It’s a quiet, quiet night…melting snow dripping outside my window, snoring dogs keeping me warm inside. I can hear some insect fidgeting, and my fingers tapping on the keyboard..That’s it.
Last week, precisely at this hour, we nine cousins, four sisters-in-law, two nieces, seven nephews, innumerable grandkids and some doughty seniors— we all were singing and clapping and watching little shows being put up by little units of this large Bengali family. Spirits were high, voices were hoarse, laughter was rampant, and it had every component of that very special day in Bong weddings—“Bau bhaat” ( the first meal cooked by the bride in her new home), and “Phool Sojjo” (the first night /nuptials/meeting of the couple, which has to be sabotaged by every spirited soul of that generation). More about that later, but you need to get a quick idea of what this family went through, to reach the penultimate day of this wedding.
The wedding had been arranged in Baroda, in a comfortable hotel which had two wings booked for the families of the bride and groom. Bengali weddings, with their jubilant rituals for blessing the couple ( we exchange family sides for the blessing bit), amidst conch blowing and caterwauling ( only Bengalis do that with conviction), and trays of gifts and food ( including a big fish) can overwhelm an entire hotel. The staff will remember that wedding event for some time—till the next Bengali wedding comes along!
Four generations, 60 luggage pieces, one bride and her niece, 50 parcels of food….all that had to be hauled into 4 different train compartments in ten minutes. And yes, only a vague idea of the allotted seats was floating around. Those seven nephews and the grandkids did a magnificent job of getting everything inside…their fathers handled the train conductor and the seats…and we cousins dredged up memories of earlier weddings, summer vacations and chaotic escapades, sang songs and added some spice and gossip to every event of the wedding which had happened in Baroda. The ten hour journey to Pune was noise and song for the kids, rest and sleep for the oldies, and just not enough time for us cousins to catch up on life.
Pune station was all about six minutes of synchronised unloading ( I was so impressed by our men and their magnificent muscles!), stuffing luggage and people into a bus, and dropping 27 folks ( me included) at one house, and driving away with the others to the actual marriage home. Mattresses and pillows had been stockpiled in 4 large rooms…A quick segregation into men, girls, women and old men, and sleep never felt so inviting! No one slept till 3 am. Laughing voices from every room finally changed into tired snores and sighs, till the morning mayhem began.
By this time, two hours after the first paragraph, we “older folks”, i.e. the uncle-and-aunt generation, had been sent back home and the cousins and friends of the groom got down to some serious mischief. Every family has many a gory tale about sabotaging this first night of the new couple. Crisp Papads under the bedsheets, multiple alarms hidden all over the room, people hiding in the loft/below the window etc etc— Its all part of the evening fun and the new couple was sporting and smart and savvy. The kids returned home and we older folks heard every detail and nuance of the fun times.
The final day had a zombie like feel to it. I was drained, tired and so ready to collapse in a heap. That couldn’t happen, not when I was surrounded by such affectionate attention and care. I just had to ask for tea/water/newspaper/food/time/anything else, and there would be kids running to get me whatever I wanted…there would be concern from my cousins if I yawned or stretched..there would be hugs from my aunts and uncles when they realised that I would be leaving the next day. So much of regard, so much of care, so much of chaos and yet, I would not have missed this wedding for anything.
I will remember, for a very long time, that collective groan which would erupt daily, when “Puris and Aaloo sabzi” was announced for breakfast ( and then, the energy with which puris were devoured)…the serving of meals by one batch of family ( and then, we serving meals to that batch of family)… the conveyer belt system of clothes being ironed, saris being draped, flowers and jewellery being shared ( and then, the after party postmortem)…the entire family staying up and singing Antakshwari songs till I was despatched to the airport at 2.30 am.
On the penultimate night, after the kids had returned from the marriage house, regaled us older folks with the events of the evening, and fallen asleep at 4.30 am and sleep was still eluding me. My sisters and aunt were snoring loudly. I crept out of the room to find a quieter room to sleep in. After checking every room and finding no quiet place, I sat on the stairs and listened to the house orchestra of snores and sighs, a wave of self-pity swept over my tired mind. “ Was there no place in this house where I could sleep?!”..And then, riding behind that wave of self pity, came that joyous thought, “ How blessed am I , to be in the midst of so many people who care enough, love immensely and accept my quirks totally, even though I am a distant cousin who has chosen to live in a distant hill town, and is rarely in touch!”
That was enough to remind me…Family is Family…and big boisterous Bong weddings are Big, Boisterous and Memorable weddings!