Some days before there had been news reports of the disturbances at the famous Sabarimala Temple in the Southern Indian state of Kerala. A recent ruling of the Indian Supreme Court had overturned the prohibition against menstruating women entering. Hard-line traditionalists were resisting the decree, numbers of local women among them. A stand-off had resulted, threats of violence one side, vows to persist the other.
In neighbouring Tamil Nadu the position of conservatives and reformers would be much the same. The Muslims too had a problem with menstruating women attending prayers at the mosque. There would be no easy resolution.
Preparing for the wedding of the Komala cashier’s daughter, the news had struck.
Four or five months before when the mother of the bride had begun with arrangements a consultation with an astrologer was mentioned. In fact, it emerged that before the wedding could be planned the astrologer was crucial. There was one bejewelled and marked old man always resplendent in finest starched dress who regularly lunched at the restaurant. Clearly some kind of holy man, it came as a surprise when it turned out that the chap was in fact a professional astrologer.
In the Indian sectors in Malaysia the pavement fortune-tellers often consulted astrological charts that were spread on the ground in front of the customer. The man at KV had clearly found a much better paying clientele; kept an office perhaps, or else visited and conducted business at the temples.
Whenever this man took his lunch at Komala the waiters, customers and senior staff granted him particular attention. Likely the chap was not charged for meals.
Would a prospective Hindu bride’s menstrual cycle be factored into calculations for the date of a wedding? Even in the case of a professional young woman in Singapore, in this case marrying a Brisbane Queenslander?
Numerous questions in the long lead-up could not be put. At least not to the bride’s mother.
Though the prospect of a Hindu wedding appealed, there was some hesitation accepting the invitation. Had the KV cashier Auntie not given a number of reminders, almost certainly there would have been an avoidance. This lovely woman could not be denied. Having a fellow Australian in attendance from her side might have been thought welcome for the new son-in-law.
For some strange reason the wedding was scheduled for 7:30AM. Possibly the astrologer’s doing again.
The Chinese bus driver didn’t know the temple by name, but there were two there off South Bridge Road. It would be one or the other, the man assured.
Bells from the morning prayer immediately indicated the way. The timing was perfect.
At the entry there were three or four dozen slippers by the gate. Inside the temple it took some while to realise that particular place was not the site for the wedding proper. Guests might have stopped there for their morning prayers; the wedding itself would be held up in the adjacent hall on the left. One of the older worshippers indicated the stairs.
There had been no sign of the cashier Aunt nor any other familiar face down by the altar.
The removing of the hat should have been anticipated; an old man obliged with the reminder. While waiting for familiar faces to appear the morning prayer itself was interesting. Up in the inner sanctum the worshipping of the lingam was familiar from earlier temple visits. The fast-paced circuit in front, however, had not been seen previously. There was almost the look of a race about it, and one or two Chinese participating with what looked a competitive spirit.
Four or five years ago a Tamil friend had said the Chinese often prayed in Hindu temples for luck in the lotteries.
Upstairs the groom’s party were waiting to greet the guests on entry, a freckled and ginger-haired dozen all in dhotis & saris. Inevitably, there was a sense of fancy dress and at the introductions a joke needed to be restrained.
At the front of the room the priest was busy with his preparations, the groom hot-footing around the raised platform. A pair of musicians, drummer and horn player, sat up front on the floor against the wall. At what seemed some irrelevant point, they abruptly started playing and kept up for the duration, pretty much. One of them later added a hand bell.
The Tamil mother-in-law, the KV cashier, had been difficult to identify from ten metres off in her colourful clothes and beneath her make-up and heavy kohl liner. In conversation with the priest the Auntie’s head loll was visible from behind.
The take-away lady from the KV kitchen was similarly spectacular and similarly unrecognisable.
Whenever the KV owner visited the restaurant she was always dressed in that elaborate fashion. This woman arrived an hour late, but still in time to perform her role blessing the bride. It turned out the woman had overslept after news her younger daughter had given birth in the States.
The blessing of the bride was the highlight of the ceremony. Eventually the young woman entered, took her place on the floor up front before the settee and soon one woman after another began attending on her in turn. First came the mother, passing two or three clay vessels around her daughter, standing on the girl’s right and starting at the near shoulder, moving from there behind to the other and then around in front, where both knees were touched by the bowls & trays.
After the mother it must have been the aunts come out from Chennai, two younger women in their own elaborate costumes—not quite as outstanding as those worn by the local contingent. During the acquaintance at the resto the cashier Aunt had returned to her birthplace two or three times for the weddings of nieces & nephews. Here her sisters were returning the favour, circling the young bride with the vessels like her mother.
The young woman bore up smilingly.
A bottle-brush moustachioed man standing to the side off the platform against the wall could only have been the father. None of the audience looked on as keenly as he, though for his part the man seemed to have nothing to do with formal proceedings. Certainly there was none of the Western giving away of the bride.
Bride and groom had been working and living in Myanmar the last couple years. The Australian connection had troubled the KV Aunt from the outset, the distance giving concern.
There were no tears, no obvious emotion. After the two Chennai aunts were done it was the turn of the KV owner, clearly a good friend of the cashier. The pair often sat together, both behind the register and at the tables over lunch. That the owner was a good sort had been proved over the years with her kindness and consideration for her workers, mostly poor fellow Tamils from the homeland, sometimes Muslims among them.
During the preparation of the bride with what looked like the sprinkling of turmeric, among other dressings, it had been the groom’s sister assuming the position beside her on the floor. The two women were formally confirmed, while the groom’s mother, who was also in attendance, was left out of proceedings. No doubt a Hindu mother-in-law came into her own in the time ahead. The father of the groom was not in attendance.
Fertility rites were pretty clear. With the touches on the bride’s knees there also came various fruits on trays, young coconuts and other. Later the pair of brothers-in-laws took a turn on the platform together, the bride’s brother grasping the other firmly by the wrist as they first began their move up the aisle. Perhaps understandably, blessing of this pair seemed less consequential.
Bride and groom would no doubt end on the settee together in the last phase, showered with flowers or the like. Then photos with family and friends. The Malays sat their brides and grooms on thrones before the guests, kings and queens for a day, they said, with the floor sometimes carpeted with money.
Taking the lead from the quiet Tamil waiter from the resto, in the end an envelope was improvised and a couple of tens inserted before departure. The waiter had left his ofering with a couple sitting in the row in front.
In preparation for the event, the Sufi Zainuddin, who had attended a number of Hindu weddings in his time, had suggested a tenner was enough.
The last of the proceedings would be missed. It seemed best to withdraw. The ceremony was due to end at 9: 30 and the feast following.
Weeks later the KV Aunt expressed her disappointment a number of times that no food had been taken at her daughter’s wedding. One lunchtime she had attempted to pay for the meal by way of recompense.
NB. Subsequent information suggested the guess-work was correct: the menstrual cycle would indeed have factored in the astrologer’s calculations, along with date & time of birth. And the mother of the groom being a widow left no role for her in a Hindu ceremony.
Singapore 2011-25
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