Preparations for a Big Fat Indian Wedding

Surabhi walks down the memory lane and tells us about a lavish wedding preparation in the family. She was a little girl, in class II then. An exclusive for Different Truths.

On a hot summer afternoon, the postman brought a telegram that informed Buaji’s eldest daughter’s wedding, which was fixed for November. My Mom and Dad shared this happy news over lunch. An STD call was booked, and after a long anxious wait, it connected.

The wedding was in Kandra (near Jamshedpur) where they had made their own township, which included two sheet glass foundries, residential complex, recreational areas, Engineer’s Club, two schools, an artificial lake, agricultural farm area and a sprawling huge bungalow, that housed their eight children along with my Buaji and Fufaji.

The family was (and is) into manufacturing sheet glass, which they had inherited from their great grandparents, who were pioneers in this business with the honour of having the first sheet glass plant in India, in the city of Bahjoi (UP) The technology was brought from Japan by Mr. I. C. Vashnay, who was my Fufaji’s father. His son (my Fufaji) specialised in glass technology from Glasgow. He was very jolly, hardworking and travel savvy, so travel savvy that all his children never had a singular territorial citizenship, eight in number, they were all born in different countries, which no less made him the talk among his relatives and friends.

Well, this flourishing businessman was getting his eldest daughter married and this was a big event for my Mom and Dad, as they were the ‘mama’ and ‘mami’, who held an incredibly special place in their sister’s sasural.

Fifteen days following the telegram, a big parcel arrived, boldly stamped from Kandra (Bihar), sealed securely and well packed in double layered Markeen cloth. Mr. Chatterjee, our office clerk, received the parcel and gave it to Mom. She opened it with lot of care; I observed this, standing close by, eating curd from a bowl.

Mom’s eyes lit up, as lovely colours popped up under the polythene packet. Wow! A nice golden twinkle running fabric, in several meters of length, a bright magenta zari saree with golden motifs, a yellow one with bright red zari border, a dull golden sherwani fabric and another fabric with a copper sheen. All unstitched fabrics with a letter that read:

Dear Suman and Lajpat,

I am sending this parcel in advance so that you can get the frocks stitched for the girls and ready the sherwani for Lajju and Anshu.

Hope you like both the sarees, I have sent everything, way in advance so that all of you can match in the same colour palette that we are getting our dresses, tailored. Do make Surabhi and Namrata learn a dance too, you will need to pair up dresses for four major ceremonies, the list of things you have to bring are:

·         Two sets of clothes for all my children, father-in-law, and mother-in-law.

·         Four Chawkis

·         A nuth in gold (nose ring)

·         A pair of bichuas (toe rings)

·         Twenty-one ginnis in gold

·         Fifty-one ginnis in silver

·         Copper and silver utensils

Please come at least one week prior to the start of the celebrations.

With love,

Manna (Manorama).

Florists from Kolkata were booked in advance, Zari stockists (Pande Brothers) were booked for sarees, TBZ in Bombay and Kashi Ornament House in Allahabad for jewellery, Shehanai players, Dholakwalas, Sitar players, renowned musicians and classical music players were booked from Varanasi, Kolkata, and Mumbai. Western Orchestra was booked in advance along with the dance troop of Russian dancers through the Russian engineers (who stayed in factory premises) well in advance. Silverware was ordered by Viners, silk carpets were bought from Kashmiri Emporium, dress code of drivers and house staff was also decided in advance, fleet of vintage cars and Rolls Royce were booked and entire Kandra township was bustling with preparations for the big wedding, right from the small personal railway station to the adjoining forest, like a necklace of heavy pearls.

Well, back in Allahabad, my Mom, my sister and I, on a pleasant breezy Saturday evening put our frock fabric and sarees in a bag and along with my younger sister, we rode in the rickshaw, crossing the University Road from Belvedere Press Campus through Mayo Hall Sports Complex, BHS, Dhobi Ghat, Thornhill Road to Civil Lines.

Rickshaw rides were pleasantly long, and we were thoroughly enjoying the trip as our rickshaw puller was quite a cheerful and interesting fellow. Mom had an extensive shopping list and both of us kept dreaming of our frocks to be stitched at LG Ramchand and each of us wanted a belt and a baby collar with scallops to fancy up our attire. My sister desired a bow and pockets too. Mummy kept the slightly bulky bag in the hood of the rickshaw and secured it with her hand.

As we approached Whites Drycleaners, we noticed a few scooters parked in front of the shop and my eyes curiously looked over at the transformer pole which had two boards fixed onto it. I read out the words loudly, “खतरा 440 VOLT”, my sister   too repeated it and we asked Mom about the skull and bone symbol it showed. The rickshaw fellow was quick to respond, as he gathered his wit and said, “Bitiya it’s a great danger sign, if you touch it, you will burn and look like the ghost in the picture.”

Meanwhile, mom was busy taking out the money from her wallet to send off the rickshaw puller. We both got down quickly and managed to get into the dry-cleaning shop, Mom inquired from them about the dying of silk sarees and how the colour came to near perfection, as her saree was very precious – hand woven with real silver tone Zari on it. She asked me to take out the saree from the bag. I looked at my sister in utter confusion, as the bag was nowhere.

Oh God! We had forgotten the bag on the rickshaw hood, my mom rushed out of the shop to look for the rickshaw fellow who had already fled and was nowhere to be found.

We started to sob, while the shopkeeper too tried to look for him, riding a scooter. It was all so sudden and came to us as a shock. The beautiful sarees and the precious twinkle frock fabric, turned into our tears, completely confused, sad and panicked, we looked over to our mother who was then, just quiet.

Photos sourced by the author and visual by Different Truths