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My grannie told me that her mom's wedding festival went on (apparently) for all of 14 days (and nights). And her own got compressed to a pitiable week. And her daughter's wedding was over in just three days...folks got too busy. My own marriage lasted for two nights and a day. My son's was through in one night and the next day...it was all over by the evening.
I recall this 3-day thing very well...no, not my mom's marriage, naturally, but his youngest brother's marriage in Nellore in 1953 when I was all of ten years.
We were a couple of dozen kids of a rough and tumble generation and we didn't participate as dignified guests...we ran all over the place and were busy playing outdoor games.
Suddenly I spotted a farmer carrying on his bent shoulders his farmyard yoke enter the marriage hall. I was familiar with this yoke thing, not so much because I was a village bumpkin in our Muthukur school, but since it was in our Nehurji's election symbol in the election just gone by (1952) in which we all participated riding a tractor carrying sheaves of printed pamphlets flinging them on the wayside and shouting:
"Nehru Congress Jindabad! Vote for 2 bullocks and a yoke!"
We all trooped into the wedding hall guessing something was afoot not to be missed. The yoke was precisely the same that the farmer used in his field and was about 6 feet long and sturdy and heavy as a pig.
And in due time, the Pundit asked the newly-wed couple to get up and stand on his either side about 3 feet apart. And then the farmer brought in his heavy yoke and a couple of youngsters helped to lift it up and hold it aloft. And my MD Uncle (the groom) and my resultant auntie (his bride) sidled up underneath the yoke on either side pretending they were the two bullocks that the farmer drove in his field tickling their (I mean his bullocks') genitals with his short stick....het...het...hey...hey...dhut!
Of course the young volunteers holding the yoke were careful enough not to drop the damn thing on the necks of the couple but just about touch their heads while the Pundit chanted his mantra that went on for what seemed to the couple a couple of hours...they were blushing pink.
At last they were allowed to crawl out and the farmer took back his yoke along with sumptuous sweets and five odd rupees.
And I nudged my father, who was rather enjoying the show, asking what was going on.
And he explained that the Pundit was admonishing the newlyweds that they should always remember this ritual whenever they tend to fight and pull in different directions...that they should plow in unison like the pair of bullocks tied to the marital yoke.
I thought it rather funny...but those were the symbols of a life tied down to agriculture as in the rural Nellore of my time...pretty soon it is going to be a smart city and I don't know what would replace our yoke...maybe a pair of Google Glasses.
By when my own marriage arrived in 1979, I asked our Pundit riding beside me on the Nellore-Tirpuati bus for the wedding at my wife's place if he had arranged for a farmer and his yoke. He laughed and opened his heavy-duty bag underneath our seat and brought forth a mini-yoke made of teak wood about a foot long and weighing a couple of kilos. He of course assured me that he would recite the same mantra that my uncle's chap did.
A few years ago, in 2008, I was a mute witness to my son's marriage in Nellore, again. And I asked our new Pundit (who charged me all of Rs 10,000) if he had arranged for the yoke. And he smiled and brought out his own from his sling-bag...it was made of stainless steel and was less than 6 inches long and weighed nothing.
I asked him how such a tiny yoke would be placed across the necks of the couple whose size didn't change much for all of six generations.
And he said the mantra remained the same and the stainless steel yoke would just be held by him in the air in front of the couple who would be admonished to look at it and bow down to it and say:
"OK...ok...ooookaaay!"
...Posted by Ishani
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My grannie told me that her mom's wedding festival went on (apparently) for all of 14 days (and nights). And her own got compressed to a pitiable week. And her daughter's wedding was over in just three days...folks got too busy. My own marriage lasted for two nights and a day. My son's was through in one night and the next day...it was all over by the evening.
I recall this 3-day thing very well...no, not my mom's marriage, naturally, but his youngest brother's marriage in Nellore in 1953 when I was all of ten years.
We were a couple of dozen kids of a rough and tumble generation and we didn't participate as dignified guests...we ran all over the place and were busy playing outdoor games.
Suddenly I spotted a farmer carrying on his bent shoulders his farmyard yoke enter the marriage hall. I was familiar with this yoke thing, not so much because I was a village bumpkin in our Muthukur school, but since it was in our Nehurji's election symbol in the election just gone by (1952) in which we all participated riding a tractor carrying sheaves of printed pamphlets flinging them on the wayside and shouting:
"Nehru Congress Jindabad! Vote for 2 bullocks and a yoke!"
We all trooped into the wedding hall guessing something was afoot not to be missed. The yoke was precisely the same that the farmer used in his field and was about 6 feet long and sturdy and heavy as a pig.
And in due time, the Pundit asked the newly-wed couple to get up and stand on his either side about 3 feet apart. And then the farmer brought in his heavy yoke and a couple of youngsters helped to lift it up and hold it aloft. And my MD Uncle (the groom) and my resultant auntie (his bride) sidled up underneath the yoke on either side pretending they were the two bullocks that the farmer drove in his field tickling their (I mean his bullocks') genitals with his short stick....het...het...hey...hey...dhut!
Of course the young volunteers holding the yoke were careful enough not to drop the damn thing on the necks of the couple but just about touch their heads while the Pundit chanted his mantra that went on for what seemed to the couple a couple of hours...they were blushing pink.
At last they were allowed to crawl out and the farmer took back his yoke along with sumptuous sweets and five odd rupees.
And I nudged my father, who was rather enjoying the show, asking what was going on.
And he explained that the Pundit was admonishing the newlyweds that they should always remember this ritual whenever they tend to fight and pull in different directions...that they should plow in unison like the pair of bullocks tied to the marital yoke.
I thought it rather funny...but those were the symbols of a life tied down to agriculture as in the rural Nellore of my time...pretty soon it is going to be a smart city and I don't know what would replace our yoke...maybe a pair of Google Glasses.
By when my own marriage arrived in 1979, I asked our Pundit riding beside me on the Nellore-Tirpuati bus for the wedding at my wife's place if he had arranged for a farmer and his yoke. He laughed and opened his heavy-duty bag underneath our seat and brought forth a mini-yoke made of teak wood about a foot long and weighing a couple of kilos. He of course assured me that he would recite the same mantra that my uncle's chap did.
A few years ago, in 2008, I was a mute witness to my son's marriage in Nellore, again. And I asked our new Pundit (who charged me all of Rs 10,000) if he had arranged for the yoke. And he smiled and brought out his own from his sling-bag...it was made of stainless steel and was less than 6 inches long and weighed nothing.
I asked him how such a tiny yoke would be placed across the necks of the couple whose size didn't change much for all of six generations.
And he said the mantra remained the same and the stainless steel yoke would just be held by him in the air in front of the couple who would be admonished to look at it and bow down to it and say:
"OK...ok...ooookaaay!"
...Posted by Ishani
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