The whole nine yards...
I was never the kinds who was excited about marriage. Wedding? yes. Marriage? Not really.
I liked the kanjeevarams, the wedding invitation, demanding gifts, seeing half my batch at the wedding hall, the family gatherings, the make up, the bridal glow getting at beauty parlours, the idea of the yellai chaapaadu etc.
I wasn't a big fan of the smokey homams, the what seemed like hundred saree changes, the embarrassments during Nalangu, seeing my dad cry, me crying in front of guests, having my brother look me in the eye and ask me if I was alright, wearing the Ra-raaa like head ornaments, uttering Sanskrit that didn't make any sense to me, and of course the good byes.
Having gone through this, I often asked myself if I would do it again. Renewing vows that is. I didn't think I would survive another wedding. The standing, the sitting, the uncomfortable clothes, the countless namaskarams...
But I witnessed something a week ago. I witnessed a marriage. It was fun watching the "bride" get dressed, get shy. The strapping groom in his pattu veshti fervently uttering Sanskrit shlokas he fully understands. Together they performed all the rituals while maintaining a composure I wish I could have.
While I was running around greeting and taking care of guests and making excuses to be with my adorable niece, all the time hoping that my madisaar would stay in place and that guests notice my fancyily studded blouse that made braving Ranganathan street worth while, my 60 and 55 year old parents in law sat, stood, did namaskaarams and pradakshinaas, prayed, sought blessings and blessed us. Not a complaint nor sigh across their faces.
I don't remember watching the movie "The Whole Nine Yards", but this recent nine yard and panchagajam experience made sense to me.
I liked the kanjeevarams, the wedding invitation, demanding gifts, seeing half my batch at the wedding hall, the family gatherings, the make up, the bridal glow getting at beauty parlours, the idea of the yellai chaapaadu etc.
I wasn't a big fan of the smokey homams, the what seemed like hundred saree changes, the embarrassments during Nalangu, seeing my dad cry, me crying in front of guests, having my brother look me in the eye and ask me if I was alright, wearing the Ra-raaa like head ornaments, uttering Sanskrit that didn't make any sense to me, and of course the good byes.
Having gone through this, I often asked myself if I would do it again. Renewing vows that is. I didn't think I would survive another wedding. The standing, the sitting, the uncomfortable clothes, the countless namaskarams...
But I witnessed something a week ago. I witnessed a marriage. It was fun watching the "bride" get dressed, get shy. The strapping groom in his pattu veshti fervently uttering Sanskrit shlokas he fully understands. Together they performed all the rituals while maintaining a composure I wish I could have.
While I was running around greeting and taking care of guests and making excuses to be with my adorable niece, all the time hoping that my madisaar would stay in place and that guests notice my fancyily studded blouse that made braving Ranganathan street worth while, my 60 and 55 year old parents in law sat, stood, did namaskaarams and pradakshinaas, prayed, sought blessings and blessed us. Not a complaint nor sigh across their faces.
I don't remember watching the movie "The Whole Nine Yards", but this recent nine yard and panchagajam experience made sense to me.
posted by DSK at 4:58 AM
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