A rangOli story - Part VII

A year passed. Chandru got a job near Washington, D. C. and mallI was in the family way. They decided to have their baby delivered in their place, but before that they wanted to visit us. The day of their arrival dawned. As usual, I got up quite early and drew a welcome mat for them. It had the homecoming theme of pArvati going to her parents’ place (here the pArvati is coming from abroad to visit the place of her in-laws). Even though the train in which they were supposed to be travelling in arrives only in the afternoon, we were ready even by eleven in the morning. On Usha’s urging, we all went to the railway station. Each of us was living in our own world. Chandru’s father was perhaps wondering about what surprises the future is holding. I was anxious to converse with Chandru, but was wondering how I would be getting along with mallI who is coming from abroad. Only Usha had unbridled joy and was eagerly looking forward to Chandru’s arrival. As usual, the train was very late as we were very early. Chandru came down and greeted us by touching our feet and hugging Usha. Behind him was the white girl clad in a yellow sari. She had kumkuma like any married Hindu woman on her forehead and at the parting of her hair. She too followed Chandru in her greetings. She and I exchanged glances and I looked at her middle and she at mine. Both began to laugh. I was carrying Ravi then. We returned home. At the doorstep of our house, chikkammA greeted us and asked Chandru to inform malli to place her right foot first and kick a vessel filled with rice. This is how traditionally a new daughter-in-law is welcomed into the household of her husband. We had a long evening exchanging news and talking endlessly. They were too tired after their long journey and jet lag and finally dozed off.

I must tell you at this stage about our village town. It was once a big village, but in recent years it grew in all aspects. The population increased. The earlier high school added a junior college and another high school came up. There are two cinema theatres as well as one or two tents that exhibit movies. There are many coffee hotels. Our house is almost at the edge of the town. My father’s house is at the centre of the village. It is called agrahAram where mostly Brahmin families reside. There is a temple and opposite to this there is a tank and around this tank are four streets and most of the houses on these streets are tiled houses with stone pials which we call jagali in our language on either side of the entrance. In one of these houses I was born about thirty years ago. My father, as I mentioned earlier, is very orthodox. He also carries out priestly duties assisting others in conducting religious rituals like marriages, worships, ceremonies in memory of the dead, and also reciting religious classics in the temple when time permits. He follows several aspects of purity as prescribed by tradition. These include bathing, offering worship to the sun god thrice a day, performing pUjA, not getting polluted by touching people who don’t take bath or women who are in their periods, or coming in contact with people born in the lower strata of the society. Even though this aspect is not openly practised nowadays, regrettably still it exists. Why I am narrating all these details is the problem Chandru and his wife brought. She is a phirangi and therefore an untouchable. On one hand, she, by relationship, is his grandson’s wife. On the other hand, even though after her marriage with Chandru she practices all Hindu customs, does not eat meat and is trying her best to be one of the family, my father could not accept this fully. Besides his personal opinion, he has one more difficulty. He is afraid that his only source of income from his priestly duties may vanish if he came in contact with mallI. He took a vow not to visit our house. Even his daughter and her family members were also not welcome in his house. Mercifully, after great persuasion, he allows occasional visits by my chikkamma, and, of course, by my stepsister Rama (ramAdEvi). Chandru’s father undid any hard feelings this situation created. One day, after her morning bath, he invited mallI into the pujA room and showed her all the images of the gods and goddesses and performed pUjA and explained in detail the various aspects of the worship. He explained that even though God is omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient, to get a devotional feeling and proximity for the God, the Hindus worship God in their male and female images. He also showed her some silver images of his which were passed on to him from his forefathers, in particular, a pair of silver images of Vishnu and Lakshmi as well as a copper Krishna in the form of a crawling baby with a lump of butter in one hand. At the end of the pUjA, mallI was moved by his kindness and began to cry.

It took great tact and persuasion to explain all these matters to mallI by Chandru. Since both malli and I were pregnant for the first time, we could understand each other’s body and mind quite well. We also came to an agreement that she would talk to me in English so that I would be able to converse in her language and I would talk with her in Kannada so that she could converse in our language. I am glad to say that this arrangement worked quite well. At the end of her stay, she could talk reasonably well, though accentuated, in Kannada and I could talk freely in English, of course with my Indian accent. Chandru must have told her of my as well as my stepmother’s interest in rangOli. She brought with her some books on celtic patterns and knots which resemble many of our rangOlis.

... to be continued