Five Past Midnight in Bhopal - Dominique Lapierre [81]
The real meaning of this statement was lost to no one. Its purpose was less to extol the boy’s virtues than it was to make certain that Sheela’s expectations regarding a dowry were realistic.
“My daughter is just as exceptional as your son,” Sheela countered. “And if your son is such a treasure, you will of course have anticipated giving him a generous dowry.”
“I have anticipated doing my duty,” Dalima responded, anxious to avoid confrontation at this stage in negotiations.
The discussion continued within the framework of a very precise ritual, which neither of the two parties could breach. It would take two more assemblies under the full moon and a lot of debate to reach agreement over the union of Dilip and Padmini. The transaction could then proceed to the manguni, the official request for the girl in marriage. Out of respect for tradition, the boy’s parents invited several of the neighborhood’s elders to represent them in this traditional formality. But, as always in India, no ceremony could take place without first consulting a jyotiji, an astrologer who was to examine the stars to see whether the proposed couple were compatible and determine the most propitious date for the manguni. In the neighboring Chola Bustee lived an old man with a white beard named Joga, who, for forty years, had been a fortune-teller on the streets of the old city of Bhopal. His was not always an easy task, especially when, as was the case with Dalima and the Nadars, the parents of the prospective marriage partners did not know the exact date on which their children had been born. Old Joga confined himself to suggesting that the marriage request should take place during a month under the benign influence of the planet Venus, and on a day of the week that was not Friday, Saturday or Sunday, the three inauspicious days of the Indian lunar-solar calendar.
A procession as elaborate as that of the three magi kings came to a halt outside the Nadars’ hut. In the recollection of Orya Bustee, there had never before been such a manguni. Ganga Ram had arranged for a young goat to be cooked, and the elders accompanying him arrived with their arms full of delicacies, sweets, bottles of beer and country liquor.
It was a real barakanna, a great banquet such as the occupants of the bustees had never previously known. Ganga Ram, who had conquered leprosy, put his crippled wife back on her feet and given the community a television set had also shown himself to be the most generous of stepfathers. On behalf of her daughter, Padmini’s mother accepted the pindhuni, the silk outfit decorated with gold thread that he brought as an official and tangible expression of the promise of matrimony. The engaged couple did not take part in this ceremony. All the preparations for their marriage occurred without them. It was customary that they not meet until the wedding night, when, as a symbol of their marriage, Dilip would lift the veil from his fiancée’s face to place red sindur powder on the parting of her hair. However, Dilip and Padmini had clearly known each other for a long time.
Once the banquet was over, it was time to move on to the most serious issue: the dowry. It was to old Prema Bai that Padmini’s mother had entrusted the role of negotiating this important ritual payment. With the help of some of the other women, she had drawn up a list of the items Dilip’s family would be expected to give his future wife. The list included two cotton saris, two blouses, a shawl and various household utensils. It also included jewels: some imitation, others real, in this instance two rings, a nose stud and a matthika, an ornament worn on the forehead. As for gifts for the bride’s family, they were to include two dhotis for her father, two vests and two punjabis, the long tunic buttoned from the neck to the knees. Her mother was to receive two silk saris and a pair of sandals encrusted with small ornamental stones. They were poor people’s requirements, certainly, but they were worth some three thousand rupees, a fabulous sum even for the proprietor