When was the last time since you had gone for somebody's wedding? Me? It was a year and a half ago. This poem explains about a typical South Indian middle-class family's visit to their friend's marriage. It is written primarily from the view of a 6 month old infant who is dazed by this "big" journey away from his cosy cot. The idea was to make the readers feel the situation's environment from a different perspective. Here it goes.
He then watches his father
basking in the glory of introductions,
forced handshakes and exchanged smiles.
His head swivels to take in
the flowers, the aroma, the chants and the people
all at once, Oh, its too much!
Disinterested, his begins wailing again.
The bride and the groom await
in holy silence near the sacred fire;
the bride bedecked in fresh flowers and jewels sparkling,
the groom handsome and shining in all glory,
as the ghee is poured,
with hymns and prayers offered
while their well wishers jabber away oblivious
to the sacrilegious ceremony and its developments.
Men hurry about, swaying to and fro
bearing huge vessels
of delicious paayasam and other morsels alike
to the floor above the festivites,
where the other purpose of the grand occasion
is fulfilled; Amidst all the preparations,
the sounds of the beats increase
and up is our infant still and alert
strangely, so are those assembled.
The knot is tied and offered are the blessings
as the couple shyly stand
Vishnu-Lakshmi incarnate.
They now leave, amidst burps and goodbyes
stomachs filled with sambaar and paayasam.
His sister all but tired
on her father's lap whose thoughts are elsewhere
all focused on the workload at his office.
The baby, his mouth smeared with the remains of the feast
sleeps on an exhausted mother's shoulder,
head lolling about, on the bumpy ride back home.
The giant affair is over
and thus is his day.
The wailing child
cooed over by his sensible sibling,
both sandwiched between
their pompous mother and her unfocussed husband
(on the tenterhooks of his boss' call)
all crammed in a rickshaw
his eyes bulge,
under the board which, decorated with palm leaves
read, "WELCOME".
The wailing stops as he searches
his sister run amok with her friends;
her mother, carrying him, joins
into the latest gossip with the bride's acquaintances.He then watches his father
basking in the glory of introductions,
forced handshakes and exchanged smiles.
His head swivels to take in
the flowers, the aroma, the chants and the people
all at once, Oh, its too much!
Disinterested, his begins wailing again.
The bride and the groom await
in holy silence near the sacred fire;
the bride bedecked in fresh flowers and jewels sparkling,
the groom handsome and shining in all glory,
as the ghee is poured,
with hymns and prayers offered
while their well wishers jabber away oblivious
to the sacrilegious ceremony and its developments.
Men hurry about, swaying to and fro
bearing huge vessels
of delicious paayasam and other morsels alike
to the floor above the festivites,
where the other purpose of the grand occasion
is fulfilled; Amidst all the preparations,
the sounds of the beats increase
and up is our infant still and alert
strangely, so are those assembled.
The knot is tied and offered are the blessings
as the couple shyly stand
Vishnu-Lakshmi incarnate.
They now leave, amidst burps and goodbyes
stomachs filled with sambaar and paayasam.
His sister all but tired
on her father's lap whose thoughts are elsewhere
all focused on the workload at his office.
The baby, his mouth smeared with the remains of the feast
sleeps on an exhausted mother's shoulder,
head lolling about, on the bumpy ride back home.
The giant affair is over
and thus is his day.
nice...sweet =)
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDeleteMust not have been the most ideal wedding.. sounds as though the six month old was a little bored.. possibly everyone else.. and the couple. Was this an arranged marriage perhaps? Very interesting.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful..
ReplyDeleteJoin one of leading Kannada matrimonial services in India today. Submit your biodata in less than two minutes