The butterflies in my stomach, the sparkle in my eyes and the blushing smile on my face were enough for any person to know that I was getting married. An Indian girl born to pure Indian family brought up with the values of self-esteem and independence was all set to be hooked to the equally Indian family with their own set of values and principles. I call it getting hooked to the family because that is how it is in India (isn’t it ?).
The wedding story had lots of drama and melodrama and then again some more drama which ended up to be the perfect well organized and very well appreciated marriage of its time. All the relatives had their share of twirling tales. I shed a little tear to hide my excitement and smiled on the way with this total stranger. My pre-wedding love story is as bland as the Indian dish “Khichdi” which can only taste a little better with a spoonful of “Ghee”. The matrimony section of Times had his details, parents were contacted, Kundlis were matched (which I really doubt), meeting was arranged and the set up was of some 80’s movie. Hot steaming tea was served with some snacks to avoid the awkward moment of silence and some fake laughs were exchanged to ease out (coz yoga is not the right choice at such moment). We were given some time to know each other in the home garden and we discussed food & travel (as if that is all we have done so far and nothing else we plan to do for rest of our life). The response was not positive and I went to my next trip with friends in a happy go lucky mode. A month later when “He” stranger did not find other “She” stranger then “Me” stranger was contacted (That one hell of a story of any typical arrange marriage). I checked all the points on my list of Things-to-do-before-marriage and agreed for this one after meeting the family again. Please note there was no going out together, no long hours talk over the phone, no laughter exchanged. The only Ghee on my Khichdi was one day visit by the guy where I got to meet his friend, watch a movie with him and he got to meet my friends.
The complex process of preparing Wedding Biryani begins with the ingredients hand-picked from rule book by in-laws, culture book by parents, dress up book by relatives, comment book by neighbors, adult jokes by the ladies and alcohol jokes by the gents. The wife was well marinated with the heavy “ghunghat” and loaded with tons of gold jewelry and for the sake of tenderness, should be slowly cooked at medium flame of greetings and fake smiles. A half cooked husband was prepared already by the mother-in-law. Now came the real technique of layering them up with the showing it off spice on demand of the guy’s family, by the girl’s family, for all the family present (That’s a kind of term we all agreed on). Once cooked well, the ingredients are now inextricable from the Wedding Biryani and yet you can get the taste of each one of it in your every single bite till your marriage is alive. I was no different and so wasn’t my Wedding Biryani.
It comes as a surprise not only to my friends but also to me on what made me trust this special institution called marriage (Arranged Marriage in my case).. Well! It all started with the official blind date organized by parents which further lead to the understanding that the guy on the other side is as equal a failure like me to believe in oneself and search for the life partner. This deal was going to be between the people of equal status (wrt failure instincts to search the right match) and high respect for their parent’s choice (as if we had any other choice. huh!). The age alarmed (only as per timing set by the social obligators) with no snooze button to shut off and we got into this all strings attached relationship. Before you start judging my post as a side effect of marriage, I must warn you to do so. The post is as sturdy as a happy married couple.
Long back there lived a powerful prince who went to the “Swaymvar” (to choose one’s groom) ceremony of a powerful princess. They got married and started exploring each other’s ambit. The modern day ceremony is called “Santanvar” (to choose groom for the child). The set-up then was huge and well decorated king’s court whereas now the set-up is some grand shopping mall or some highly sophisticated coffee shop. The power then was strength of the king and beauty of the queen whereas the power now is strength to agree for a stranger who we assume to have a beautiful soul. The effort then was more to impress by some heroic act whereas now the heroism is the ability to develop and express only good part of true emotions. The struggle around this infamous “Together Forever” event is unique as we decide the object first and then go bonkers about.
But truly, Love is a subjective feeling. We are free to fall in or fall out of it. The freedom is calculated more on the choices made independent of biased opinions. The rights are equally demanded for the better fortune. The arrangements are on the ground of the values taught so far.
In fact, when two immaturely obstinate people decide to stick to the once not so seriously taken decision, the marriage works. When two inapt human being diligently struggle for each other’s freedom and space, the marriage smiles. When two fugitive mortals continue to fall in love and fall out of aversion, the marriage stays. When two insane psyche refuse to distrust the incantation of happiness, the marriage bloom.
Let’s be part of the happy marriage by celebrating the goodness of the right and shedding off the bitterness of the wrong!!
The wedding story had lots of drama and melodrama and then again some more drama which ended up to be the perfect well organized and very well appreciated marriage of its time. All the relatives had their share of twirling tales. I shed a little tear to hide my excitement and smiled on the way with this total stranger. My pre-wedding love story is as bland as the Indian dish “Khichdi” which can only taste a little better with a spoonful of “Ghee”. The matrimony section of Times had his details, parents were contacted, Kundlis were matched (which I really doubt), meeting was arranged and the set up was of some 80’s movie. Hot steaming tea was served with some snacks to avoid the awkward moment of silence and some fake laughs were exchanged to ease out (coz yoga is not the right choice at such moment). We were given some time to know each other in the home garden and we discussed food & travel (as if that is all we have done so far and nothing else we plan to do for rest of our life). The response was not positive and I went to my next trip with friends in a happy go lucky mode. A month later when “He” stranger did not find other “She” stranger then “Me” stranger was contacted (That one hell of a story of any typical arrange marriage). I checked all the points on my list of Things-to-do-before-marriage and agreed for this one after meeting the family again. Please note there was no going out together, no long hours talk over the phone, no laughter exchanged. The only Ghee on my Khichdi was one day visit by the guy where I got to meet his friend, watch a movie with him and he got to meet my friends.
The complex process of preparing Wedding Biryani begins with the ingredients hand-picked from rule book by in-laws, culture book by parents, dress up book by relatives, comment book by neighbors, adult jokes by the ladies and alcohol jokes by the gents. The wife was well marinated with the heavy “ghunghat” and loaded with tons of gold jewelry and for the sake of tenderness, should be slowly cooked at medium flame of greetings and fake smiles. A half cooked husband was prepared already by the mother-in-law. Now came the real technique of layering them up with the showing it off spice on demand of the guy’s family, by the girl’s family, for all the family present (That’s a kind of term we all agreed on). Once cooked well, the ingredients are now inextricable from the Wedding Biryani and yet you can get the taste of each one of it in your every single bite till your marriage is alive. I was no different and so wasn’t my Wedding Biryani.
It comes as a surprise not only to my friends but also to me on what made me trust this special institution called marriage (Arranged Marriage in my case).. Well! It all started with the official blind date organized by parents which further lead to the understanding that the guy on the other side is as equal a failure like me to believe in oneself and search for the life partner. This deal was going to be between the people of equal status (wrt failure instincts to search the right match) and high respect for their parent’s choice (as if we had any other choice. huh!). The age alarmed (only as per timing set by the social obligators) with no snooze button to shut off and we got into this all strings attached relationship. Before you start judging my post as a side effect of marriage, I must warn you to do so. The post is as sturdy as a happy married couple.
Long back there lived a powerful prince who went to the “Swaymvar” (to choose one’s groom) ceremony of a powerful princess. They got married and started exploring each other’s ambit. The modern day ceremony is called “Santanvar” (to choose groom for the child). The set-up then was huge and well decorated king’s court whereas now the set-up is some grand shopping mall or some highly sophisticated coffee shop. The power then was strength of the king and beauty of the queen whereas the power now is strength to agree for a stranger who we assume to have a beautiful soul. The effort then was more to impress by some heroic act whereas now the heroism is the ability to develop and express only good part of true emotions. The struggle around this infamous “Together Forever” event is unique as we decide the object first and then go bonkers about.
But truly, Love is a subjective feeling. We are free to fall in or fall out of it. The freedom is calculated more on the choices made independent of biased opinions. The rights are equally demanded for the better fortune. The arrangements are on the ground of the values taught so far.
In fact, when two immaturely obstinate people decide to stick to the once not so seriously taken decision, the marriage works. When two inapt human being diligently struggle for each other’s freedom and space, the marriage smiles. When two fugitive mortals continue to fall in love and fall out of aversion, the marriage stays. When two insane psyche refuse to distrust the incantation of happiness, the marriage bloom.
Let’s be part of the happy marriage by celebrating the goodness of the right and shedding off the bitterness of the wrong!!
