By Savitri Narayanan
The sun shone bright cheering up the October morning. In the outskirts of Meerut, the Dhawan family’s aangan came alive with brisk activity. It was Kartik’s wedding! Guests started to arrive – families with children trailing along, men young and old – all dressed in festive clothes. The family and close relatives were busy welcoming and leading them to the rows of chairs facing the slightly raised platform where the ceremony would take place. The decorated curtain announced, ‘Kartik weds Nandita’. Kartik, the groom sat with his friends and family on the chairs below, near the stage. Kartik had completed his degree in electrical engineering a year ago and got a job in Jamshedpur. He was on a week’s leave for his wedding after which he would be back in Jamshedpur with his wife to join duty.
Kartik remembered how his father struggled to raise funds for his studies. They owned some land and cattle and lived well but had little cash at his disposal. True, Kartik got selected in the merit list with 50% discounted fees but the other 50% was hard to find! Also, Meerut was too far from the engineering college in Delhi for daily travel so the only option was to stay in the college hostel. Kartik was aware that Pitaji had taken a loan against the land.
Whenever Kartik showed his concern, “It’s my responsibility,” Pitaji would assert and change the topic, “You focus on your studies, betey!”
Kartik was grateful that since he got his first salary, he had started repaying the loans on the land. At the back of his mind he wondered whether Nandita’s parents too struggled to make both ends meet. Nandita was from the nearby village, Gillargarh. It was an arranged marriage with some common relatives who came forward to make all the arrangements. Kartik wasn’t part of any wedding plans except transferring whatever amount Pitaji required for the expenses.
‘Keep it simple, Pitaji! Absolutely no showing off!’ was his favourite line. ‘We’ve nothing to prove to anybody!’
Kartik had taken one week’s leave and arrived home in Meerut. The ‘quiet’ home had come alive with close relatives and neighbours engaged in various tasks. It was then that he overheard the conversation among some relatives. They were sitting around, sipping tea except Shamsher uncleji and Tauji who were preparing and chewing paan.
‘Kishoreji has hit a gold mine!’
‘Twenty one lakh rupees! As if they’ve won a lottery!’
‘What’s the point? Soon it’ll be time for their daughter to be married off, wait and see the dowry demands!’
Soon Kartik cornered his father, “Pitaji, what’s this talk I’m hearing? Did you demand dowry?”
“No betey, no! Do you think I’ll do it? I said, ‘you follow your customs, what we want is a good daughter-in-law, we’ll arrange the rituals here in Meerut!’
That was the end of the dowry talk.
On the stage, the preparations for the rituals were meticulously done. Oil lamps, trays of flowers, offerings and other things were in place and Dhawan family’s priest was guiding his assistants while doing the last-minute check.
The mahurat was very near. Behind the curtain stood Nandita, dressed up in bridal glory, surrounded by her close family members and some friends.
“You look like a princess!” said a friend.
Nandita was the elder daughter of the Dhawan family. She had just completed her graduation and done her B.Ed. too. Nisha, her younger sister, was in Class XII, wanting to pursue M.B.B.S.
“A princess, just descended from heaven!” her friends continued to tease Nandita.
“And by tomorrow this time, the prince charming would be standing beside her, his protective arms holding the princess close!”
The panditji chanted some verses as he jingled the brass bell in his right hand, the signal to start the ceremony.
“Enough now!” said an aunt and a few more women as they gently led Nandita to the stage, “It’s time for the ceremony to start!”
“Nandita, lower your head!” added another aunt, pulling the bride’s sari ‘pallav’ lower to cover her face.
The groom was already on the stage. He was in a cream and golden kurta, along with a red turban with gold edging. The members of his family stood behind him just as Nandita’s father, and uncles stood behind her.
A red dupatta was held by two assistant priests, the conch shell was blown and the red dupatta was lowered. Kartik took a warm look at Nandita standing in front with her eyes lowered, holding a tray in hand. Kartik was shocked to see the stacks of brand new notes on the tray! He looked questioningly at the panditji and his father.
“It’s a custom, the bride passing on the dowry and touching your feet!” whispered the panditji. “Take the tray!” and he continued chanting the mantras louder.
Kartik looked at his father who avoided his glance and looked elsewhere.
His arms folded, Kartik looked around. All the eyes were on the stage at this unexpected pause in the wedding rituals. Even the panditji stopped chanting.
Kartik’s mind raced ahead and came to a quick decision. He took the mike from the panditji’s hands, smiled and bowed to the audience and the bride’s family and then pointed at the tray,
“This money belongs to them, the money they have earned with their efforts. I or my family have no rights or reason to take this! With due respects to each of you and to our traditions, I receive a token amount!” With those words Kartik picked up one stack of notes. He bowed again and returned the mike to the panditji with the words, “Let’s continue!”
Nandita’s family looked apprehensive, there was a shocked silence in the hall followed by loud applause. The rituals continued. At the panditji’s signal, the newly-wed couple got down from the stage holding hands where both the families welcomed them. There was much bonhomie in the air as the families interacted and formed and strengthened connections.
“You’re a hero!” said Kartik’s friends. “A trendsetter, courageous to publicly renounce a social evil!”
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Goa. A mother and grandmother, loves readig, writing and travelling.)
