Marriage is an occasion embedded on the bed of culture, and it beautifies the simple union of two people. But what happens when culture degrades the sanctity of the union? Well, nothing happens. The dirt is made part of the culture and tradition flows like spring stream, taking in all the dirt and filth in its body. Dowry is one of the well acknowledged dirt carried by the traditions.
But we are not here to dictate and pass judgments on the “ceremony”; we are here to look at it from a new angle. What do the “modern women” think about it? And what do they do about it? Let’s accept that dowry is always hidden under the façade of “gift exchange”. It is actually an accident that most of these gifts are expensive apparels, jewelry, furniture and cars given by the brides’ family to the grooms’! The further disheartening fact is that this ceremony is often glamorized by the educated modern women.
For the best illustration I would like to take help of my friend, Anukriti, who got married few months back. I have always been a critique to the big fat Indian weddings, but for Anukriti, weddings have been the once-in-a-life occasion which is ought to be celebrated with tons of money. She shared all the tales of her wedding with me, it was a love marriage and the grooms’ family was sophisticated and did not think of dowry at all, the grooms’ father indeed proposed of bearing half expenditure of the wedding. However, the generous proposal was turned down by Anukritis’ father.
Few days before the ring-ceremony I got a call from Anukriti requesting me to go out shopping with her; I yielded but wondered about what was to be bought, as everything was organized. Then while walking the streets of katras and Daribas of chandni chowk I realized that we were shopping for the grooms’ family. Jewelry sets, fabrics for clothes, trinkets and rings, mithaais and everything possible was bought. I teasingly warned her about not forgetting to take a T.V and DVD player to her affine home. To my shock she was not humored, but fell deeper into anxiety. Numerous anxious calls were made to her father and carpenter regarding the progress of “Order” she had placed.
“Thanks for reminding me, I had nearly forgot, however my Bed and dressing-table will be ready by Tuesday.” She said.
“So your husband does not have a bed & dressing table? Don’t tell me they are falling short of clothes too, it seems like you are providing them with wedding outfits and accessories!” My patience was over & I retorted in irritation.
“C’mon, stop acting like a revolutionary, it’s my wedding! Get out of the “critical mode” and enjoy, they are just gifts!”
“And where are your gifts? Where is your bed and dressing table? Anukriti, uncle has already organized such a huge wedding; you should not pester him with unnecessary demands…”
“Relax! It is just a tradition, like ring ceremony, chura ceremony, mehandi… or any other, stop fretting over it!”
I actually stopped fretting over it; I had lost the battle amidst the crowd of katra. What could I do after this? I enjoyed the big fat Indian wedding. But my days after her wedding were spent brooding over the culture, which had eaten away the sensibilities of its daughters like a predator.
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