Surangi, The Child Bride

Part 3

The rising dawn ushered in a new day in the little village in Konkan where the Oak family had stopped for the night. Signs of daybreak came early in the countryside; the neighbourhood rooster crowed the alarm even as the village was cloaked in a blanket of darkness, with a faint pink blush streaking across the sky in the east. The air was cool at this hour, but would warm up by afternoon, the heat forcing the people indoors and the birds and animals to seek refuge in the cool shade of the trees that bore mangoes, jackfruit and coconuts at different times of the year.

Surangi was woken up by Sharayu who asked her to wash up, and the sleepy girl dragged herself to the back of the house toward the nhaanighar or bathroom. She splashed cold water over her face and her eyes, taking care not smudge the vermilion dot on her forehead, she had been warned that it was inauspicious for a married woman to keep a forehead bare. A member of the house filled a large water pot placed on the clay stove with water from the well and Surangi was asked to wait until it heated up. She strolled about in the space around the house, surveying the trees laden with fruit and flowers.

"Why are you idling around, did Kaku not tell up to bathe quickly?" She was not surprised to be scolded by her freshly bathed eleven year old husband. "The water is not warm yet, so I was asked to wait. And the nhanighar is occupied; I have to await my turn." She clarified. Madhav scowled and was about to walk away when he heard her call out to him. "Aho!" She addressed him respectfully as a well-brought up bride was supposed to. "How about giving me a modern short name of two syllables, like Uma, Usha, Jaee or Medha? Please don't choose an old-fashioned name from the epics." She pleaded. "I am your husband, you need not tell me what to do. I decide what is right or wrong." He said to her before walking away.

After she returned, fresh from her bath, Sharayu helped to drape the nine yards of cotton silk around her tiny frame. Making a base with a dot of beeswax first, Sharayu put on a fresh vermillion mark on her forehead. "The wax will keep the kunku in place all day." She instructed the little bride. Surangi and Madhav were asked to untie each other's Kankan, dried turmeric rhizome bracelets tied on their wrists during the nuptials. After that the family was served a breakfast of thalipeeth, a flatbread made from bhajani, a roasted and spiced multigrain flour topped with white butter and eaten with some yoghurt and mango relish on the side. After paying for their stay the family paid another visit to the temple before resuming their journey.

The travel was tedious as the heat of the sun scorched the travellers seated in the oxcarts even when they were protected by the awning. The ride was far from comfortable, as they trundled over the bumpy, rough country roads. An apprehensive Surangi hardly felt the discomfort, not knowing what awaited her at her marital home. They family took a break for a midday meal, and also to give the tired oxen a chance to feed and rest. The shidori or packed meal of curried field beans and rice flour flatbread was shared in the shade of a banyan tree.

The oxen travelled faster for the rest of the journey sensing their proximity to home, and they reached well before the evening lamps were lit. Children residing in the lane ran toward the carts, the girls eager for a glance of the new bride while a couple of boys raced forward to give news of their arrival to Yashoda, who was already prepared to welcome the newlywed couple with aarti. Madhav and Surangi had water poured over their feet to wash away the dust and fatigue of the journey. Yashoda welcomed her son and his bride with vermillion and aarti using a lit silver lamp. Surangi toppled a measure filled with rice grains placed on the door jamb with her right foot, symbolising herself as a harbinger of prosperity.

The children were made to sit on Yashoda's lap during the Soonmukh where she glanced at Surangi's reflection using a mirror, and then ran a silver comb through her hair to welcome her as member of the family. She was also presented a new saree and a mohanmaal, a chain of ornate gold beads was placed around her neck. Surangi recited an Ukhana, a short verse into which Madhav's name was interspersed. She waited in eager anticipation as Madhav used a gold ring to trace her new name in a plate filled with rice grains, declaring her as Mitravinda, after one of the consorts of Lord Krishna for whom he had been named. Surangi's face remained expressionless as she heard it.

The neighbourhood children, who had flocked uninvited to ogle the bride, dispersed after being fed sweets. Madhav and Surangi bowed before the elders to seek their blessings. They were then lead indoors to meet Madhav's widowed grandmother, who was rolling lamp wicks in the puja room. The children bowed before her and she invited them to be seated. "So you are the bride, what name has your husband given you?" She asked the girl who was visibly nervous. "Mitravinda" She whispered. "And what were you called earlier?" She looked right into the girl's eyes. "Surangi." Came the reply. "Madhava, could you not come up with an easier name? Let Mitravinda be her name on paper, but she will be known as Surangi." That settled it, no one would dare argue with the formidable Saraswati kaku, the uncrowned mistress of the homestead. And nobody noticed the slight smile on the new bride's face.