Continued from previous post .. . . .
The bride waiting at the pandal welcomes the bridegroom with a garland, and he in his turn, garlands the bride.
In those days, since both the bride and the groom were children, the maternal uncles came forward to lift them on their shoulders. Sitting on the shoulders, the bride and the groom exchanged garland three times. This way everybody present could see them well and proper exchanging garlands. The uncles had more fun ducking and withdrawing to make it difficult for them to garland each other.
After getting down from the uncle’s shoulders, they were asked to hold hands and led to a flower decorated oonjal (swing). Here the priest got a chance to show off his musical prowess by singing the first oonjal song, and making way for the ladies to continue the singing.
After each song, the nadaswaram player played the song faithfully on his instrument. This usually used to go on for half an hour or so. After this the couple was fed with banana pieces soaked in milk by the elderly Sumangali women. This was followed by the 'pachapdi sutthal' to ward off all evil eyes. The rice balls used for this are made with cooked rice mixed with turmeric powder and lime, giving it a red colour.
The most important part of the wedding is the ‘kanniga danam’ – giving away the bride. The bride’s father sat on a small bale of hay, with his daughter on his lap. She held betel leaves, a coconut and betel nuts in her cupped palms. The priests from both sides recited the lineage of the bride and the groom for three generations – the great grandfather, grandfather and father, along with the gothram thrice. This is a very touching moment, with the nadaswaram falling silent as well as the people. This was the moment when the bride entered the bridegroom’s gothram. The bride was then given away by her parents to the groom to be under his care, to the chanting of mantras.
Next came the presenting of the 'koorai pudavai', the traditional nine yard saree, the main wedding saree to the bride by the groom.
While she went in to change into her new saree with the help of the groom's sister and other ladies, the bridegroom was seated on the same bale of hay (today the chair has taken its place), and the bride’s father washed his feet with the water being poured by her mother.
This was how the guest was received traditionally into the house by the host. The bride entered wearing the new saree with her sister-in-law, looking beautiful and looking forward to a happy life She was seated again on her father’s lap, who now sat on the bale of hay. While the priests chanted mantrams, the bridegroom placed a small yoke on her head, symbolizing that they would have to work together for the success of the marriage. And after this the bridegroom tied the mangalasutra, or thirumangalyam threaded on yellow thread, round her neck. The first two knots were tied by him and the third knot by his sister.
The nadaswaram then went into what is called 'getti melam', playing rapid notes at a high pitch, and the thavil playing loudly to a vigorous beat, while flowers were showered onto the new couple. Sugar and candy sugar were distributed to everyone to celebrate. Members of the bridegroom’s family were given thamboolam with coconut.
Now the bridegroom held the bride’s right hand with his right hand, took the marriage vows, praying to Agni, God of fire, and other gods to bless them with long life and prosperity.
The bridegroom now held the right big toe of the bride and thus walked seven steps all the while chanting the mantram which said she had become his friend and companion, and would remain together for life. This is known as the 'sapthapathi', the actual point at which they are truly wedded.
Next, the couple sat in front of the holy fire, while the priest chanted mantras which the groom repeated. The bride’s brother helped him to offer ‘pori’ (puffed rice) to the homam, signifying that the brother would take care of the bride, if the need arose.
‘Odhi idal’, is an important occasion giving gifts to the wedding couple by the various aunts and uncles on both sides. The priests invoking the blessings of the gods, handed over the gifts to the bride or the groom, naming the giver and the amount, for usually the gifts were in cash. Coins of Rupee one and two denominations were gifted, because they were minted in pure silver. Nobody wanted their names to be left out. Even today this system is carried out in families who follow tradition completely.
After that it was time for ‘aseervadam’, blessings, with the chanting of the mantrams, all elders showered yellow rice on the couple, praying for their long life together.
Two ladies now took arathi to signify that the muhurtham was over. The bride and groom went around performing namaskaram (obeisance seeking blessings) to all senior relatives individually, one by one, unlike today , when it is usual a sabha namaskaram, a single one for all.
More to come. . .
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
THE DAY OF THE WEDDING
Continued from previous post
The wedding day started with the nadaswaram music, waking up everyone, not only the wedding families, but everyone in the whole locality.
The wedding day, an important day in everyone’s life, meant for my mother, an eight year old girl, getting up very early in the morning, long before dawn. She was woken up and taken to the river, along with her friends, all eight or nine year old ones for a ceremonial bath. A few elderly women relatives who accompanied the young girls carried with them all that was needed to dress up the bride at the river bank itself. She was given a new chittadai ( a long piece of cloth like a short sari to wrap round the body with one end over the shoulder), decked with ornaments, had her hair plaited and decorated with gold decoration and fresh flowers. The bride, along with her friends also dressed in their finery, were taken to the temple.
After offering prayers, they walked back home led by the nadaswaram players. On the way back she was made to stop in front of every house, where she was welcomed with aarathi by the elderly housewives and given thamboolam. On reaching home, they were treated to a breakfast of pongal, (preparation of rice and pasi paruppu (Moong dal) tempered with salt, pepper, curry leaves and ginger. This was known as 'Thozhi Pongal'.
I remember enjoying this at my sister Sarada’s wedding. We were then living in Trivandrum city, away from the river. So we just bathed at home, went to the nearby temple and offered prayers, and walked back home. On the way we were stopped at a few houses, and my sister was welcomed with aarathi and thamboolam. Slowly this ritual became obsolete.
The bridegroom on his part had to perform the vritham on the wedding morning – the process of changing from a bachelor to a householder (grihasthan). In those days the bridegroom’s party included their own family priest. This priest would conduct the vritham, which was performed in the same house where the bridegroom’s party was staying.
At the same time the ‘kappu kattal’ ceremony for the bride was done at the pandal, by her parents. After doing a pooja to Lord Vigneswara and other gods, praying for the long life of the bride and the groom, the father, helped by the mother, ties the ‘kaappu’, a yellow sacred thread blessed by the pooja, round the right wrist of the bride.
At both these functions aritual called the ‘paligai thelikarathu’ was also performed. Soaked whole grains – nava danyam – were placed in small palm sized earthen pots. During the vritham and the kaappu kattal, one of the rites was five sumangalis (from both set of families) were asked to drops of water with milk and honey added using the darba grass in all the five pots. This rite was done on all four days of the wedding. On the fifth day, sprouts shot up from the grains – these were taken in procession by the same five ladies to the river and allowed to float away. Later on in cities, where there are no rivers close by, the sprouts were thrown into the wells.
The vratham over, and the boy ready for grihasthrasmam, waited to get married. Seeing no chance of an early marriage, he decided to become a sanyasi and set forth on a journey by foot to Kasi, armed with an umbrella, a palm leaf fan, a walking stick and a copy of the Upanishads( all supplied by the bride’s parents). A pair of footwear was added to this later. The bride’s father stopped him on the way and promised him his daughter in marriage. The kasi yathirai was abandoned, and old relatives of the bridegroom took possession of the fan, umbrella and walking stick. He was brought back to the pandal where the bride was waiting.
This ceremony is still conducted at weddings.
More to come. .
The wedding day started with the nadaswaram music, waking up everyone, not only the wedding families, but everyone in the whole locality.
The wedding day, an important day in everyone’s life, meant for my mother, an eight year old girl, getting up very early in the morning, long before dawn. She was woken up and taken to the river, along with her friends, all eight or nine year old ones for a ceremonial bath. A few elderly women relatives who accompanied the young girls carried with them all that was needed to dress up the bride at the river bank itself. She was given a new chittadai ( a long piece of cloth like a short sari to wrap round the body with one end over the shoulder), decked with ornaments, had her hair plaited and decorated with gold decoration and fresh flowers. The bride, along with her friends also dressed in their finery, were taken to the temple.
After offering prayers, they walked back home led by the nadaswaram players. On the way back she was made to stop in front of every house, where she was welcomed with aarathi by the elderly housewives and given thamboolam. On reaching home, they were treated to a breakfast of pongal, (preparation of rice and pasi paruppu (Moong dal) tempered with salt, pepper, curry leaves and ginger. This was known as 'Thozhi Pongal'.
I remember enjoying this at my sister Sarada’s wedding. We were then living in Trivandrum city, away from the river. So we just bathed at home, went to the nearby temple and offered prayers, and walked back home. On the way we were stopped at a few houses, and my sister was welcomed with aarathi and thamboolam. Slowly this ritual became obsolete.
The bridegroom on his part had to perform the vritham on the wedding morning – the process of changing from a bachelor to a householder (grihasthan). In those days the bridegroom’s party included their own family priest. This priest would conduct the vritham, which was performed in the same house where the bridegroom’s party was staying.
At the same time the ‘kappu kattal’ ceremony for the bride was done at the pandal, by her parents. After doing a pooja to Lord Vigneswara and other gods, praying for the long life of the bride and the groom, the father, helped by the mother, ties the ‘kaappu’, a yellow sacred thread blessed by the pooja, round the right wrist of the bride.
At both these functions aritual called the ‘paligai thelikarathu’ was also performed. Soaked whole grains – nava danyam – were placed in small palm sized earthen pots. During the vritham and the kaappu kattal, one of the rites was five sumangalis (from both set of families) were asked to drops of water with milk and honey added using the darba grass in all the five pots. This rite was done on all four days of the wedding. On the fifth day, sprouts shot up from the grains – these were taken in procession by the same five ladies to the river and allowed to float away. Later on in cities, where there are no rivers close by, the sprouts were thrown into the wells.
The vratham over, and the boy ready for grihasthrasmam, waited to get married. Seeing no chance of an early marriage, he decided to become a sanyasi and set forth on a journey by foot to Kasi, armed with an umbrella, a palm leaf fan, a walking stick and a copy of the Upanishads( all supplied by the bride’s parents). A pair of footwear was added to this later. The bride’s father stopped him on the way and promised him his daughter in marriage. The kasi yathirai was abandoned, and old relatives of the bridegroom took possession of the fan, umbrella and walking stick. He was brought back to the pandal where the bride was waiting.
This ceremony is still conducted at weddings.
More to come. .
Thursday, July 2, 2009
SOME FUN INCIDENTS THAT HAPPENED AT WEDDINGS
Continued from last post
Writing about Mappillai Azhaippu and Nichiya thartham reminds me of two or three incidents that happened at our family weddings.
My sister Sarada got married in 1936. I was just nine years old, but I still remember the commotion raised by one incident on the day of the nichiyathartham. Though I did not understand the reason at that time, later on I got to know the details.
A young child, not even two years old, had gone missing. His father was my mother’s cousin. I still remember the baby, such a beautiful healthy boy. Whenever we visited them or they came over, we used to play with the baby never letting him down from our arms. The baby could not be found anywhere and the whole locality joined with the police to look for the boy. But all in vain. There were whispered rumours that an old lady with a baby was found in Palayam area. Another rumour mentioned that there was a baby crying in a lonely area – all false and misleading.
Despite this, the wedding went on as planned, while the search was going on. In the evening during the Mapillai azhaippu procession, a woman was spotted with a baby in her lap at a shop’s doorway. Upon close observation, it became evident that the baby was the missing child. The woman refused to part with the baby, saying that since the baby’s ears were not pierced she was trying to pierce them. And what she was using was a dressmaker’s pin. It took a lot of cajoling and pressure from my brother and his friends to remove the baby safely from her. The parents’ relief knew no bounds, and all were thankful to God that no harm had come to the baby.
The woman who took the baby turned out to be another cousin of my mother and the baby’s father. She was generally known as Prandhu (Mad) Ponnamma. She used to undergo bouts of madness during certain days, a week or ten days at a time (possibly to do with the phases of the moon).Otherwise she was a perfectly normal woman, with a family of her own. She had also come to the wedding, and had probably in a moment of madness taken the baby away.
Whenever someone did or said something silly, the general teasing in our family was that surely there was some relationship to Prandhu Ponnamma.
In 1941 when Babuji’s father’s cousin got married, Babuji and other youngsters in the family decided to tease the bride and have some fun, for they felt the bride was too hoity toity. During the mappillai azhaippu procession, the bride was also in the car along with the bridegroom – a custom followed in many families. The bride was getting annoyed for she found a young woman sitting in the front seat, talking non-stop to the bridegroom, sometimes even getting familiar like touching his hand or slapping his wrist, which added to her irritation. (In those days, I must mention, boys and girls did not mix freely and kept their distance from one another). In a flash of temper, she had the car stopped, got down and started walking back. The bridegroom and the young girl also got down from the car, laughing and enjoying the bride’s show of temper, followed her and caught up with her. They tried to pacify her - but it took a while, and a lot of patience, for them to make the bride understand that the young girl was one of his male cousins, dressed as a girl in jest, just to tease her. After that she got back into the car with the groom, and the procession started again. And that cousin was none other than Babuji.
Me,(left) Babuji (centre) and Viswam (right, partially seen)
behind the couple at Viswanthan's wedding.
With this incident in mind, I played a similar trick when Babuji’s brother Viswanathan got married in 1952. Babuji’s parents, especially Ammaji , was very thrilled at the idea, and gave me her full support. So on the eve of the wedding I put my plan into action. One of Babuji’s cousins Viswam , a young twelve or thirteen year old boy, was very handsome and slim. I took him into my confidence and told him about my plan. He readily agreed and promised me that he would do his best. With the help of a few women and a lot of pins, hair pins, false hair pieces and falsies, and make up, there emerged a beautiful willowy girl, dressed in a red printed georgette sari, with a matching blouse. His natural shyness added to the charm. Our idea was to introduce ‘Vishi’ to the bride and her people during the nichyathartham ceremony.
Accordingly, ‘Vishi’ entered the pandal during the ceremony and went straight to the groom and sat down next to him. Everyone was taken by her beauty and her audacity. Women started whispering, and Ammaji joined in. She, put the whole blame on me for her son getting friendly with such girls, for Viswanathan was then staying with us in New Delhi, where he was working. We made everyone believe that ‘Vishi’ who was introduced as an employee of AIR, had become friendly with Viswanathan during lunch hours, for their offices were close by. The bride’s face was a study of suppressed anger. After a while Viswam got bored with the game, and he went straight to the bride’s father and took leave of him with folded hands, addressing him as ‘Mama’. The ‘Mama’ also, fully taken in, requested her to stay for dinner and take the thamboolam.
Once we were back from the pandal, we all had a good laugh, and congratulated Viswam on his performance.
Even after so many years, when I started writing this, I cannot forget the appreciation and admiration I got from everyone, including my mother and Moorthy who also attended the wedding.
More in my next. . .
Writing about Mappillai Azhaippu and Nichiya thartham reminds me of two or three incidents that happened at our family weddings.
My sister Sarada got married in 1936. I was just nine years old, but I still remember the commotion raised by one incident on the day of the nichiyathartham. Though I did not understand the reason at that time, later on I got to know the details.
A young child, not even two years old, had gone missing. His father was my mother’s cousin. I still remember the baby, such a beautiful healthy boy. Whenever we visited them or they came over, we used to play with the baby never letting him down from our arms. The baby could not be found anywhere and the whole locality joined with the police to look for the boy. But all in vain. There were whispered rumours that an old lady with a baby was found in Palayam area. Another rumour mentioned that there was a baby crying in a lonely area – all false and misleading.
Despite this, the wedding went on as planned, while the search was going on. In the evening during the Mapillai azhaippu procession, a woman was spotted with a baby in her lap at a shop’s doorway. Upon close observation, it became evident that the baby was the missing child. The woman refused to part with the baby, saying that since the baby’s ears were not pierced she was trying to pierce them. And what she was using was a dressmaker’s pin. It took a lot of cajoling and pressure from my brother and his friends to remove the baby safely from her. The parents’ relief knew no bounds, and all were thankful to God that no harm had come to the baby.
The woman who took the baby turned out to be another cousin of my mother and the baby’s father. She was generally known as Prandhu (Mad) Ponnamma. She used to undergo bouts of madness during certain days, a week or ten days at a time (possibly to do with the phases of the moon).Otherwise she was a perfectly normal woman, with a family of her own. She had also come to the wedding, and had probably in a moment of madness taken the baby away.
Whenever someone did or said something silly, the general teasing in our family was that surely there was some relationship to Prandhu Ponnamma.
In 1941 when Babuji’s father’s cousin got married, Babuji and other youngsters in the family decided to tease the bride and have some fun, for they felt the bride was too hoity toity. During the mappillai azhaippu procession, the bride was also in the car along with the bridegroom – a custom followed in many families. The bride was getting annoyed for she found a young woman sitting in the front seat, talking non-stop to the bridegroom, sometimes even getting familiar like touching his hand or slapping his wrist, which added to her irritation. (In those days, I must mention, boys and girls did not mix freely and kept their distance from one another). In a flash of temper, she had the car stopped, got down and started walking back. The bridegroom and the young girl also got down from the car, laughing and enjoying the bride’s show of temper, followed her and caught up with her. They tried to pacify her - but it took a while, and a lot of patience, for them to make the bride understand that the young girl was one of his male cousins, dressed as a girl in jest, just to tease her. After that she got back into the car with the groom, and the procession started again. And that cousin was none other than Babuji.
Me,(left) Babuji (centre) and Viswam (right, partially seen)behind the couple at Viswanthan's wedding.
With this incident in mind, I played a similar trick when Babuji’s brother Viswanathan got married in 1952. Babuji’s parents, especially Ammaji , was very thrilled at the idea, and gave me her full support. So on the eve of the wedding I put my plan into action. One of Babuji’s cousins Viswam , a young twelve or thirteen year old boy, was very handsome and slim. I took him into my confidence and told him about my plan. He readily agreed and promised me that he would do his best. With the help of a few women and a lot of pins, hair pins, false hair pieces and falsies, and make up, there emerged a beautiful willowy girl, dressed in a red printed georgette sari, with a matching blouse. His natural shyness added to the charm. Our idea was to introduce ‘Vishi’ to the bride and her people during the nichyathartham ceremony.
Accordingly, ‘Vishi’ entered the pandal during the ceremony and went straight to the groom and sat down next to him. Everyone was taken by her beauty and her audacity. Women started whispering, and Ammaji joined in. She, put the whole blame on me for her son getting friendly with such girls, for Viswanathan was then staying with us in New Delhi, where he was working. We made everyone believe that ‘Vishi’ who was introduced as an employee of AIR, had become friendly with Viswanathan during lunch hours, for their offices were close by. The bride’s face was a study of suppressed anger. After a while Viswam got bored with the game, and he went straight to the bride’s father and took leave of him with folded hands, addressing him as ‘Mama’. The ‘Mama’ also, fully taken in, requested her to stay for dinner and take the thamboolam.
Once we were back from the pandal, we all had a good laugh, and congratulated Viswam on his performance.
Even after so many years, when I started writing this, I cannot forget the appreciation and admiration I got from everyone, including my mother and Moorthy who also attended the wedding.
More in my next. . .
Friday, June 19, 2009
THE BRIDEGROOM ARRIVES....
Continued from previous post
An important part of the wedding is the Mapillai azhaippu – introducing the mappillai or the bridegroom to the local residents and the bride’s relations.
Once the bridegroom’s party was well-fed and rested after their arrival, they were taken to the local temple in the evening to get God’s blessings. A pooja would be performed by the priest.
Inside the temple, the bride’s brother welcomed him with a garland and applied sandal paste on his arms and presented him with a new set of veshti. From the temple the bridegroom and the entourage were taken to the wedding pandal in a slow procession with the accompaniment of nadaswaram and gaslights. In the early days it was a procession on foot, with the bridegroom garlanded. But even here changes came over gradually, and the bridegroom was seated in an open coach drawn by slow trotting horses.
When motorcars came on the scene, instead of the carriage, an open car, well decorated with flowers and festoons was used for this. And along with this change, the bridegroom’s veshti changed to western clothes – a suit with shoes to add. As the English culture seeped into our custom, this kind of procession was give up by many modern minded families. And nowadays it is practically obsolete, except in a few cases.
When the bridegroom’s procession reached the wedding pandal, he and his relatives were welcomed ceremoniously with aarathi and thamboolam by the bride’s parents, and conducted to the wedding dais.
Here the purohits were waiting with everything ready for the next ceremony, the formal engagement. The bridegroom was garlanded afresh by the bride’s brother.
I have no memory of my mother telling me if the child bride was seated next to the bridegroom. I have seen in one or two weddings of the 1960s, the bride was excluded from this engagement ceremony. She never came to the pandal. But later on as customs changed, the bride was brought to the pandal, well decked. She was received by the bridegroom’s sister with a garland and kumkumam. Later on the practice of gifting jewellery to the bride became a part of this ceremony.
Among the chanting of the sacred mantrams and the strains of the nadaswaram, thamboolam was exchanged by the father s of the couple in the presence of elders. This exchange was considered the formal engagement.
After this the bride and groom had to perform obeisance (namaskarams) to all senior members of both families, taking care not to leave out anyone. Otherwise this omission would be held against them for life, which was not uncommon in those days.
Once the nichiyathartham was over the bridegroom’s people were led into the house for dinner. Here banana leaves were spread on the floor, the food being served on them. And people would be seated on durries or mats to partake of the feast. This meal being the first of the actual wedding ceremonies, was a grand one with pal payasam boli and vadai, as well as many varieties of vegetables, chips and pickles.
After the meal the men and women would sit on different sides of the pandal and offered betel leaves and nuts to chew on. They were escorted back to the house arranged for them and left there for the night.
In those days the wedding ceremonies lasted five days. People generally had a lot of time on their hands, and the wedding season started only after the harvest. The only entertainment they had was a temple festival or a harikatha kalakshepham. So ceremonies like weddings and upanayanams were conducted for five days.
A five day wedding gave enough time for the bridegroom’s party to get over the tiredness of the onward trip, and ready them for their return trip.
On each day of the wedding all the meals had to be served with different menus with a different pradhaman (essentially a Kerala sweet dish prepared with jaggery and coconut milk) each time. Unlike today, pradhamans were served until everyone was fully satiated.
A certain decorum would be observed by the bride’s family to their sammandhis on all these five days. Early morning coffee, breakfast (idly, vadai and a sweet made with jaggery), and evening tiffin (sojji and bajji) were to be sent to the bridegroom’s place on time and in plenty.
For lunch and dinner, each time men and women from the bride’s family would go over to where the bridegrooms’ family was staying, taking thamboolam and accompanied by nagaswaram, and request each and everyone , without leaving anyone out, to come and partake of the meal. On the day of the muhurtham also, along with the thamboolam a sweet preparation made with milk, and paruppu thengai were included to invite the bridegroom’s people. The paruppu thengai is a sweet prepared with jaggery,roasted chickpeas and coconut bits, and shaped like a cone, a symbol of prosperity and progeny.
A word about the nadaswaram. Nadaswaram was and is an essential part of the wedding ceremony. The then famous Ambalappuzha Brothers were the artistes who played the nadaswaram at my sister’s and my weddings. During the mappilai azhaippu, nicihyathartham on the day of the wedding, would be non-stop music, and the scale wedding was judged by the name of the nadaswaram player.
In the 1980s when my youngest daughter got married in Delhi, the event manager had arranged for the nadaswaram players to come from the south. It was something novel in New Delhi and was appreciated by one and all. Many of our friends and acquaintances congratulated us on the grand wedding.

More to come......
An important part of the wedding is the Mapillai azhaippu – introducing the mappillai or the bridegroom to the local residents and the bride’s relations.
Once the bridegroom’s party was well-fed and rested after their arrival, they were taken to the local temple in the evening to get God’s blessings. A pooja would be performed by the priest.
Inside the temple, the bride’s brother welcomed him with a garland and applied sandal paste on his arms and presented him with a new set of veshti. From the temple the bridegroom and the entourage were taken to the wedding pandal in a slow procession with the accompaniment of nadaswaram and gaslights. In the early days it was a procession on foot, with the bridegroom garlanded. But even here changes came over gradually, and the bridegroom was seated in an open coach drawn by slow trotting horses.
The decorated car at the wedding of my son-in-law's sister in the early 60s
When motorcars came on the scene, instead of the carriage, an open car, well decorated with flowers and festoons was used for this. And along with this change, the bridegroom’s veshti changed to western clothes – a suit with shoes to add. As the English culture seeped into our custom, this kind of procession was give up by many modern minded families. And nowadays it is practically obsolete, except in a few cases.
When the bridegroom’s procession reached the wedding pandal, he and his relatives were welcomed ceremoniously with aarathi and thamboolam by the bride’s parents, and conducted to the wedding dais.
Here the purohits were waiting with everything ready for the next ceremony, the formal engagement. The bridegroom was garlanded afresh by the bride’s brother.
I have no memory of my mother telling me if the child bride was seated next to the bridegroom. I have seen in one or two weddings of the 1960s, the bride was excluded from this engagement ceremony. She never came to the pandal. But later on as customs changed, the bride was brought to the pandal, well decked. She was received by the bridegroom’s sister with a garland and kumkumam. Later on the practice of gifting jewellery to the bride became a part of this ceremony.
Among the chanting of the sacred mantrams and the strains of the nadaswaram, thamboolam was exchanged by the father s of the couple in the presence of elders. This exchange was considered the formal engagement.
After this the bride and groom had to perform obeisance (namaskarams) to all senior members of both families, taking care not to leave out anyone. Otherwise this omission would be held against them for life, which was not uncommon in those days.
Once the nichiyathartham was over the bridegroom’s people were led into the house for dinner. Here banana leaves were spread on the floor, the food being served on them. And people would be seated on durries or mats to partake of the feast. This meal being the first of the actual wedding ceremonies, was a grand one with pal payasam boli and vadai, as well as many varieties of vegetables, chips and pickles.
After the meal the men and women would sit on different sides of the pandal and offered betel leaves and nuts to chew on. They were escorted back to the house arranged for them and left there for the night.
In those days the wedding ceremonies lasted five days. People generally had a lot of time on their hands, and the wedding season started only after the harvest. The only entertainment they had was a temple festival or a harikatha kalakshepham. So ceremonies like weddings and upanayanams were conducted for five days.
A five day wedding gave enough time for the bridegroom’s party to get over the tiredness of the onward trip, and ready them for their return trip.
On each day of the wedding all the meals had to be served with different menus with a different pradhaman (essentially a Kerala sweet dish prepared with jaggery and coconut milk) each time. Unlike today, pradhamans were served until everyone was fully satiated.
A certain decorum would be observed by the bride’s family to their sammandhis on all these five days. Early morning coffee, breakfast (idly, vadai and a sweet made with jaggery), and evening tiffin (sojji and bajji) were to be sent to the bridegroom’s place on time and in plenty.
For lunch and dinner, each time men and women from the bride’s family would go over to where the bridegrooms’ family was staying, taking thamboolam and accompanied by nagaswaram, and request each and everyone , without leaving anyone out, to come and partake of the meal. On the day of the muhurtham also, along with the thamboolam a sweet preparation made with milk, and paruppu thengai were included to invite the bridegroom’s people. The paruppu thengai is a sweet prepared with jaggery,roasted chickpeas and coconut bits, and shaped like a cone, a symbol of prosperity and progeny.
A word about the nadaswaram. Nadaswaram was and is an essential part of the wedding ceremony. The then famous Ambalappuzha Brothers were the artistes who played the nadaswaram at my sister’s and my weddings. During the mappilai azhaippu, nicihyathartham on the day of the wedding, would be non-stop music, and the scale wedding was judged by the name of the nadaswaram player.
In the 1980s when my youngest daughter got married in Delhi, the event manager had arranged for the nadaswaram players to come from the south. It was something novel in New Delhi and was appreciated by one and all. Many of our friends and acquaintances congratulated us on the grand wedding.

At the wedding reception of Gowri and Mohan (left), Babuji shares a joke with a guest.
More to come......
Friday, June 5, 2009
WEDDINGS - Part 3: PREPARING TO WELCOME THE BRIDEGROOM
(Continued from previous post)
A neighbour’s house was made ready for the bridegroom’s party to stay for the duration of the wedding. The occupants of this house would stay with other neighbours for this period. The house, well swept and mopped was decorated with festoons of mango leaves at the entrance door and big beautiful kolams were drawn on the well swept front yard and all the rooms.
The inside kolams were drawn with well ground rice paste, so that they would last for a few days. In the main hall a big bell metal oil lamp would be lit and remained burning. In front of this lamp were place a plateful of betel leaves, nuts, whole turmeric, bananas and two coconuts.

On one side of this were placed in bell metal dishes the various oil – gingelly, coconut – turmeric, soapnut powder, and umikkeri (burnt rice husk for brushing teeth) - all ready for the morning ablutions. On another side, vibuthi, the sacred ash and kukumam for the ladies and sandal paste were also placed. Those days soaps and toothpaste were unheard of.
For sleeping at night plenty of mats (made of dried grass) and jamakkalams, thick sheets in bright patterns,(see picture) were readied. The weather being most accommodating, nothing more was required for a good night’s sleep. (For Viji’s wedding in 1974, we had arranged a vacant flat in West Kidwai Nagar, where we lived, with the permission of the local authorities for the bridegroom’s people to stay.)

Once the bridegroom’s party arrived at the street corner, they were welcomed by the bride’s people warmly to the accompaniment of the auspicious notes of the nadaswaram and escorted to the house arranged for them. After serving them lunch or tiffin, depending on the time of their arrival, they were requested to rest and refresh themselves for the evening function – mappilai azhaippu and nitchiya thartham.
Well, the bridegroom’s party needed all the rest they could avail of, for they were on the road for three four or five days, depending on the place they were coming from. Then mode of travel in those days was the bullock cart. The maximum distance on could travel in a day was seven, eight or ten miles, depending upon the mood of the bullock. The cartcade consisted of six to seven cars according to the number of people travelling. One cart was set apart for the stuff needed to prepare food on the way, for those were hotel less days – including firewood, utensils, groceries and vegetables, as also fodder for the bullocks. Every evening when the carts reached a riverside, or an open space with a well, the journey was stopped for the day. Stretching their cramped bodies and taking baths, they partook of the packed food prepared in the morning before they took the road. In the mornings, the women getting up early, and after a bath , would cook enough for both meals. So by the time they reached the bride’s place, everyone was pleasantly tired, looking forward to the five days of wedding rites and feasts.
Here I would like to share how we travelled from Trivandrum to Allepey for my brother’s wedding in 1937. He was just 22 and my Manni 15. The bridegroom’s party included a number of my brother’s friends and not only our own uncles and aunts on both our parents’ side, but also uncles and aunts of my parents. The wedding of the eldest son in the family definitely was not to be missed by anyone. We left our home early in the morning by 5 am in a hired bus, and reached Quilon around 9.30. From Quilon we travelled by boat to Alleppey, reaching there by dusk. We had a break for lunch at a small island called Ponmudi. The lunch was arranged by our tuition master Anantharama Iyer.
The distance from Trivandrum to Allepey is about 160 kilometers which is covered today by road in three or four hours. The mappila azhaippu procession started from the boat jetty itself. My brother was seated in a horse drawn open coach, surrounded by children on all sides, and taken as a procession to the wedding place. The others either walked, or came by car.
The mappillai azhaippu is a function which takes place on the evening before the wedding.
To be continued
Nadaswaram photo courtesy: Internet
A neighbour’s house was made ready for the bridegroom’s party to stay for the duration of the wedding. The occupants of this house would stay with other neighbours for this period. The house, well swept and mopped was decorated with festoons of mango leaves at the entrance door and big beautiful kolams were drawn on the well swept front yard and all the rooms.
The inside kolams were drawn with well ground rice paste, so that they would last for a few days. In the main hall a big bell metal oil lamp would be lit and remained burning. In front of this lamp were place a plateful of betel leaves, nuts, whole turmeric, bananas and two coconuts.

On one side of this were placed in bell metal dishes the various oil – gingelly, coconut – turmeric, soapnut powder, and umikkeri (burnt rice husk for brushing teeth) - all ready for the morning ablutions. On another side, vibuthi, the sacred ash and kukumam for the ladies and sandal paste were also placed. Those days soaps and toothpaste were unheard of.
For sleeping at night plenty of mats (made of dried grass) and jamakkalams, thick sheets in bright patterns,(see picture) were readied. The weather being most accommodating, nothing more was required for a good night’s sleep. (For Viji’s wedding in 1974, we had arranged a vacant flat in West Kidwai Nagar, where we lived, with the permission of the local authorities for the bridegroom’s people to stay.)
A nadaswaram troupe at a temple procession
Once the bridegroom’s party arrived at the street corner, they were welcomed by the bride’s people warmly to the accompaniment of the auspicious notes of the nadaswaram and escorted to the house arranged for them. After serving them lunch or tiffin, depending on the time of their arrival, they were requested to rest and refresh themselves for the evening function – mappilai azhaippu and nitchiya thartham.
Well, the bridegroom’s party needed all the rest they could avail of, for they were on the road for three four or five days, depending on the place they were coming from. Then mode of travel in those days was the bullock cart. The maximum distance on could travel in a day was seven, eight or ten miles, depending upon the mood of the bullock. The cartcade consisted of six to seven cars according to the number of people travelling. One cart was set apart for the stuff needed to prepare food on the way, for those were hotel less days – including firewood, utensils, groceries and vegetables, as also fodder for the bullocks. Every evening when the carts reached a riverside, or an open space with a well, the journey was stopped for the day. Stretching their cramped bodies and taking baths, they partook of the packed food prepared in the morning before they took the road. In the mornings, the women getting up early, and after a bath , would cook enough for both meals. So by the time they reached the bride’s place, everyone was pleasantly tired, looking forward to the five days of wedding rites and feasts.
Here I would like to share how we travelled from Trivandrum to Allepey for my brother’s wedding in 1937. He was just 22 and my Manni 15. The bridegroom’s party included a number of my brother’s friends and not only our own uncles and aunts on both our parents’ side, but also uncles and aunts of my parents. The wedding of the eldest son in the family definitely was not to be missed by anyone. We left our home early in the morning by 5 am in a hired bus, and reached Quilon around 9.30. From Quilon we travelled by boat to Alleppey, reaching there by dusk. We had a break for lunch at a small island called Ponmudi. The lunch was arranged by our tuition master Anantharama Iyer.
The distance from Trivandrum to Allepey is about 160 kilometers which is covered today by road in three or four hours. The mappila azhaippu procession started from the boat jetty itself. My brother was seated in a horse drawn open coach, surrounded by children on all sides, and taken as a procession to the wedding place. The others either walked, or came by car.
The mappillai azhaippu is a function which takes place on the evening before the wedding.
To be continued
Nadaswaram photo courtesy: Internet
Saturday, May 16, 2009
WEDDINGS - Part Two - GETTING READY
Continued from previous post
The wedding date having been decided, all near and dear ones were informed by word of mouth, or by a short letter. A week before the wedding a small function ‘kaal nattal’ would be held. A pooja would be performed by the bride’s father, under the guidance of the family priest, invoking the gods’ blessings.
After the pooja the first pole of the pandal (marquee) was fixed in the ground - this was the 'kaal nattal'. The pandal, a bamboo structure with a thatched roof would be put up on the street in front of the bride’s house and adjoining houses. The streets of the Brahmin settlements (agraharam) contained houses like the row houses of today one touching the other. The inside of the pandal was decorated with all sorts of festoons, shining globules of different sizes, and paper garlands of various colours. At the entrance of the pandal two full grown banana plants heavy with fully developed fruits, were fixed, as a sign of auspiciousness. A special manamedai, a place for the bridal couple to sit and perform the wedding rites, conducted by the family priest, was also made ready, decorated with kolams. On this day, the bride would also have the 'kappu kattal' ceremony - a sacred yellow thread was tied round on her right wrist after invoking the blessings of all the gods.
Once the 'kaal naattal' was done, the preparation for the wedding also started. Relations came one by one. They along with the neighbours took charge of the preparations, without being told or asked. Someone getting groceries and vegetables from the market, another arranging for fresh milk to be delivered twice daily for the duration of the wedding period, another arranging for the curds to be delivered every evening in mud pots. Banana fruits, a must for every meal of the wedding feasts were bought in bunches and hung from the ceiling. And not to forget banana leaves, bunches and bunches of them.
This takes me to my own wedding and my two Chithappas when they came to attend it. After teasing me for some time and saluting my parents , they went for the heavy stack of banana leaves, cutting them to the needed sizes for the various meals of breakfast, lunch, and tiffin, arranging them according to size and rolling them up in gunny bags, so that they remained fresh for a few days.
Another item to be readied was the thamboolam – plates of betel leaves, betel nuts made into edible kalipaakku, chunambu for the women folk For the men it was betel leaves, raw, whole betel nuts (adakkai) chunnambu and tobacco. These were offered to the bridegroom’s people with respectful requests to partake of them. In today’s world, these are unimportant details, but in weddings of those days, any shortcoming in this was enough to upset an elderly aunt or a bachelor uncle to create a misunderstanding and unpleasantness during the wedding. In 1960, not so ancient, I have myself witnessed two elderly uncles of the bridegroom, getting angry and creating a scene because the bride’s people had started having lunch before they had theirs.
There were other preparations to be done. The womenfolk, relatives as well as neighbours, took charge of the kitchen – cooking, grinding, pounding and making sweets and savouries for ‘seeru’ - that is the eatables given to the sammandhis (bridegroom’s family) to take home for themselves and to be distributed, if they wished. The women folk were adept a making murukku, each one 10 to 12 inches in diameter. Appam , adhirasam and monaharam , the sweets were made with jaggery. Of course a professional cook was appointed to cook for the actual wedding days. Big ‘vaarppu, ‘uruli’, big enough to cook for more than 200 people were borrowed from temples. Every household had its own 'uruli', 'varppu', bell metal pots and pans , large enough to cook for fifty. These items were a must to be given to the bride by her parents at the time of marriage. I was also given such big vessels by my parents.
In today’s weddings, maximum money is spent on silk sarees and gold jewellery. A hundred years ago, it was not so. For the bride the nine yards koorai pudavai was the only item generally, and a couple more nine yard sarees. And for the bridegroom a couple of set of cotton dhothi and angavastharam (small dhoti for the upper body), then known as ‘patharu’, as well as a silk set.

The cost of the ornaments was borne by both sets of parents. These were usually an addigai,(choker necklace) a double stranded gold chain, two pairs of bangles, and a pair of earrings.* The most important of these was the thirumangalyam, which was strung on a manjal saradu – thick strand of cotton fibres, dipped in turmeric. In those days there were no jewellery shops. The goldsmith was asked to come home at an auspicious day and time and gold was handed over to him to make the thirumangalyam and other ornaments.
Our own goldsmith Anantham would be sent for whenever required. He was very honest and trustworthy and good in his work. When my mother asked him once for a silver key ring for herself, he did not take any money for it. Also when my mother got a silver toothpick for my father, he refused to take any money An interesting object in silver he made for my mother .was a pair of silver plavila -jackfruit tree leaves shaped into a spoon pinned by a small stick. This was for us to take kanji (gruel) with when we children used to be ill.
Nowadays the mandapams and caterers take care of all these arrangements. In the beginning when the mandapams were a novelty, all the arrangements, even the caterer had to be fixed by the people concerned. In 1967 when my eldest daughter Raji got married in a kalyana mandapam in Madras, Babuji’s uncle and aunt were there to make all the arrangements. In 1977 our son Bala’s wedding also took place in Madras in a kalyana mandapam. We had an easy time for we were the bridegroom’s party!
Our younger daughter Viji and Gowri got married in Delhi in 1974 and 1986. Though there were one or two kalyana mandapams in Delhi at that time, we had the wedding conducted near our own home under a shamiana put up in a vacant plot of garden.
Back to the old days. The bride’s family would make all the above arrangements and wait for the bridegroom’s party to arrive.
*Diamond earrings came into vogue only in the 1930s. They were not brought ready made. Stones were ordered from dealers and tested and certified by experts. Whenever diamonds were brought at home, my father would have them sent to Professor Sivaramakrishna Iyer, an expert in diamonds, for approval. Anantham, the thattan, would come, and was shown the stones and asked to make the gold setting. Within a week he would be home, with the required gold setting, which looked nothing like gold or an earring setting. The diamonds would be handed over to him one by one for settings by my grandmother, who would watch over him like a hawk, till the 14 stones were set. And as if by magic, after removing the setting from the wax base, and cleaning and polishing, the shining and shimmering thodu were ready.
And the cost? Just Rs. 500/. But it is wrong to say Rs. 500, because Rs. 500 was a very big amount those days.
More to come
Photo of Murukku: courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/godakshin/
Photo of a meal on a banana leaf: courtesy http://www.myrelish.com/
The wedding date having been decided, all near and dear ones were informed by word of mouth, or by a short letter. A week before the wedding a small function ‘kaal nattal’ would be held. A pooja would be performed by the bride’s father, under the guidance of the family priest, invoking the gods’ blessings.
After the pooja the first pole of the pandal (marquee) was fixed in the ground - this was the 'kaal nattal'. The pandal, a bamboo structure with a thatched roof would be put up on the street in front of the bride’s house and adjoining houses. The streets of the Brahmin settlements (agraharam) contained houses like the row houses of today one touching the other. The inside of the pandal was decorated with all sorts of festoons, shining globules of different sizes, and paper garlands of various colours. At the entrance of the pandal two full grown banana plants heavy with fully developed fruits, were fixed, as a sign of auspiciousness. A special manamedai, a place for the bridal couple to sit and perform the wedding rites, conducted by the family priest, was also made ready, decorated with kolams. On this day, the bride would also have the 'kappu kattal' ceremony - a sacred yellow thread was tied round on her right wrist after invoking the blessings of all the gods.
Once the 'kaal naattal' was done, the preparation for the wedding also started. Relations came one by one. They along with the neighbours took charge of the preparations, without being told or asked. Someone getting groceries and vegetables from the market, another arranging for fresh milk to be delivered twice daily for the duration of the wedding period, another arranging for the curds to be delivered every evening in mud pots. Banana fruits, a must for every meal of the wedding feasts were bought in bunches and hung from the ceiling. And not to forget banana leaves, bunches and bunches of them.
This takes me to my own wedding and my two Chithappas when they came to attend it. After teasing me for some time and saluting my parents , they went for the heavy stack of banana leaves, cutting them to the needed sizes for the various meals of breakfast, lunch, and tiffin, arranging them according to size and rolling them up in gunny bags, so that they remained fresh for a few days.
Another item to be readied was the thamboolam – plates of betel leaves, betel nuts made into edible kalipaakku, chunambu for the women folk For the men it was betel leaves, raw, whole betel nuts (adakkai) chunnambu and tobacco. These were offered to the bridegroom’s people with respectful requests to partake of them. In today’s world, these are unimportant details, but in weddings of those days, any shortcoming in this was enough to upset an elderly aunt or a bachelor uncle to create a misunderstanding and unpleasantness during the wedding. In 1960, not so ancient, I have myself witnessed two elderly uncles of the bridegroom, getting angry and creating a scene because the bride’s people had started having lunch before they had theirs.
There were other preparations to be done. The womenfolk, relatives as well as neighbours, took charge of the kitchen – cooking, grinding, pounding and making sweets and savouries for ‘seeru’ - that is the eatables given to the sammandhis (bridegroom’s family) to take home for themselves and to be distributed, if they wished. The women folk were adept a making murukku, each one 10 to 12 inches in diameter. Appam , adhirasam and monaharam , the sweets were made with jaggery. Of course a professional cook was appointed to cook for the actual wedding days. Big ‘vaarppu, ‘uruli’, big enough to cook for more than 200 people were borrowed from temples. Every household had its own 'uruli', 'varppu', bell metal pots and pans , large enough to cook for fifty. These items were a must to be given to the bride by her parents at the time of marriage. I was also given such big vessels by my parents.In today’s weddings, maximum money is spent on silk sarees and gold jewellery. A hundred years ago, it was not so. For the bride the nine yards koorai pudavai was the only item generally, and a couple more nine yard sarees. And for the bridegroom a couple of set of cotton dhothi and angavastharam (small dhoti for the upper body), then known as ‘patharu’, as well as a silk set.
The cost of the ornaments was borne by both sets of parents. These were usually an addigai,(choker necklace) a double stranded gold chain, two pairs of bangles, and a pair of earrings.* The most important of these was the thirumangalyam, which was strung on a manjal saradu – thick strand of cotton fibres, dipped in turmeric. In those days there were no jewellery shops. The goldsmith was asked to come home at an auspicious day and time and gold was handed over to him to make the thirumangalyam and other ornaments.
Our own goldsmith Anantham would be sent for whenever required. He was very honest and trustworthy and good in his work. When my mother asked him once for a silver key ring for herself, he did not take any money for it. Also when my mother got a silver toothpick for my father, he refused to take any money An interesting object in silver he made for my mother .was a pair of silver plavila -jackfruit tree leaves shaped into a spoon pinned by a small stick. This was for us to take kanji (gruel) with when we children used to be ill.
Nowadays the mandapams and caterers take care of all these arrangements. In the beginning when the mandapams were a novelty, all the arrangements, even the caterer had to be fixed by the people concerned. In 1967 when my eldest daughter Raji got married in a kalyana mandapam in Madras, Babuji’s uncle and aunt were there to make all the arrangements. In 1977 our son Bala’s wedding also took place in Madras in a kalyana mandapam. We had an easy time for we were the bridegroom’s party!
Our younger daughter Viji and Gowri got married in Delhi in 1974 and 1986. Though there were one or two kalyana mandapams in Delhi at that time, we had the wedding conducted near our own home under a shamiana put up in a vacant plot of garden.
Back to the old days. The bride’s family would make all the above arrangements and wait for the bridegroom’s party to arrive.
*Diamond earrings came into vogue only in the 1930s. They were not brought ready made. Stones were ordered from dealers and tested and certified by experts. Whenever diamonds were brought at home, my father would have them sent to Professor Sivaramakrishna Iyer, an expert in diamonds, for approval. Anantham, the thattan, would come, and was shown the stones and asked to make the gold setting. Within a week he would be home, with the required gold setting, which looked nothing like gold or an earring setting. The diamonds would be handed over to him one by one for settings by my grandmother, who would watch over him like a hawk, till the 14 stones were set. And as if by magic, after removing the setting from the wax base, and cleaning and polishing, the shining and shimmering thodu were ready.And the cost? Just Rs. 500/. But it is wrong to say Rs. 500, because Rs. 500 was a very big amount those days.
More to come
Photo of Murukku: courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/godakshin/
Photo of a meal on a banana leaf: courtesy http://www.myrelish.com/
Sunday, May 10, 2009
WEDDINGS - A Hundred Years Ago
These days conducting a wedding is very easy, though not very simple, provided the father of the bride has lots and lots of money to spend. Kalyana Mandapams (wedding halls) have appeared all over the place, whether it is a village, or a town or a city. All of them are also heavily booked during the wedding seasons. One used to say jokingly that one has to book the mandapam first and then fix the marriage date. The kalyana mandapam takes care of everything needed for the wedding, from start to finish. The bride’s people are also treated like guests.
Things were different a 100 years back. The first step in deciding the marriage is the exchange and matching of horoscopes. This system is also followed even today when it is an arranged marriage. One can get a horoscope from marriage brokers, or advertise in any of the newspapers. It was not so in those days. The girl’s father had to approach the boy’s father with his daughter’s horoscope and request the boy’s horoscope. After hearing from the girls’ side that the horoscopes matched, the boy’s people would approach their astrologer. The horoscopes were a means of knowing each other’s family tree and gothram. It was considered wrong for a boy and girl of the same gothram to get married. According to my limited knowledge, the matching of the horoscopes was to see that each had a different period of good and bad dasas – so that one could shelter the other one in difficult dasas.
In my mother’s case she got married when she was eight in 1902. It was my paternal grandfather, an advocate who approached my mother’s father, a schoolmaster, for my mother’s horoscope. He was much impressed by my mother’s family, their general behaviour and my mother’s own conduct, for both sets of grandparents lived in the same street. My mother never forgot this unusual act of my Paatta. She always used to say that my parents as well as all their children are well settled in life due to Paatta’s blessings. We the grandchildren never knew our Patta. He died some six years after our parents got married, and just before my parents started their married life.

Once the horoscopes were matched, and both sides happy, the next step was to fix a wedding date. There were no questions asked about dowry, no cash exchanged hands. The ornaments for the bride including the thirumangalyam, or the thali (mangalasutra), were taken care of by both sets of parents. There was no boy-meet-girl also. Everything was decided by the parents. But things progressed a little bit as time went by. In 1927, when my eldest sister got married, it was her mother-in-law with her sister who came to see the girl. My sister was barely twelve years old at that time. More changes happened when my two other sisters got married in the late 1930s. They had the chance to see their life partners before getting married – they even had a chance to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, though anyone hardly used that option, because the parents’ decision was final.
When Babuji and I got married in 1945, we saw each other only after the wedding date was fixed.
My father-in-law and his elder brother came to see me. My husband who was working in Delhi only had a short leave to attend his own wedding.
More to come...
Things were different a 100 years back. The first step in deciding the marriage is the exchange and matching of horoscopes. This system is also followed even today when it is an arranged marriage. One can get a horoscope from marriage brokers, or advertise in any of the newspapers. It was not so in those days. The girl’s father had to approach the boy’s father with his daughter’s horoscope and request the boy’s horoscope. After hearing from the girls’ side that the horoscopes matched, the boy’s people would approach their astrologer. The horoscopes were a means of knowing each other’s family tree and gothram. It was considered wrong for a boy and girl of the same gothram to get married. According to my limited knowledge, the matching of the horoscopes was to see that each had a different period of good and bad dasas – so that one could shelter the other one in difficult dasas.
In my mother’s case she got married when she was eight in 1902. It was my paternal grandfather, an advocate who approached my mother’s father, a schoolmaster, for my mother’s horoscope. He was much impressed by my mother’s family, their general behaviour and my mother’s own conduct, for both sets of grandparents lived in the same street. My mother never forgot this unusual act of my Paatta. She always used to say that my parents as well as all their children are well settled in life due to Paatta’s blessings. We the grandchildren never knew our Patta. He died some six years after our parents got married, and just before my parents started their married life.

My third sister and her husband - this photograph
was taken in a studio in Trichy in 1940, a year after her wedding.
was taken in a studio in Trichy in 1940, a year after her wedding.
Once the horoscopes were matched, and both sides happy, the next step was to fix a wedding date. There were no questions asked about dowry, no cash exchanged hands. The ornaments for the bride including the thirumangalyam, or the thali (mangalasutra), were taken care of by both sets of parents. There was no boy-meet-girl also. Everything was decided by the parents. But things progressed a little bit as time went by. In 1927, when my eldest sister got married, it was her mother-in-law with her sister who came to see the girl. My sister was barely twelve years old at that time. More changes happened when my two other sisters got married in the late 1930s. They had the chance to see their life partners before getting married – they even had a chance to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, though anyone hardly used that option, because the parents’ decision was final.
When Babuji and I got married in 1945, we saw each other only after the wedding date was fixed.
My father-in-law and his elder brother came to see me. My husband who was working in Delhi only had a short leave to attend his own wedding.
More to come...
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