The marriage season

Back from an assignment, I discovered that my little daughter was in a jubilant mood. She held a wedding card in her hand which said, ‘...

Back from an assignment, I discovered that my little daughter was in a jubilant mood. She held a wedding card in her hand which said, ‘Vaishali weds Anil’. A glance at it revealed that our neighbour’s daughter was to be a bride. “So, the marriage season is back,” I observed, half in jest. My daughter was furious at my tepid response and stomped off. She was clearly looking forward to a grand celebration and found my reaction contemptible.

We were at the wedding venue well in time. The bride’s father was at the gate to receive us. He promptly called his son to guide us to the food tables and asked us to have dinner while we waited for the bridegroom’s party.

Twenty minutes later, there was a burst of crackers and loud drum beats, as fireworks lit up the sky. We hastily finished our meal and parked ourselves in a gallery, along with the other 100-odd guests, to watch the ceremony.

What followed was amazing. Dressed in traditional but simple clothes, the bridegroom was received by the bride’s family members with garlands. They escorted him to the platform, where a priest was sitting on a chair, holding a mike in his hand. He was introduced to the bridegroom and the guests.

The priest ordered the bride to be presented before him so that the ceremony could begin. Soon the bride dressed in an off-white lehanga-choli, flanked by a friend, arrived on the scene. She held a lighted candle in a tray decorated with flowers and few puja items. Unlike most Hindu marriages which are considered incomplete without the mandatory seven circles around the nuptial fire, accompanied by complicated Vedic rituals, this one was simple in the extreme. It lasted just 20-25 minutes.

The presiding priest made the bridal couple stand in front of the images Mahatma Buddha and “Baba Saheb” Ambedkar with bowed heads. He sprinkled some sacred water on the bridal couple and encircled them with a couple of rounds of white threads. A few verses from the scriptures were then read out. Minutes later, he asked both to prostate before the images of Buddha and Ambedkar and pay their respects to them.

Next, the priest invited the girl to garland the bridegroom and touch his feet. Then it was bridegroom’s turn to garland the bride, place sindoor in her hair and tie a mangalsutra around her neck. This done, the priest declared the couple, husband and wife and invited the guests to bless them.

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At the end of it, my daughter was a disappointed little lady. She had nursed dreams of an exciting wedding with lots of fun and frolic. “This is not a wedding,” she sulked. “No songs, no dances, no fun!”

“This is a different kind of wedding,” I told her. She remained unconvinced, but I was glad of an opportunity to experience the simplicity and solemnity of a Buddhist wedding in Raipur.