Wedding Confusion

"Mrs. Robinson, this is Arti. She's my bhabhi. That means sister-in-law."

"Namaste, Arti, I'm glad to meet you."

"Here, meet the rest of the family. That's Brinda. She's my nanand. That means sister-in-law."

"But you just said that the other word - what was it - bhabhi - meant sister-in-law!"

"Oh, yes, yes, in India, we have many words to mean sister-in-law. See, bhabhi means brother's wife. Nanand means husband's younger sister. Derani means husband's younger brother's wife. Jethani means husband's older brother's wife. ALL are my sisters-in-law."

"But why not just say sister-in-law, then?"

"Oh, that would never work in India. Family is so important here, we have words for the exact relationship. We keep in touch with everyone, we get together on festival days and occasions like weddings - as you see here, and everyone cares about what everyone else is doing - just saying sister-in-law wouldn't be enough."

"Sounds complicated."

"Oh, no, it's your way that sounds complicated to us. My sister-in-law told my sister-in-law that my sister-in-law was appearing for her Chartered Accountancy exam ... "

"Yeah, when you put it that way! But hey, I guess I wouldn't be in touch with my sister-in-law or my sister-in-law, they're too far away! I'd just contact my - well, my sister-in-law!"

"Then, take the word AUNT. We have many words to mean aunt - you know, aunt can mean maternal aunt by birth or by marriage, paternal aunt by birth or by marriage - and in some languages, you even have a different word for younger or older paternal or maternal aunt, by birth or marriage!"

"How do you keep track of all those relationships?"

"Comes naturally to us, family is our most important anchor. Children grow up hearing these words, it's as usual for them as saying 'aunt' is for you."

"Okay, look, today I'm going to pretend that all these are my relations. It's a good chance, since everyone is here for this wedding. I'll call them exactly what you call them. Teach me, okay?"

"Sounds like fun. Let's start nice and easy. Go and take my grandparents' blessings. They're there, sitting in the front row. Fold your hands like this, bow your head, and say, namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji."

"Okay, let me get this right. Namaste I know already. And what did you say ...? Da-da-ji?"

"Yes, that means grandfather, respectfully. Dadimaji means grandmother, respectfully."

"Must get this straight. Let me say it a few times, tell me if I got it right. Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji. Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji. Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji."

"Perfect. Now go."

"Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji."

"Namaste, my child. God bless you with happiness. You look so pretty in that saree! Just be careful you don't trip over the pleats!"

"Oh, I'm learning to walk in a saree. And see, I got a bindi - a red dot on my forehead!"

"Yes, child. That signifies your third eye, the eye for learning and seeing beyond what is visible!"

"Wow! That's beautiful! Hey, here are Malvika's other grandparents, now I can greet them too! Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji."

With that, Mrs. Robinson found herself surrounded by a loudly guffawing family.

"What have I said? Was that wrong? I rehearsed it with Malvika! Namaste, Dadaji and Dadimaji."

"No, child, we are Malvika's maternal grandparents. You have to call us Nana and Nanima."

"You have different words for grandparents too? So sisters-in-law, aunts, grandparents ..."

"In short, everyone! Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. Where's that Malvika? Look at her watching you and laughing there, cheeky girl. Here is my other grand-daughter, Antara, she'll look after you, if Malvika teases too much!"

"Thank you, Dadaji!"

"Hey, there's Avani masi! Hi Avani masi!"

"Namaste, Avani masi! I'm Mrs. Robinson, and today I'm calling everyone whatever Malvika calls them."

"Well, in that case, you should call me Avani fui. Antara calls me masi because I'm her maternal aunt. But I'm Malvika's paternal aunt. So you have to call me fui."

"Gosh, this is confusing. I hope I don't wind up calling you granny or something!"

"You know, it won't matter actually! Though we have so many names for so many relationships, finally it's the love and respect that count. You can just call the men bhai, for brother, and the women behen, for sister."

"Hey, look, Mrs. Robinson, here come the canapes! Waiter bhai, waiter bhai, please give us some paneer tikkis!"

"What's that? And you called the waiter bhai? I thought you said that meant brother!"

"Yes, but we call everyone brother. Didn't you hear Mom when she paid the cab driver? She called him bhai, too. And a paneer tikki is a canape made of cottage cheese and flour. It'll be spicy, watch out!"

Mrs. Robinson enjoyed her paneer tikki, and quickly followed it up with orange juice, to counter the spicy flavour. She looked around her, and listened as people called out greetings. She was beginning to see the ease in the complexity. Each relationship had a specific name, but everyone was brother or sister.

Suddenly, she saw a group of children giggling and whispering together. It looked like they were planning something. "What's going on there?" she asked Antara.

"Oh, they must've hidden Rajen bhai's shoes. That's the custom. The bride's younger cousins hide the groom's shoes. They don't give him back the shoes till he pays them money."

"How come he doesn't have his shoes on? And how come he has to give money to get his own shoes back?"

"Indians don't wear shoes in a sacred place. The holy fire, around which the wedding ceremony is conducted, is pure. You can't wear shoes around it. And stealing the groom's shoes is an age old custom. It's just fun. Helps him get to know the family. The kids might be too shy to talk to him otherwise! Come, let's join them."

So, they joined the giggling youngsters. And suddenly, Mrs. Robinson realised that they were whispering something she couldn't understand, and pointing at her. They nudged each other. Finally, Antara said, "Mrs. Robinson, will you keep the shoes?"

"What?"

"See, the children need a really safe place to hide the shoes. They have them wrapped in this newspaper. They were wondering - nobody would suspect you, being a visitor and all. If you could just carry them around, till the groom gives them the money ..."

"Me? Carry around the groom's shoes? Well, okay, I guess it's part of the fun!"

So, Mrs. Robinson walked around, in her multi-coloured saree, joining her hands and saying namaste to whoever she met, with a newspaper packet tucked under her arm. When lunch time came, she found it uncomfortable to hold her plate and eat that way, but she managed somehow. She even managed to enjoy the vast variety of food, which Antara, and Malvika, who had joined them again, explained in detail to her.

And then, the wedding ceremony was over. And the groom climbed down from the sacred platform. And looked for his shoes.

Of course, as he had expected, he could not find them.

And, as he had expected, there was a group of giggling youngsters, asking him to pay up or else. (Or else, go barefoot.)

Then, one by one, more youngsters showed up. They were the groom's younger cousins, his scouts. They had been sent to hunt around, in every nook and cranny around the wedding hall, for the shoes. But, keen eyed though they were, they had to report failure. No sign of the groom's shoes ANYWHERE, they said.

So, the groom paid up. He put a five rupee note into each outstretched palm. "Now ask your sister for the shoes," the youngsters said, cheekily.

"My sister?" the groom was puzzled.

"Yes, just yell out, behen please give me my shoes, and the one who has them will do so!"

So, the groom yelled out, "Behen please give me my shoes!"

Mrs. Robinson blushed. Then, suddenly, she giggled. And the giggles turned to roars. Soon, Antara, Malvika, Mrs. Robinson and the bride's young cousins were reduced to tears of mirth.

And Mrs. Robinson walked over and handed the newspaper packet to the groom. "Here you are, bhai," she said, with a twinkle.

"Thanks, behen," he replied, "but don't expect me to pay you - you can get your share from those youngsters!"