Sweet Rice Cakes

(Rendered from the Telugu story, by P. Venkateswarulu)

I am the eldest daughter of my father. My mother passed away on the seventh day of her confinement and my father remarried on the thirteenth day of her demise. By the time I began to remember things, my step-mother was already the mother of three children.

My father did not set about my marriage till I was ten years old. My granny dinning the subject off and on into his ears, he began to look for a groom. Saying that he couldn’t find a suitable match and asserting that the wedding night be performed in Vaisakh next year, he gave up his trials that year.

That Vaisakh my step-mother fell seriously ill. She lay bedridden for four months. Many a time during that time, she lay between life and death. Several doctors were called in and many medicines were tried. Spirit doctors tried their arts and charms. All to no purpose as a last resort cobra poison (garalam) was tried. After a time there was a turn for the better, and the patient was gradually nursed to health.

Who could think of my marriage while my step-mother was ill? My granny, however, added this to the list of troubles besetting the house consequent on my step-mother’s illness, as she laboriously recounted them to the people who visited us during this period. My father said that as it became impossible to perform the marriage in Vaisakh, he would certainly get it done in Magh (February-March). "The marriage can be performed any month, but should we not secure a match in keeping with our status?" my parent used to say. Every person who came to him on business told him of a young man here or another there and my poor dad sent his men to all these places. Some replied: "We have no idea of performing the marriage this year" others: "They are too far above us"; still others: "We cannot get ready by Magh." All these replies were duly reported to my father. Half of Magh slipped by in such futile negotiations. No groom was to be had anywhere. By then I had completed twelve Years.

Those who saw me exclaimed, "Oh; this girl is not yet married!" I was of a somewhat robust build. Instead of asking if I was married, many, seeing me, enquired if I was living with my husband or about to live with him. My granny’s commotion disturbed the household constantly. My father’s friends and kinsmen questioned how it was possible to keep me unmarried yet. My father was perturbed and perplexed. "If a groom can be found anywhere!" he sobbed. In the end a suitable match was secured in a neighbouring hamlet. When a liberal dowry was offered, a certain householder consented to have me for his son’s bride.

My mind had no rest till the groom was secured. "It is all right if a match is secured by Vaisakh. If not, I will have for a groom any wayfarer and offering him four acres have the marriage." These words of my father pained me considerably. I was troubled with, "what sort of a husband is destined for me?" Learning these people had landed property and also the karnikam, I was consoled.

Then I had qualms about the good looks of the bride-groom. While my people were talking about his parents and their status, I listened, feigning sleep or hiding under the stairway or in the room. Much as I heard about them, I wished to hear still more.

My granny (mother’s mother) lived in our house and looked after me. Speaking to my father, she had said, "Well, is your son-in-law the youth who came riding here last year on the Ratha Jatra day (car festival) That carnival season I had seen him, but how could I know that he would be the bride-groom? If I had known, I mused, I should have observed him with greater attention. All the same, I had a faint remembrance of having seen him then. I tried hard to recall to my mind his nose, mouth, eyes, ears and the locks over his forehead.

The bustle of marriage preparations gathered volume as the wedding day approached. Our cattle sheds were cleaned. A big pendal was put up in the court-yard. Pappadams, vadiams, pickles and other staple foods were got ready; pulses and rice in several forms were prepared and stored in the kitchen. Fearing rain during the marriage days, the big stoves were set up in the spacious parlour. Cooking was begun here when the wedding was still five or six days off. When there were two or three days for the marriage, our kinsmen all came in bullock carts. Whenever bells tinkled, I came out to see.

Our mansion, so spacious, was filled up with the guests. New clothes, areca nut, nutmeg, and other necessary articles were got from Guntur by my grand-father. My father’s room was crowded with these packages. The stores were under the custody of the brother of my step-mother.

The day previous, my people anointed me the bride. Two girls were chosen as the bride’s maids: The wedding mark (Tilak) was put on my forehead, the black dot on my cheek, and the red fringe on my feet. Our local band played. My kith and kin gave me gifts of sarees, rupees, gold rings etc.

That evening my aunt (father’s sister), granny and another crony ware making sweet rice cakes, so necessary for the marriage ritual. Going there and seated on a low stool, I was eating them while partaking of their gossip. My cousin (aunt’s son) came up and stood beside me. "Auntie, give Ramu also a cake; let him also eat one," said I pointing to another low stool for him. My aunt giving him a cake said, "If my Ramu were older by two years, he should have married our Sundari!" My cousin was older by a year and a half, about, my height and I always used to poke fun at him.

As Ramu sat eating by me, I dabbed his cheeks with the ghee that stuck to my fingers as I ate the cakes, and said, "Ramu, you should have, perhaps, been my husband." He cried, "Mother, see, she is rubbing ghee on my cheeks–the naughty girl–mind, I will complain to the bride-groom."

My granny said, "After all, it is the writing of Brahma." No one spoke for a time. I was watching the making of the cakes–when bells were heard in the street. "See, if Venkamma is come," said granny. "Ramu, what we have eaten is enough; let us go out and see; come." So saying I took his hand and dragging him after me, went and stood by the gate. My cousin Venkamma and her children alighted from the cart. In the act of getting down Venkamma said, "Why, Ramu, are you the body-guard of the bride? "Till Sundari is handed over to the groom, I watch that none might steal her away," he retorted.

"A good sentinel, sister," I echoed.

II

It was all bustle when I woke up next morning. Many had hoarse voices–the result of calling out loudly to one another. The cook was bawling out: "The stoves are wasting. Measure the rice for the morning meal of the children, sir." My uncle was saying to my father: "It is getting late; call the band; go and invite our townsfolk. When the marriage party arrives there will be hardly time. Buchamma, start early to invite the housewives" said he to my step-mother. In a short while, my father, mother and some others set out with the band to invite the townsfolk to the wedding dinner.

Our purohit (family priest) had taken the Lagnapatrika to my father-in-law’s house the previous evening. The time was fast approaching when the party should arrive. My uncle calling a servant said, "Fellow, go out and see how far away the bride-groom’s party is."

I was cleaning my teeth seated on the stone-bench in the -yard. My uncle was talking in loud tones to somebody in the front parlour. Those engaged in their several tasks suddenly left off in the middle and ran in. The cook observing me said, " Little mother, see that no dogs or crows enter,"–saying which he-decamped after cleaning his hands.

While I was rubbing down my face, the cook to the stove and turning the ladle, said, "what row what cheek!" Apprehending some daring theft, I enquired, "what is it sir?"

"The purohit has returned. The groom’s party have refused to come"

"Any untoward happening?"

"No, nothing–damn them–your uncle Pullayya’s brother had it seems, dined with London-returned people. So your uncle and through, him you have all, they deem, lost caste. Somebody informed them of this as they were about to start having finished snatakam (ceremony of anointing, the bridegroom). Thereupon they said that they did not want this match. How could these people have given up such a connection, listening to persons who delight in breaking off marriages at the point of pronouncing the vows? Poor man! What preparations he has made! The house, too is full of relations. Townsfolk have been invited to the wedding feast. Dinner is being got ready. It is like a "barge capsizing in midstream!"

I could not think. Whoever thought that the wedding would be prevented thus? To find out the truth for myself, I went into the parlour. My uncle was walking to and fro talking very loudly. His whole body was perspiring. Being somewhat obese, he was breathing rather heavily. The rest were standing about stunned and motionless. Leaning against a pillar sadly, with his hand on his chin, my father stood brooding.

"Surayya, if you brood like this the marriage won’t be performed. Should we stop it because those rogues have refused to come? If I do not get the wedding done at the appointed lagnam, to spite their very faces" as it were, I am not a Niyogi Brahmin" said my uncle.

Hearing these words I feared that my uncle had last his sense. I wondered how he imagined that the wedding could be performed with out the groom.

"Surayya, our preparations would be wasted. We will be put to shame before all. If the girl is not married here and now, people will ascribe some defect to her. No use of regrets later on. Listen to me. There is a difference of one and half year between Ramu and sundari. Give him a bath and let snatakam be proceed with. After thirteen ghatiks and odd there is a Muhurtham. The knot shall be tied then" said my uncle.

I was observing my father’s face. It brightened up. "Yes, we shall do it" said he. As I looked about me, my cousin was near me leaning against the wall. When I saw his worship. I was suddenly abashed. As I started in a hurry to run to the -yard, my cousin caught hold of my skirt: "Wherefrom did you get all this modesty?" said he. My uncle saw him. "Ramu, you can bandy words with your cousin later; come here now," said he. In a trice I reached my room.

III

Lying on my bed I gazed long at the picture of "Savitri and Satyavan" Soon I began to doze.

When I opened my eyes, my step-mother was tapping me on the , saying, "Sundari, are you here? Get up and come. I will give you oil bath and you may worship Gouri."

After some time my uncle carried me, seated in a basket to the place of marriage, which was packed to capacity with people. The women were standing together in a group. Two brahmins were standing holding a cloth across in front of the bridegroom and chanting hymns. I did not remember all that had happened that morning. I wanted to see how the groom was like. I tried to see his features through the sheet that was held between us. After a while I could just make out his face, vaguely though. Suddenly the screen was removed. When looked at him, he was only my aunt’s son! I was quite astonished. I fancied I was still sleeping. So thinking, I began rubbing my eyes, when he rose up and tied the Mangala Sutram. I suddenly recalled all that had happened before I went to sleep.

That night Sthalipakam was performed. While I sat with my head bowed, I was observing him from top to toe. He was not as he used to be. From the time he become the bride-groom, somehow he looked rather different.

Next day was the nautch day. We played with the flower balls, my husband and I. Old housewives sang songs. The nautch band was on. My mind was not in them. It was all occupied with the bride-groom.

That night after performing Havan (worship of Fire by offering oblations of ghee and faggots to the chant of hymns), I went and sat down on the stone-bench in the -yard. There was nobody there. Presently, I felt that some one was approaching. As I turned round, my husband was come and was standing beside me. I tried to rise.

"Eh, have I not become the bride-groom?" laughed his worship. I ran away in sheer bashfulness.

After several years I went to live with my husband. My mother-in-law was preparing sweet rice cakes one day. I sat near her eating them. Presently my lord came there in haste, saw me and said, "Won’t you order some for me too?"

I rose up–a piece of cake fell down from my hand. Without stopping I ran to the parlour. My lord tracked me there and laughed, "Do you smear my cheeks now with ghee, eh?"

Recalling that incident of the marriage day, I was covered with shame all of a sudden and hid my face. Whenever these cakes are to be cooked or eaten I feel, even now, very much abashed.

My lord came near me and whispered something in my ear. I could not make it out. I put out my hand and, all unawares, the ghee on my fingers dabbed the cheeks of my dear, dear lord!