A bicycle for the bridegroom
THE other day, I read about a very painful happening. A bridegroom, on his way home with the bride after the conclusion of their marriage ceremony, suddenly asked the car driver to return to his in-laws’ place. He dropped his wife at her parents’ house; the young man was unhappy because he was not presented a golden ring which he had been promised when the marriage was fixed.
This shocking incident was in stark contrast to a very comforting old story related to a village located next to my birthplace. Those were different times people came forward to help each other gladly.
The story involves my grandfather, who was a teacher and the mukhiya (today’s pradhan) of his village. He had just reached home late in the night after attending a marriage function when he noticed somebody outside calling him in a feeble voice. When he opened the door, he found that the visitor was none other than his friend, a Thakur, the father of the girl who had just got married. The baraat was to depart the next morning along with the bride and the bridegroom.
Seeing him in tears, my grandfather said, ‘What happened, bhai? I have never seen you weeping so helplessly. Tell me how I can help you out. Don’t worry. I am there for you with all the resources I have.’
My grandpa’s friend gathered a little courage and told him why he was there at that unearthly hour: ‘Bhai, I have received a message from the bridegroom’s father that the bride would not be taken to her in-laws’ house in the morning unless a bicycle is presented to them as part of the dowry. I am not in a position to arrange the bicycle immediately. But the bridegroom’s family members are adamant.’
My grandfather promptly replied, ‘So, this was why you took the trouble of rushing to my house so late in the night. Go and tell them that a brand-new bicycle would be parked outside their house before they reached back home. Your daughter is not just your daughter. She is our daughter too. Go home and relax. Now, it’s my responsibility.’
The man went back to his village to inform his new relatives that the bicycle they were asking for would be sent to their house before they reached there. The tempers, which had been running high, came down.
The promise was kept, but not easily. My grandfather and his younger brother went to a cycle dealer in a nearby market in the wee hours and told him that they wanted to purchase a bicycle immediately. The price demanded was paid without any bargaining and the vehicle, a status symbol in those days in rural India, was quickly transported to the house of the bride’s in-laws. This was the India of yesteryear, believe it or not.
