Heady In Love

Love was in the air back in the '70s in the exhilaratingly beautiful Shimla. Gautam Anand goes back to that time when a special bond was celebrated in the most regal and memorable manner. A time when social distancing wasn't even thought of; the good old days!

Ah! Amritsar in the 1970s! Always an agreeable time when October heralded in the cool air from the nearby Himalayas.

Rusi and Freni Boga were enjoying a leisurely breakfast of free-range scrambled eggs, buttered toast and Nagpur orange juice when their butler brought their corded ivory-coloured phone on a silver tray and announced that Miss Mini, their daughter, was on the line; trunk calls always raised the excitement in the household.

Mini (Meher) was a senior flight attendant with the national carrier and had some important news to share with her parents. Would they be able to join her and Kris in Delhi over the weekend? Bookings had already been secured at the India International Center for them.

Who was Kris? Kris Diwan – the head of flight services of the same airline, a Punjabi, wasn't getting any younger and for the past couple of years was ardently pursuing Mini Boga.

He had formally proposed, and she had accepted without a second thought! Kris' lineage belonged to that of the late Diwan-e-Aatam, a well-known poet and writer and family raconteur (you may recall him being a family friend of the since departed Lal and Shamsi families, from my previous columns). Rusi and Freni arrived in Delhi to meet their future son-in-law. Differences of faith were set aside; happiness of the couple was paramount.

The families agreed to a court marriage, supervised by Biren Lal, the scion of the Lal family at his ancestral home in Shimla, with 20 of both the families' closest friends and relatives present. All other guests would be accommodated at the majestic Oberoi Hotel.

The magistrate and mayor, Aatar Singh, was tasked to conduct the wedding. Services of the army commander, a family friend (General KP Candeth), was requested with the booking of a train from Delhi to Kalka and then another one from Kalka to Shimla.

It was very much like celebrating the ceremonial welcome that the viceroys received in the British heyday at the historic Summer Hill Station, next to the erstwhile viceroy's mansion – but only now, this was in the 1970s! At this time, Shimla was an army command town.

The multi-services band was also involved in welcoming the different marriage parties. It was a rapturous and glorious affair. Guest lists, menus, seating, who'd be staying where – there was no time or space to stop and think. The famous commander had also made it possible for those interested to play golf at the beautiful Annandale Golf Course.

In deference to the belief that wedding rituals must be the discretion of the bride's family, high emphasis was placed on Parsi rituals.

A unique spin to the classic engagement ceremony, rupia peravanu, is when the ladies (not more than nine) from the groom's side visit the bride, bearing shagun, gifts and a silver coin to bless her. The bride's family then adds more silver coins to the bag given by the groom's family and proceed to the groom's house to reciprocate the gesture. This is believed to bring in prosperity and luck for the two members in their new phase of life.

The madhavsaro ceremony follows the rupia peravanu. The bride and the groom's family plant a sapling in a flowerpot as a symbol of fertility. The soil in which the tree is planted is then mixed with bits of three types of metal, paan (betel leaf), supari (betel nut), haldi and dry dates amid prayers. This plant is placed near the entrance of the house where it is nurtured and watered every day. Approximately a week after the wedding, the plant is removed from the pot and given a permanent home. The participants wear red for this ceremony.

Followed by this, and two days before the wedding, was the ritual of adarni, where the groom's family visits the bride's house, bearing gifts of clothes, cash, and jewellery for her. After the ritual is completed the bride's family would offer simple treats like sev and dahi, bananas and boiled eggs to the guests.

Then the supra nu murat takes place – similar to the colourful haldi ceremony in Hindu weddings. Five married women sit in a circle and take turns pounding a special bundle of betel nut, betel leaf, dates, turmeric and a piece of coconut, which together form supra. According to tradition, four married women are given a piece of coconut, betel nut, dates and paan, which are put in a supra (winnowing fan). They then sing songs and exchange the supras seven times among themselves. The fifth woman sits in the centre with khalbatto (mortar and pestle) with dry haldi in it. After the women are done exchanging the supras, all five of them get together and grind the haldi with some milk to form a paste. Held separately for the bride and groom at their respective houses, this turmeric paste is applied to the groom and the bride by their respective family members.

Finally, the nahan occurs. This sacred ritual is performed before the wedding, where the bride and the groom take a holy bath to cleanse and purify their body and soul. The completion of this ritual marks the commencement of the wedding day ceremonies.

The Punjabis had their way for the sangeet, where Usha Iyer was especially driven in to lead the festivities. The wedding reception was unlike any other with a menu was heady and succulent and included both Punjabi favourites and Parsi delicacies.

The fortnight-long extravaganza ended in a spectacular headrush. This all took place at the Gaiety Theatre at The Green Room Club. Dancing, eating, singing, speeches and toasts – stories from friends and relatives about the couple's escapades in the air and on the ground. It was an event unlike any other. The army general even offered the newlyweds his olive-green Riley to take them from the wedding venue to their new accommodations as a married couple.

After all these years as a bachelor, Kris Dewan was married and he was with the love of his life! The feeling in the air was captured by this couplet by Diwan-e-Aatam:

Tishnaa nazrein mili shauq nazaron se,
Jab, mai barasne lagi, tab jaam bharne lagaa
Saaqiyaa aaj teri zaroorat nahin, bin piye bin pilaaye khumaar aa gayaa!

(When my eyes filled with longing and desire met your attractive daring look,
Wine started flowing; goblets began to get filled, O bartender, I don't need you
to pour me a drink, The atmosphere is intoxicatingly engaging!)