Growing up in Chennai!!!!

A lot of my friends who read my blog on growing up in Salem were wondering how I ‘grew up’ in Chennai and if I managed to accomplish the growing up part at all!

 And I find myself ruminating on the predicament of young girls taking that leap of faith, moving into their husband’s home after marriage.   When the marriage is arranged by the parents and not by choice, there are surprises galore! For one, the husband is almost a stranger, which makes it interesting in a way as both parties grope their way around trying to make sense of each other. Uprooted rather abruptly from her parental home, the new bride faces the additional challenge of having to adapt to a new home, new set of people - their idiosyncrasies, eccentricities and all.

I have heard stories from both my grandmothers of their child marriages....they were married even before they attained puberty to young men in their teens.

  Look at the typical ceremonies and rituals in a Brahmin wedding - the ‘Mappillai Azhaippu’ – when the bride-groom  parades in a decorated open top car, thrilled children keeping him company, while men and women walk alongside in a procession with a band playing old film songs; the ‘Oonjal’ – when the bride and groom sit in a decorated swing while women sing thematic songs, give the couple paalum/ pazham ( pieces of banana in sugary milk), decorate their feet and throw coloured rice balls all over the place making a mess of it; to the actual wedding when the bride sits on her father’s lap and is ‘given away’ to the groom; the ‘Nalangu’ – when the bride and groom sit opposite each other, rolling a coconut, anointing sandal and kungumam on one another, sing songs, tease, play games and blush when the elders have a blast pulling their legs amidst laughter and cheer.

None of the ceremonies look like they were designed for mature adults in their right minds! Decades ago, since children entered wed-lock, ceremonies were fun filled and light-hearted although the rituals by themselves were poignant and loaded with profound significance.  It was not uncommon to find the bride and groom playing in the pandal erected for the wedding from where they were unwillingly dragged to become man and wife! That said, even in today’s day and age when the bride and groom have truly come of age, these ceremonies are followed with aplomb in many families.

Brahmin weddings are a riot!! The couple and their parents have to negotiate the unreasonable demands of priests apart from repeating chants after them, holding various stuff in their hands, keeping an eye on the ‘seer varisai’ and silver ware, all the time watching over guests attending the wedding and ensuring everyone eats before leaving, not to mention grabbing the gifts and cash to be safely handed over to a disciplined mama delegated for the task! And all this amidst the deafening noise of the nadaswaram and tavil playing furiously in the background, drowning the cacophony of a few hundred people greeting each other and catching up in the wedding. And by the end of it all, the couple look like they have just survived a tornado!

 Why don’t we have the simple malayalee wink- and - you- miss - it – type of weddings??  Or the Punjabi weddings which seem all fun, frolic, dancing and cocktails? But I confess to feeling lost in a church wedding I attended in Cochin a few years ago – the priest kept talking about sins and pardoning to a solemn crowd that stood in utter silence and reverence with only the choir providing some much needed relief,  breaking out into a song every now and then.

Anyway, going back to days of yore, the bride lived in her parents’ home till she attained puberty. And when the much awaited event happened, the husband’s family was informed and an auspicious day fixed for sending her to the husband’s home. And then, without much ado, consummation of this child marriage took place, I guess. Our ancestors sure knew what the reproductive system is all about! To hell with love, compatibility, chemistry, wave-length, attraction and the like! But those marriages lasted forever....and the couple grew up together and grew old together.

I was myself a wide-eyed 18 year old when I stepped into my husband’s home in Mylapore 28 years ago. My mother-in-law made sure I completed my BA English Literature from Queen Mary’s college which is her alma mater. I took a bus (27D) for the first time on my own, back and forth from college. Initially I felt like a kid lost in a trade fair. 


This home was in stark contrast to my parental home in Salem with just 3 members- my husband and his parents. At times, the silence was deafening!


It was far from conservative and the least orthodox. My husband was disappointed that I was (and continue to be) a strict vegetarian. In Salem, even eggs were looked upon with disgust and my father used a separate stove and vessels to make the occasional omelettes for my brothers.

And my father- in-law despised noise of any kind ( except music of course!) So, he would ring the bell to call people in the house. One ring for Amma, two for my husband, three for the maid and four for me! We all listened keenly for the bell to ring and rushed to his beckoning immediately. When Appa was around, we spoke in hushed tones and went about our jobs in stoic silence. He was a stickler for discipline and time – one could set the clock to his routine.

I longed for the crowd, chaos and noise of my Salem home. I never realised that I would ever miss my grandmother, leave alone my parents, aunt, brothers and extended family! When we visited Salem, my husband was confounded by all the chatter that ensued from various directions...each trying to draw the other’s attention at the same time, suddenly breaking into peals of laughter and jumping topics with gay abandon!

It was as much a challenge for me to contend with my new found status as the daughter-in-law of a renowned celebrity as it was to have three children in 7 years. But I pretty much ‘grew up’ here – studying, learning to cook, drive, cross the road, travel alone and come into my own! 
And embraced this family as mine....