself by getting off at the next station and heading back to Rak.

 As he walked back towards his room the lights came on in the dark hallway and there stood Rak, angry and very upset.

"So you thought of packing up?  …. Without me “  She hissed.

"But….but..  I’m back ” He stammered.

"Don’t try to charm me, I know what you were plotting," she accused.

"How could I desert you , all my thoughts steer me back to you." He mumbled, .

"I know my relatives were a bit unbearable for you," she said  

 "Unbearable? They are insufferable! “He guffawed, planting a quick kiss on her cheek knowing well that he was absolved.

"No surreptitious meeting before marriage” giggled bong aunty  gliding  past them with a box  of sweets in her hands.

"We will call off the celebrations if you desire" She whispered with some sadness and continued, "you don't have to do abscond like this....,"

No “I want to...," Kris assured her “really want to” he stammered.

The wedding  was a grand affair , with a cacophony of squeals , laughter & chatter : “Kina sohaṇa laṛa,”  “Phulani maḷa kyaeṁ che”, “saṅgiteapakaraṇannaḷ  vayikkuka,” “Upaharera jhuṛi aenuna,”  “Getti melam,Getti melam”  .The groom danced  to the tunes of pulsating Music , competed  in the Gorging  and ……… even won the contest. He  had firmly fallen in love with Avial, Vendekkayi Poriyal and Pal Payasam .

Wedding over, Kris and Rak sat at a secluded corner . .

Kris noticed Rak’s Grandmother suddenly barge into the hall, holding   a bundle of flaming  straw. She swished it before him & Rak mumbling what Kris thought were expletives. “Oh, not again! Is she going to burn us down”? he enquired with Rak. She only smiled. Grandma rubbed some soot across the eyebrows of newly married couple and went her way satisfied. Kris was still dazed.

 From the room occupied by the Punju family, came the rhythmic strains of all-time favorite “Mera laung gawachha” to the soft beat of the dhol, in the room opposite mallu uncle was in fine fettle rendering  the melodious “Kalyaanam Kaliyaanennu” Bong uncle,aunty and daughter were engaged in an antakshari with “ Laje Ronga holo kone bou go”

Further away the grand- aunts were singing Raksha Kalyanam Viabhogamae, Krishnamurthy Kalyanam Vaibhogamae