Behind the scenes at a Konkani Wedding

If you’re Konkani, you’ve probably sat through a wedding that takes you the better part of the day. We have clearly not learnt the trick of finishing off the business of tying the knot in 5 minutes and proceeding to have lunch like the Malayalis have done. The only people I have seen enjoying the wedding are kids under the age of 5, who don’t realize what is going on and run around the wedding hall until they drop off sometime just before lunch.

The festivities usually begin the previous evening with everybody invited for some socializing. While the Punjabis socialize with liquor and Tandoori chicken, we sit around and make people uncomfortable by asking them to sing and dance on stage. After much reluctance, the selected performers, then proceed to make the listeners uncomfortable by rendering bhajans which share chords with coconut grating. Konkanis haven’t heard of bachelor parties. The groom generally crashes early mentally preparing himself for what awaits the next day.

On the day of the grand finale, everybody has to wake up early for what is called the ‘Urada Muhurt‘ which I think involves mucking around with Urad dal. This was when games used to start when I was a kid, and of late, I generally miss this ceremony because it is too early and make an appearance only for lunch.

The groom draws the short straw at weddings since he has to sit with the smoke in his eyes the whole day while the bride can make a detour to the beauty parlour in between her thirty-two saree changes. I’m no expert on what really goes on, but I do know that on one of the occasions when the bride briefly visits the mantap, the priest takes off his dhoti and holds it in between the bride and groom so that they can’t see each other. At least, that is what I used to think when I was a kid. Apparently, he uses a spare.

The father of the bride has a rather busy day, and walks around with a bag of cash under his arm. The only time he keeps this down is when he has to lift his daughter from one plantain leaf to another. The mother just tags along with her husband doing whatever the priest tells her to do. The best seat at the wedding is that of the ollo, a chap of about five, who is assigned the duty of sitting with the groom to provide him company. While this takes away the boy’s running-around privileges, he gets to earn a bit of money by way of dakshina and also stuff his face with sweets. Asking the ollo how much he has made is how other members of the audience pass time while waiting for lunch.

Lunch is eagerly awaited. It is usually served on a plantain leaf and has a variety of Konkani delicacies like valval, ghassi and whatnot. The reputation of the wedding depends on lunch, mainly because people have been made to wait so long for it. The only people who don’t get to enjoy lunch all that much are the bride and the groom who are busy prostrating in front of 200 odd relatives who have already had their fill. This is usually the time when the couple curse their grandparents for having too many children. Festivities cease after this and the bride is whisked way by the photographer to pose for the album. After a few family pictures, everybody disperses.

The bride is further subjected to various rituals once she gets to the groom’s house, but that is another story. Or not one at all, since my usual post-wedding-lunch plans mainly revolve around a siesta.

Cheers!

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