My new Brahmin husband….by default!
The alarm rings cantankerously as I arouse myself sleepily from the clutches of Hypnos (greek god of sleep) & trudge to the bathroom. My sister-in-law (brother’s wife), Urvee & me have resolved to cleanse ourselves by playing the docile, wide-eyed devotion dripping bahu / beti.
With an approved look from my proud parents, we head to hobnob with the reverential gods & goddesses of Mumbai that fateful Sunday.
The deity at Siddhivinayak temple blesses us with a tolerant aplomb as we pour our outrageous desires into the ears of lord Ganesh’s wahan, his mouse (this is a hindu ritual followed in Maharashtra wherein the message to Ganeshji is sent via the Undir which gets delivered with “top priority” status assigned to it).
Once the job well done, we prance off to Mahalakshmi Temple which is the abode of the Goddess of Molah, who sitting smug on a lotus rules the world. The goddess’s kind bovine eyes smiles at us knowingly as we are immersed in serious prayer to please her.
Our rituals soberly finished, we head to an archaic pundit sitting outside the temple who Urvee informs would paste a kumkum tilak on our foreheads & bless us in exchange for some spare coins.
As we bow in profound veneration & await our brow’s to be adorned with the pious bottu, the pundit applies a liberal helping of kumkumam on our foreheads as well as mang (the hair parting above the forehead) & pats my head in couplet to deliver the blessings straight from the goddess Mahalakshmi.
I stare dumbfounded at Urvee who’s mang has been decorated similarly by the said pundit & ditto gets two pats (her share of blessings) from the goddess.
I snarl at Urvee pointing out the insipid act by this callous messenger of god who with one stroke of his thumb changed our fates & now, both of us are wedded to him. Dear God! How stupid! She scolds. I’m adamant.
We start discussing our new found status after the “mang bharai” ceremony. If one goes by the hindu scriptures, the status & caste of the husband is involuntarily transferred to the wife. So now both our varnas have changed. We are “BRAHMINS” from now on. The topnotch position in the hindu ladder & revered by the lesser lot. Wow! That feels kinda important, I tell myself as I bask in the new found consciousness of high authority.
But one look at the shriveled Brahmin sends shudders of repulsion down our already dismembered spines. We giggle as we discuss the carnal capacities of this over ripe individual who has long forgotten our presence & is busy blessing other unsuspecting sirens.
Another important point of discussion is the change in relationship between Urvee & me. We are soutans now & will have to fight for the attention of our withered husband.
As our exposition probes deeper with intricate details, we realize that our new swamy should support our Grihasta Jivan. I consult my minds eye which helps me fast forward to the scene wherein my emaciated husband is handing over some spare change & a handful of raw rice as the bhiksha collection for the day. I reason. Is this enough for Urvee & me? Nah! So what’s the next option?
Re-wind, fast forward to another scenario wherein I’m supporting my swamy. I touch my master’s feet as I come in after a long days work. He blesses me in a grave undertone & commands me to take a bath & hurry to join him in his sandhya puja & arti. Heck..noooo…my food craving stomach grumbles as I dutifully head for the snanagar.
Stop…rewind…pause…breathless..hopeless...sigh… trepidation… anxious fear…claustrophobic!
Urvee : Buntydi…this is harrowing. Can’t we do something about it?
Me : Err…well…we can actually.
Urvee :Well then what are you waiting for? Can’t you see, I’m truly distressed?
Me : Ok…lets not spill the beans about our supposed vivah to anyone. It can be like
our very own secret that cannot be broken in a thousand years.
Urvee : I cross my heart & vow “thou shall not mention this to anyone. Not even your
Bhaiya”.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
With an approved look from my proud parents, we head to hobnob with the reverential gods & goddesses of Mumbai that fateful Sunday.
The deity at Siddhivinayak temple blesses us with a tolerant aplomb as we pour our outrageous desires into the ears of lord Ganesh’s wahan, his mouse (this is a hindu ritual followed in Maharashtra wherein the message to Ganeshji is sent via the Undir which gets delivered with “top priority” status assigned to it).
Once the job well done, we prance off to Mahalakshmi Temple which is the abode of the Goddess of Molah, who sitting smug on a lotus rules the world. The goddess’s kind bovine eyes smiles at us knowingly as we are immersed in serious prayer to please her.
Our rituals soberly finished, we head to an archaic pundit sitting outside the temple who Urvee informs would paste a kumkum tilak on our foreheads & bless us in exchange for some spare coins.
As we bow in profound veneration & await our brow’s to be adorned with the pious bottu, the pundit applies a liberal helping of kumkumam on our foreheads as well as mang (the hair parting above the forehead) & pats my head in couplet to deliver the blessings straight from the goddess Mahalakshmi.
I stare dumbfounded at Urvee who’s mang has been decorated similarly by the said pundit & ditto gets two pats (her share of blessings) from the goddess.
I snarl at Urvee pointing out the insipid act by this callous messenger of god who with one stroke of his thumb changed our fates & now, both of us are wedded to him. Dear God! How stupid! She scolds. I’m adamant.
We start discussing our new found status after the “mang bharai” ceremony. If one goes by the hindu scriptures, the status & caste of the husband is involuntarily transferred to the wife. So now both our varnas have changed. We are “BRAHMINS” from now on. The topnotch position in the hindu ladder & revered by the lesser lot. Wow! That feels kinda important, I tell myself as I bask in the new found consciousness of high authority.
But one look at the shriveled Brahmin sends shudders of repulsion down our already dismembered spines. We giggle as we discuss the carnal capacities of this over ripe individual who has long forgotten our presence & is busy blessing other unsuspecting sirens.
Another important point of discussion is the change in relationship between Urvee & me. We are soutans now & will have to fight for the attention of our withered husband.
As our exposition probes deeper with intricate details, we realize that our new swamy should support our Grihasta Jivan. I consult my minds eye which helps me fast forward to the scene wherein my emaciated husband is handing over some spare change & a handful of raw rice as the bhiksha collection for the day. I reason. Is this enough for Urvee & me? Nah! So what’s the next option?
Re-wind, fast forward to another scenario wherein I’m supporting my swamy. I touch my master’s feet as I come in after a long days work. He blesses me in a grave undertone & commands me to take a bath & hurry to join him in his sandhya puja & arti. Heck..noooo…my food craving stomach grumbles as I dutifully head for the snanagar.
Stop…rewind…pause…breathless..hopeless...sigh… trepidation… anxious fear…claustrophobic!
Urvee : Buntydi…this is harrowing. Can’t we do something about it?
Me : Err…well…we can actually.
Urvee :Well then what are you waiting for? Can’t you see, I’m truly distressed?
Me : Ok…lets not spill the beans about our supposed vivah to anyone. It can be like
our very own secret that cannot be broken in a thousand years.
Urvee : I cross my heart & vow “thou shall not mention this to anyone. Not even your
Bhaiya”.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
posted by Bunty's Banter at 7:04 AM
1 Comments:
Hahahahaha
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