Bride swapping
by Rajbir Deswal
Whenever I visit my village, I come back with a plot or two of another Mother India, Waris, Rudali or Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke!
This time it is a case of bride swapping (or a mix-up!) ‘exposed’ right in time!
About 50 years ago, the marriage of two cousins, Kanshi and Risala, was fixed with two cousin sisters, both named Angoori. Both lived in the same village. Both were similar bodywise. Both were illiterate and of the same age.
Those were the days when baraatis would travel on foot, with a cart or two, to carry the bride and the dowry articles. Also, poor people who could not afford to spend enough on weddings were ‘adopted’ by zamindars who would spend once and exploit the people life-long!
Our Kanshi and Risala were thus adopted by two wealthy farmers who were rivals and kept matching muscle power to take on one another frequently enough. Both zamindars got jewellery made for the brides-to-be and the D-day arrived. All and sundry in the village decked themselves up.
But who was to follow which bridegroom? If you were seen with a party patronised by one zamindar, the other getting wind of it, would automatically persecute you later. Under such stress the joint-baraat set foot to the village of Angoori — raised to the power of two. The wedding, however, remained a smooth affair till both Angooris were body-lifted to the bullock-cart by their respective maternal uncles.
Reaching the bridegrooms’ village, both Angooris, bundled and wrapped in clothes all over, were huddled and taken to their ‘not-respective’ bridegrooms’ kutcha houses. The mix-up had taken place.
Folk songs ranted the skies when they were accosted with a copper-ware, filled with water and a Pipal tree branch dipped in it, on their head. Curious ladies of the house opened their dowry boxes. A shock was in store for all, when Angoori-I demurely mentioned that the jewellery did not belong to her. A wise man suggested they consult Angoori-II. After a little while and before the nightfall — this is critical to note for obvious reasons — the truth became known and brides replaced and restored, appropriately.
However, another version of the episode doing the rounds till date, is that the mix-up became known four-five days later only, when one of the brothers of one of the Angooris, who had come to take his sister back home, exclaimed, “Oh no! She is not my sister!” By then the ‘damage’ had been done and a point of no return had been reached.
The families in awe of the zamindars never let the secret go out of their community, till recent times when winds of ‘glasnost and perestroika’ had started blowing generally, only to be ‘check-mated’ by khaps.
by Rajbir Deswal
Whenever I visit my village, I come back with a plot or two of another Mother India, Waris, Rudali or Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke!
This time it is a case of bride swapping (or a mix-up!) ‘exposed’ right in time!
About 50 years ago, the marriage of two cousins, Kanshi and Risala, was fixed with two cousin sisters, both named Angoori. Both lived in the same village. Both were similar bodywise. Both were illiterate and of the same age.
Those were the days when baraatis would travel on foot, with a cart or two, to carry the bride and the dowry articles. Also, poor people who could not afford to spend enough on weddings were ‘adopted’ by zamindars who would spend once and exploit the people life-long!
Our Kanshi and Risala were thus adopted by two wealthy farmers who were rivals and kept matching muscle power to take on one another frequently enough. Both zamindars got jewellery made for the brides-to-be and the D-day arrived. All and sundry in the village decked themselves up.
But who was to follow which bridegroom? If you were seen with a party patronised by one zamindar, the other getting wind of it, would automatically persecute you later. Under such stress the joint-baraat set foot to the village of Angoori — raised to the power of two. The wedding, however, remained a smooth affair till both Angooris were body-lifted to the bullock-cart by their respective maternal uncles.
Reaching the bridegrooms’ village, both Angooris, bundled and wrapped in clothes all over, were huddled and taken to their ‘not-respective’ bridegrooms’ kutcha houses. The mix-up had taken place.
Folk songs ranted the skies when they were accosted with a copper-ware, filled with water and a Pipal tree branch dipped in it, on their head. Curious ladies of the house opened their dowry boxes. A shock was in store for all, when Angoori-I demurely mentioned that the jewellery did not belong to her. A wise man suggested they consult Angoori-II. After a little while and before the nightfall — this is critical to note for obvious reasons — the truth became known and brides replaced and restored, appropriately.
However, another version of the episode doing the rounds till date, is that the mix-up became known four-five days later only, when one of the brothers of one of the Angooris, who had come to take his sister back home, exclaimed, “Oh no! She is not my sister!” By then the ‘damage’ had been done and a point of no return had been reached.
The families in awe of the zamindars never let the secret go out of their community, till recent times when winds of ‘glasnost and perestroika’ had started blowing generally, only to be ‘check-mated’ by khaps.
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