Saturday evening had arrived and it was the 15th of May. Noori has asked my brother if she could sing a song for me -well, presented as a song for all- before we leave the house and I enter my new life.
He said yes, seeing no problem with that. Earlier Noori excused herself with my sister, she would not attend the wedding ceremony or celebrations.
Her passionate voice sang a song from an Indian movie made only the year before and it went something like this: *“Raja ki aayegi baaraat, rangili hogi raat, magan main nachoongi ho, magan main nachoongi…”
She sang it all the way through but by the middle of the song I have to tell you, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house, especially mine… and Noori’s. Only later did I find that my mother knew why.
It was like I was wearing lead shoes not to mention the heaviness of my heart but I also knew, the promised **baaraat had to leave my house now in all its pageantry and head directly to the bride-to-be’s house.
Goodnight dear, sweet Noori.
The marriage ceremony took place as planned. It lasted about an hour and a half. Yes it does and can even go up to 2 hours in some instances. Another time perhaps.
At the end of the ceremony my bride was taken into her house and I did not see her again the rest of that night. At this point of the evening, amidst the congratulations and what-have-you, the entire baaraat and all guests were fed a wonderful and fulfilling vegetarian dinner.
Arrangements have been made for myself and a few male members of the wedding party to slumber outdoors. Of course for me and some others, we slept underneath protective mosquito nets. Don’t worry, this is Fiji; it’s nice and warm!
The women from my side of the family have returned to my household for the night; there will be much to do when they awake! Sunday morning arrived swiftly and ^kichari was the traditional meal which was served.
It was about brunch time now. I have not yet seen Hemma since we were wed last night; we will not be sharing this meal together either. Tradition.
Although the delicious food has been laid out on the table before me and my guests, no one eats. I have to take the first mouthful. But even I cannot start because I must wait.
You must be wondering, now what? So I’ll tell you: in the tradition (at least it was practiced back then and before that even) the guests put money on the table in front of the groom, one at a time; a gift-giving game in good fun.
And from just beside me, I’m being pinched and coached: Very much in the capacity of a best man, my adopted+ brother’s given duty was to take full & proper charge of all my needs. This responsibility was met with great honor and dignity for him, as it was for me to receive it.
So he sits beside me to watch closely each denomination laid in my presence. With each note I got a pinch from him to say, “That’s not enough!”
And so the cash keeps coming in until the note laid down is big enough to stop the nipping, thank goodness! Finally my brother approves and says, “Now you can eat!”
Good thing too because by this time we were all very hungry and so I take the leading bite!
Not long afterwards my bride Hemma comes out of her house, escorted by the ladies. It is time to wrap this part of the wedding up neatly and make the initial journey to my house; our home. The goodbyes are said.
Whoever is still here from the baaraat goes with Hemma and myself to our house. The first part of the journey was by car and then we walked the remainder of the way; it’s not as far as it sounds.
It wasn’t a bad walk for that path had been cleared out for the most part – it was now nothing like the school boy days when I had to ‘hike’ through there; you remember that, right?!
That evening my wife sleeps in another room with the girls of my family; we are still not together. The next morning her family comes to take her back to their house. Yes you guessed it, tradition.
Before they can leave however the in-laws are invited in and served a variety of fresh & hot, delicious and hearty snacks with tea of course. About an hour later, they have left with my new and still very young wife.
The remaining folk in my home now are those who live here, a few family members and some friends to hang around, help out and enjoy the petite celebrations and with more eating of course! Now we can go back to our regular diet and have a drink= or two if we wanted.
It’s also time for me to wrap my head around thoughts of my new life. Hemma is away for a full week. Last of the ‘tradition’ call and …I am really married.
*Raja ki aayegi baaraat (the king’s wedding procession will arrive), rangili hogi raat (the night will be colorful-festive), magan main nachoongi ho, magan main nachoongi (transfixed, I will dance),… and as song approaches its end, the lady is singing that she’ll be dancing alone because of something like, a blow to the heart, rainfall (tears) in her eyes, the night will be dark and so she’ll dance alone. Pretty darned sad if you ask me.
1953 Credit where it’s due: LYRICS: Shailendra & Hasrat Jaipuri MUSIC: Shankar Jaikishan ~ If possibly there’s an error with these credits, someone please let me know – thanks much!
**baaraat Groom’s wedding party
+adopted brother elder than my blood brother, he was the son of (one of) my father’s best friends. My mother practically raised him. This relation was born from a very strong bond forged on the ship which my father traveled from 🇮🇳 on; you would’ve read about those relationships in the Pilot Episode (archives).
^kichari traditional dish served day after the wedding. It is rice and dal (spiced lentils) prepared together; see? A symbol of unity.
= a drink as with the mandatory vegetarian meals, so too alcohol consumption is not allowed.
And there is more thing: LBM never, ever liked for his food which was served hot, to become cold. To this day he still very much does not like that, not one bit! Just imagine him as a restaurant owner? LOL – think you would be let back in as his guest if you did not dig-in immediately upon being served?
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