Sunday Wedding (BH:D165)

January 15, 2012

Shyam's sister was getting married in the Ananthapuri Auditorium this morning. Ceremony between 11:45 and 12 noon. Amma agreed to drop me. En route, we stopped to fill up the car. The service lady pointed out the low air situation in the rider side tire. We needed the car in good shape because tomorrow there is another wedding in Amma's native village. A full service air pressure checking station was located on the way out from the petrol station. The digital meter was encased in a metal column adorned with turmeric and kumkum and photos of gods. The man

suggested we change to metallic nozzle caps instead of the plastic ones on all the tires. "But next time you give for service or fill air, make sure that those guys don't steal it."

Though it was a wedding intensive Sunday in the city (at least a dozen were in progress in the different auditoriums) there was a sizable crowd already in the humongous Ananthapurai auditorium one hour ahead of the time. Dressed in mundu and an elegantly striped white kurta, Shyam was quite the social butterfly. "My wedding was so much easy," he says, "I just had to come sit on the dais for it. Now I have so many things running through the head, it is blank". I could relate, having played the brother of the bride role only four months ago. I took a seat on the 5th row of the stadium seating arena. I had an hour to look around.

A Caucasian family, three generations, were seated in the front row on the other side. The grandmom and dad were dressed in churidar and kurta. The granddad had a pony tail that was tied up deceptively like an Hindu 'kudumi'. The next generation was dressed in shirt and saree and the youngest member, hardly three years old, was very cute in a silk 'pavada' and blouse.

I noticed all eyes turn abruptly to the left entrance. A lanky, white lady, dressed in a classy 'kasavu' saree had entered with her daughter in 'pavada' and blouse, leading her hanging on to her pinkie. They quickly had a bunch of attendant hosts gather around and get them seated in the first row. A lady brought them bunch of jasmine garlands for their hair. Another put it on their hair. An uncle attempted to be playful with the little girl.

The young woman talking to this white lady was relentless in her head bobbing. I realized that how I must have also come across to Americans in the first few years there. Every sentence, sometimes every word was accompanied by intense shaking of the head and vigorous nodding. Even when the white lady was midway of a question or statement, the head of the listener would commence motion and an unstoppable sentence would spill out interrupting.

Train of thought begins chugging in my head.

Do we Indians headbob so much as a lingering effect of the initial centuries of language learning where sounds were accompanied by head movements and hand gestures? 

It is still practiced in some ancient Namboothiri families in north Kerala. Michael Wood has documented it in his 'Story of India' documentary where he talks about this being possibly the world's first language.

Did these incessant movements make give an unfair impression of servility to the numerous foreign traders and invaders who came to India's shores?

Do we continue to do it because rote learning in our school system instills a subconscious delusion that there are only a limited number of statements in the world and we already know what will follow once we hear the first few words?

Is this why we have a tolerance for boringly predictable and cliche-driven movies and TV shows?

Is the fact that we are loud talkers tied to our being lousy listeners?

The white lady's husband entered. My thought train derailed. He was an equally lanky Indian with a shiny, clean shaved head. The massive reflectors erected on either side of the dais for the video cameras had stiff competition from the top of his head. 

This drew me to take a survey of the variety of baldness on display.

Plenty heads had hair resembling a backyard fence. Running from side burn to side burn through the back fencing the clear field on top.

Some had more hair than a fence. A semicircular army of hair in retreat from the battle field.

Few had a ridge of wispy long hair right in the middle of the head flanked by blankness.

A 60-something uncle who sat in front of me could have been a phrenologist's delight. He makes me suspect that varicose vein can happen even on the head.

But it looked like the men had resigned to, compromised with and perhaps even proud of their follicular fate. There were no cases of desparate combovers or toupees.

After the first round of feasting, the auditorium became fuller with the full stomachs filing back in. Row after row,each section of the auditorium revealed a family tree. This was obviously a congregation of siblings, cousins, uncles, nephews, aunts, granddads and so on separated by small degrees of genetic variation. Everyone was dressed for their Sunday wedding best which made the venue a riot of colors.

Despite the overnight hike in the cost of flowers, owing to Makaravilakku festival in Sabarimala, the dais was beautifully done with jasmine garlands. Strings with small, shapely mirrors formed a discrete back curtain behind the Ganesh idol, sparkling frequently.

After the baldness survey, it was unavoidable that my attention turned to feminine hairdos. This was a great sample population for of thick, long, black hair.

The more I looked, the more characters from Malayalam fiction and Keralan legends manifested before me among this crowd.

There were the heroines of M.T. Vasudevan Nair's works walking around with their expressive faces.

Traveling further back in time, the virtuous and bold ones that Kottarathil Shankunni talks about were seated at regular intervals.

From even further back, some of C.V. Raman Pillai's fictionalized real charmers had reincarnated.

A handful of gorgeous yakshis with 'panankula' (palm flower) like hair;

Even some stunning bhagavathys who inspired worship centuries ago.

A fascinating assembly of the venerable, exquisite Malayalee feminity.

Evidently, this was a very productive, elaborate half hour of ogling.

"Vayinottam" as it is called in Malayalam.

In all their splendor on such wedding days, I would assume that these wives across the age spectrum, inspire their husbands to relive their own first nights.

A pretty, eligible bachelorette glides through the aisles. Her mummy assists. She spends an inordinate amount of time chatting with a dude in front of the video cameras. Do an anthropologist and an evolutionary psychologist get wings each time a maiden unnecessarily adjusts her hair while talking to a young man?

A tall, gym-going young man in fitting full sleeve shirt and jeans, has dark glasses

balanced on his jel-haired head. Flamboyant, he has a stud on his right ear. I won't forget him because his pert ass obstructed my view of the wedding later.

The final minutes before the wedding, I spent watching the clash of two social butterflies. Both of them must be in their late 40s. One was from the groom's side and the other from the bride's. Exceptionally charming women, they went about meeting and greeting the guests carefully avoiding each other's turf. They even refused to make eye contact with each other. Both seemed aware of their elevated

special status among the families. I am sure soon after this wedding has unionised the families, they will become good friends.

The chenda and nadaswaram musicians begin their trials.

Younger relatives cheer the groom as he gets onto the dais. Dais is soon crowded with all the relatives. Bride is led in by the traditional 7 lamp carrying ladies. Shyam walks his sister in holding her hand. Having a little sister myself, the memory of days from 25-30 years ago when he must have led her like this to cross the street or

to school, spring to my mind. The bride follows her brother with a smile. In the vibrant silk saree and classic set of jewelry, she radiates happiness. A betel-leaf and areca nut pair circulates among the hands that receive it and return wholehearted blessings.

After obliging a group of kid amateur photographers, she ensures, doubly carefully, that it is the right foot first onto the dais.

Sacred thread ceremony at 11:51. A maroon box hung above the couple was supposed to shower rose petals. Technical glitch. Since video and still photographers, professional and amateur, are blocking my view,I focus on the box with petals. Some invisible hand attempts to shake the glitch away. The box swings conspicuously attracting the attention of more guests. Blissfully unaware, the bride and groom, exchange rings. Invisible hand wins. Capitalism succeeds. Petals shower as garlands are exchanged.

Unexpectedly the nadaswaram starts playing "Nooru varusham intha maapilayum pennum thaan" song from Rajnikanth's Panakkaran. I don't know if die-hard Rajni fan Shyam had anything to do with it. But it was a pleasant change from what the nadaswaram-chenda troupes usually play at weddings here.

As soon as the bride and groom stand up, the hungrier guests rush to the dining area. I give the rush 10 minutes to pass and then follow.

Akshaya catering service is in charge of the feast. Impressive. I can identitify at least 3 different vegetables in the 'aviyal'. Catering services here frequently reduce aviyal to a turmeric covered mash of shredded coconut with real veggies making only rare cameos. A very tasty "koottu curry". Real vegetables in the sambar too. Delightful.

Three varieties of payasam: 'ada', 'nethran pazham' (banana) and 'paal with boli'. The 5-6 year old sitting next to me insists on receiving the 'rasam' and buttermilk in his small palm. The buttermilk server passed him by. "Kittiyila!" ( Idid not get!) he shouts!

His little chin is a small sample of the entire feast in bits.

"kazhinjo?" (are you done?) I ask. He shakes head affirming. 

"Happy aayo?" (Happy?). He smiles. He sure was.

The great Indian log jam in the area outside the dining area as satisfied and hungry guests jostle. It is difficult to make one's way through. Malayalees can turn on a dime if they see a familiar face! This leads to unexpected collisions with close followers. Some ungracious gracing is inevitable.

I found Shyam still on the dais with the newly married couple who were going through photo session. I must have looked pretty content from the feast, but I made it a point to tell him so. The day is far from over for this man in charge, but I could go home and take a pleasant feast-induced nap!

To compensate for the feastly indulgence during lunch, took an our long walk in the evening. Went to the zoo & museum campus. Crowd was less than usual. Plenty of couples of all ages spread out on the lawns. Groups of friends and excursion teams as well. Non-local set of guys busy on their cellphone. In fact, a huge number of folks talking on cellphone. These beautiful lawns and park area have become the romantic mobile phone conversation destination of the city.

An exhibition of Geeyo Pillai's paintings at the KCS Pannikar gallery. Inconsistent quality in the paintings that were created between 1969 and 2011. The exhibition is titled 'Ma Nishada' (Stop Hunter) the famous Valmiki quote. The theme is the social unrest and atrocities of the powerful and the privileged. 

Nishagandhi dance and music festival starts from Jan 20th. Impressive array of performers lined up for the seven evenings.

Another wedding tomorrow.