Many moons ago, maybe half a super moon ago, as
soon as we turned 18, all North Indian girls trooped down to Samir Das’s studio
on Theatre Road. We were required to wear a printed chiffon / georgette sari,
almost no make up, just kaajal.A string of pearls. He painstakingly adjusted
the lights and angles. In those days of no photoshop the images were I am sure
touched up manually to provide perfection. He was a legend!
These photos were circulated to find us a
groom. Strange that men did not need one of these! Strange that everyone:
in-laws and all were always aware of imperfections glossed over in these oh so
super pictures. They obviously had daughters who did likewise. Needless to say
they made suitable noises – oohed and aahed. Ultimately the main-stay for
marriage was the family you came from, background, standing - financial mainly.
I was wheat complexioned, 5’2”, not so pretty (Unlike the pic) and educated. Oh
mama dearest these were disqualifications. Fair and lovely, added automatic
points exponentially discrediting other requirements! Educated meant a mind of
one’s own. Work, no way. Naah... Not desirable.J Ultimately all that probably mattered were the
green backs (newly upped to pink) that exchanged hands because one witnessed
girls dark and not at all presentable ensnaring the so-called most eligible
bachelors.
I came with a suitable endowment but education became a disclaimer and believe it or not the fact that we were three sisters and had no brothers was one too. I was puzzled - they (in-laws) would then inherit the wealth. I had no brothers and as per the Mitakshara school the boys inherited excluding the girls which was a presumed norm surpassing the prevailing laws of inheritance. We were somewhat heiresses
:P These
unspoken rules still exist – under the legal radar. The rationale was the
brother represented a “pihar” which would keep traditions alive amounting to
the “lena-dena “ on occasions – birth, marriage, festivals, even death ( the
pagri ritual which is symbolic and a gate pass to heaven ) Boys were a premium
to keep the family name going, to do the final rites as per “gotra” (genetic or
adopted – I thought that was cheating but that is another story) so that the
respective souls and successors could go to heaven and ancestors (pitris) rest
in peace. A family of girls was “tauba” – surely doomed. As was ours!
I came with a suitable endowment but education became a disclaimer and believe it or not the fact that we were three sisters and had no brothers was one too. I was puzzled - they (in-laws) would then inherit the wealth. I had no brothers and as per the Mitakshara school the boys inherited excluding the girls which was a presumed norm surpassing the prevailing laws of inheritance. We were somewhat heiresses
:P These
unspoken rules still exist – under the legal radar. The rationale was the
brother represented a “pihar” which would keep traditions alive amounting to
the “lena-dena “ on occasions – birth, marriage, festivals, even death ( the
pagri ritual which is symbolic and a gate pass to heaven ) Boys were a premium
to keep the family name going, to do the final rites as per “gotra” (genetic or
adopted – I thought that was cheating but that is another story) so that the
respective souls and successors could go to heaven and ancestors (pitris) rest
in peace. A family of girls was “tauba” – surely doomed. As was ours!
Coming back to the pics. I had lovely long
tresses, much coveted which I cut to make a statement - so the photo had to be
upgraded. My parents brought us up contrary to social expectations,
well-educated, career minded, forthright, capable and gave us a voice. I did my
Law and CA with distinction and came into the so-called marriage “market”. I
protested and said no to most “boys” who were making money faster than they
could recite the alphabet, time for not much else. That was not a life I had
dreamed of. Ever!
I spurned norms, upped and married a Bengali all of 30 years ago with much social disapproval. That is again another story...
These photos surfaced. I gloated and preened and here we are!
I spurned norms, upped and married a Bengali all of 30 years ago with much social disapproval. That is again another story...
These photos surfaced. I gloated and preened and here we are!
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