Marriage Procession

MARRIAGE PROCESSION
(SHORT STORY)

MUNSHI PREM CHAND
TRANSLATED FROM HINDI BY MADAN GUPTA

Today Babu Devkinath is going to get married again after deserting his wife he had married fifteen years ago. Friends and relations are all gathered. No one has bothered to ask why this injustice is being done to a helpless woman. The reason is that they do not wish to incur the displeasure of Babu Devkinath. Women inside the house are singing songs sung at weddings. Outside preparations are afoot for the marriage procession to start. Members of the marriage party are busy getting ready. Leveried servants are moving here and there. No one is the least concerned that this marriage will ruin an innocent human being’s life.

Fifteen years ago Devkinath had married Phoolwati. She was educated, well-mannered, beautiful and intelligent. Devkinath himself was a stable, well-brought-up man. On the first day of the marriage, however, an unpleasantness took place which created a gulf between the two. As time passed, this gulf widened so much so that today Devkinath was going to have a second marriage.

And what was the cause of the unpleasantness? Basically opposing views on fundamentals. Devkinath was a believer in the cultural values of the older generation which demanded restraint, patience, subservience to elders, observance of purdah. Phoolwati was a supporter of the new generation which asserted right to equality, freedom of expression and a dominant voice in affairs. Devkinath wanted Phoolwati to look after his mother and be subservient to her. He wanted her to observe purdah and not to go out without his mother’s permission. Phoolwati objected to all this. The result was that long arguments took place between the two which, with the passage of time, took the shape of rows. The husband abused his in-laws. The wife gave tit-for-tat. The husband reprimanded. The wife left the house and went to her parents. The place was not far. Within ten minutes she was at her father’s house. After months of separa­tion and tension, a reconciliation was brought about. Phoolwati returned to her husband’s house. But before long the same old scenes started repeating themselves. Neither Devkinath nor Phoolwati were prepared to change their views and their ways. When the second separation took place, there was no communica­tion for years. The intervention of well-intentioned relations persuaded Devkinath to bring Phoolwati again. Then there was a permanent breach. Neither Devkinath sent for Phoolwati nor did she come on her own. Today the husband is going to avenge himself by acquiring another wife. Has Phoolwati the same freedom? And would Devkinath have dared to think of marrying again if Phoolwati had that freedom?

Devkinath’s mother is arranging the ornaments in a box. She is jubilant at the prospect of a new daughter-in-law. She had heard that the girl was intelligent, respectful, docile and shy. She was certain that her coming will light up the house­hold. Her neighbours used to tease her: “The new daughter-­in-law must be highly educated.” The mother used to retort: “I do not want a Mem Sahib. Enough of educated girls. This time I want an illiterate.”

Munshiji came to the door and announced that it was time for the train and that they should hurry. The mother replied, “Mind your work. As far as I am concerned everything is ready. Call the tailor and ask him to dress up the bridegroom.”

The tailor came. The bridegroom was dressed. The “mali” put on the “sehra”. The shoe-maker came with a new pair of shoes. The uncle put the last touches on the turban. The aunt came and put “surma” in the eyes. By the time they all finished their rituals, the bridegroom looked like a monkey. Forty-five years of his age were showing. Greyness had invaded the hair. Some teeth had become loose. The face had wrinkles. But the bridegroom’s attitude was as if he was in the prime of youth.

When Phoolwati’s father got the news, he was plunged in sorrow. If he had known earlier he would have tried for a reconciliation. Now when the marriage party was ready to leave, there was hardly any time to act. He thought “The lower castes are better than us. They at least fear the wrath of the community. We have become shameless. Phoolwati...she has spent the life of a widow these fifteen years ... And now this calamity ... How will she be able to bear it?”

Phoolwati was the type of woman who never wavered once she decided to do something. If she had curbed her independent spirit, she could have led a life of comfort. Even the hardships of the last fifteen years could not conquer her. As soon as she got the news, she decided that as long as she is alive, she will not let the marriage take place – never: “He cannot revel with a new wife while I languish in misery,” she said to herself. He will have to spend his days also as a stranger to peace. I shall never let this marriage take place.”

Without saying anything to anyone, Phoolwati quietly left the house, hired a tonga and went to her husband’s house. On the way she was thinking “I shall show to the world today that India still has women who are prepared to sacrifice their lives for a cause – women for whom principles have precedence over personal pleasure….” It looked as if she was in a delirium. Sometime she started laughing for no reason. Then she started crying. And all this time she was mumbling something. In this delirious state she did not realise that she had left her husband’s house far behind. When she regained her senses a little, she asked the tonga driver where they were. He told her that they were in “katra.”

“Why have you come all the way here?” she asked, “I have to go to Sabzi Mandi.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” said the driver, “We left that behind. Don’t you know where you want to go?”

“I somehow missed it,” she replied.

“Had you gone off to sleep or something,” said the tonga driver.

“You have made me take this long route unnecessarily.”

“No need for all this talk,” Phoolwati said sharply, “Turn .” In half an hour the tonga was in frorit or Devkinath’s house.

The marriage procession was ready. The bridegroom had got seated in a flower decorated car. The band was playing. Phoolwati was indignant and felt like jumping into a well and ending her life. Then she thought, why shouldn’t she also marry again and show her husband what she is capable of. She let this thought pass as it would be a slur on womanhood and on her family. Then she decided that she will not allow the marriage procession to move even if it meant her death.

The car was about to move. Phoolwati got out of the tonga and came and stood in front of the car. Devkinath saw her and was furious.

“Who has asked you to come here?” he shouted, “Why have you come?”

Phoolwati turned around and said, “I did not need an invitation.”

Devkinath:        Get out of my sight. I don’t want to see your face again.

Phoolwati:        You cannot marry again.

Devkinath:        And you will stop me?

Phoolwati:        Either I shall stop you or die trying it.

Devkinath:        Go and take some poison if you want to die, or jump into a well. If you can’t do that, go and marry someone or elope with someone. I will not stand in your way. I swear. But leave me alone. I have wasted half my life for you. I can tolerate this no longer. Get out of my way or I shall run you over.

Phoolwati:        This is also what I want. Go over my dead body and marry.

Devkinath:        What is it that you want? Do you expect me to spend the rest of my life like this? It is a sin even to see your face – a woman who is her husband’s enemy.

Phoolwati:        I haven’t come here to show you my face.

Devkinath:        I know women like you well. Why are you putting on this show? Why don’t you go and get into someone’s bed? That’s what you want.

Phoolwati’s blood oozed out of her eyes. She shouted, “Bridle your tongue. I can tolerate everything but a slur on my character. My curse can be your ruin.

Devkinath said taunting, “Look at this respectable woman!”

Phoolwati:        What right have the unfaithful to expect faithfulness from others?

Devkinath came out of the car and said, “Will you get out of the way or not?”

Phoolwati replied with firmness, “No. I will not.”

Devkinath was besides himself with rage. He shouted, “Get out of the way or I shall crush you under the car’s wheels and end your bravado.”

Phoolwati:        I have already said that I can bear everything but insult. You are free to do what you like.

Devkinath:        Don’t force me to kill you; Get out of the way;
Phoolwati:        Why are you wasting your time? I have come determined that while I am alive I shall not let you marry again.

Devkinath:        Haven’t I told you to get married also? I can give you a separation right now. You don’t have to live alone because of me.

Phoolwati:        Another marriage for me is unthinkable. And I shall under no circumstance let you marry again till I am alive. This cruelty I shall not let you inflict on me.

Devkinath lost control over himself. Shouting, he said to the driver, “Drive on. We shall face the consequences. She can’t subdue me.” The driver did not wish to risk his own life by knowingly running over someone. He refused and getting out of the car walked away. Phoolwati shouted, “You want to intimidate me by talking of death. What does life hold for me that I should be afraid of dying? Only they fear death who live a life of luxury. I have nothing except desolation before me. I have come ready to die.” Devkinath’s anger had by now reached the stage where a man is blinded by wrath and loses control over himself. He did not want a defeat at the hands of a woman in front of all that gathering. Getting into the car he blew the horn persistently. For a moment Phoolwati looked surprised and retraced a step or two as if moved by a sense of self-preservation. But then she regained control over herself and came right in front of the car and lay in front of it. This was the last weapon in her armoury. The horn sounded again. Phoolwati did not move. Her eyes were closed. The horn blew a third time. The car started moving. As it went ahead a shriek arose. Phoolwati’s delicate body lay trembling on the ground like the tampered with strings of a sitar.

The scene was gruesome, barbarous, ghastly, heart-rending. Onlookers standing around got into the grip of a maddening fury. Human nature when provoked goes to extremes. It does what normal human beings seldom do. In the grip of uncontrollable anger, the crowd of hundreds descended on the, car seeking revenge. Devkinath was dragged out. They attacked him like wild beasts. Within minutes the bridegroom lay on the road bleeding profusely and breathing his last breath.

Two bodies lay side by side. Both were lifeless and limp. Who could say who was the murderer and who the murdered!

Late in the night two funerals took place. Instead of music and merriment, there was groaning and grief. This was the new marriage procession.