Some time back, I attended a "Nikha". Nothing unusual in doing so, but this time the circumstances were different.
A few months back, one morning, I had just settled down with my cup of black tea, engrossed in savouring it's rich taste, which in it's finest form we all know, not only excites the taste buds, but its aroma, tingles the nostrils too. Suddenly one of my employees, Aslam, was standing before me. It was obvious from his dishevelled looks that some tragedy had befallen him. It was extremely difficult for 'the man' in him to speak out. Finally with tear filled eyes, he blurted out his story.
His wife Najma had eloped! The previous evening, when he returned from work she was not at home. It took some time for him to realise that she had gone away, as all her personal belongings too were absent. Soon it hit him that she had also taken with her their six year old son. Aslam had searched for her the whole night, but she was no where to be found. Their neighbourhood barber too was missing. It was obvious they had gone away together.
I advised him to exercise restraint and wait for the prodigals to return, he promised to stay calm. When even after four days she did not return nor could her whereabouts be traced, he filed a "missing persons" complaint with the local police. The police hardly did any thing to investigate the case. Even after a fortnight, when no news was forthcoming about their whereabouts, he went to the police station to inquire, whether they had any lead, to add salt to his already festering wound, one of the constables present, derisively remarked, "if you cannot keep your wife on leash, you have no right to have one". As weeks turned to months, Aslam became more and more despondent, he had now firmly decided that he would not take her back even if she returned. Yet he simply could not get over the loss of his son, even while at work (which I had cajoled him to recommence), I found him lost and distracted. He had not only lost his dignity, but was facing tremendous hardships too. A wife to an ordinary man like him, is not just his bed-mate, but one who keeps his hearth burning, looks after the children, and compliments his life. He now had no option but to find a new wife.
Through some relatives he got to know that a recently widowed young woman would consider the proposal. The girl hailed from the village Kanwad, which is just across the river from my place. Before any thing could be settled, the girl's parents expressed their desire to have a word with me. I consented and a meeting was arranged. They obviously wanted assurances from Aslam, and from me they wanted a guarantee that he would stick by his word. Knowing him for many years I accepted this role.
Once the proposal was accepted. I discretely asked the girl's uncle, about the circumstances regarding her husband's death. To my horror, he told me it was due to "the bimari", in other words he had died of HIV AIDS complications. I was stunned, and thought it best to call off the wedding, but after some pondering, I felt we could take a chance of her not being infected. I told them that she will have to undergo tests to rule out any infection. I also suggested that Aslam too should undergo the test with her. To my surprise they readily agreed, and the very next day, both of them took the test together. Luckily both turned out HIV negative.
The wedding was a simple affair, we went to the girls house, where the village elders had gathered, the Quazi too was present with the register. Before the formalisation of the union, Aslam had to give in writing on a "Bond Paper", that he would immediately give "Talaq" to his first wife if she ever returned. The "Wakil" and two "Gawahs" gave us the news that the girl was ready to accept him as her husband, and when he too declared his acceptance by uttering "Kabool", there was a round of applause. Prayers were then offered for the well being of the couple, by the Quazi, interspersed by "Amens" from the "Majlis".Thus the wedding was formalised. A simple feast was arranged for all those present, they had cooked separately for me as I am a veggie.
Tomorrow is "Id" and I have been invited by the couple to share their "Kheer". I, am certainly looking forward to it.
Mhaisal - a village, on the banks of the river Krishna, is in Sangli district of the western state of Maharashtra. Being on the boundary between Karnataka and Maharashtra, it is a confluence of cultures, languages and religions. Though the official language is Marathi, almost seventy percent of the population is bi-lingual. The highway to Bijapur and Belgaum, passes through the village. Agriculture is the main occupation, with sugar-cane, and grapes being the most important crops. Mhaisalkars are lovers of festivals, which are celebrated all year round with fervor and gaiety. (Map)
It is fortuitous that not only do I hail from Mhaisal, but chose, to spend my life here.
It is fortuitous that not only do I hail from Mhaisal, but chose, to spend my life here.