There is an air of festivity around the quarters. People are seen, bustling up and down, with busy-bee activities of some sort. There is commotion all over, in a joyful manner. The womenfolk appear to be the more industrious of the genders.
The locale of attention is the temple, situated in the deep west-end corner of the settlement, its existence of which is largely unknown by the non-locals. It is a small temple; with humble design, marred by lack of funds. The overall structure is coated by inferior white paint; a substantial part of the colouring has already been peeled off by the weathering effect of the sun and rain. The shrine is appropriately situated at the central point of the temple; with the divine Indian deity sacredly placed in the middle of the shrine.
It is to this celestial being that the locals would seek answers to their prayers; blessings to their undertakings; guidance to their endeavours; and assurance of protection and safety to themselves and their loved ones. It is this unassuming and modest place of worship that acts as the focal peak of the spiritual and devotional needs of the residents of the quarters. So much so, unlike the diversity of religious beliefs of the populace, the communal devotional observance to the temple deity acts as a common thread that binds the quarters’ inhabitants.
The activity reaches feverish peak during the evening, upon the commencement of the wedding. During that time, the whole of the temple has already been decorated delightfully, to mark the auspicious event. Scores of colours has been ornamented all over, and the familiar decorative displays, usually kept in the temple’s store at the back, are put on view; re-used again from the previous wedding held some months back.
The excited people take their place, some quickly placing their bags or other form of belongings on the vacant seats, marking their intention of reserving the empty spot for their preferred individual. The animated crowd clearly contributes to the boisterous noise, enveloping the chants of the resident priest, though the priest’s voice is enhanced by the faulty microphone, which only works now and then.
Jegatheeswary takes her place among the small, but principal group, alongside with the priest; for it is her daughter who is getting married. She looks on as the priest goes through the ceremonial solemnity rituals of the marriage. She then looks at her daughter, Kumari, before turning her gaze towards the crowd. Jegatheeswary is aware how sad and forlorn her daughter looks. The assembly of invitees are clearly too preoccupied with small talk among themselves to realize the condition of the bride, although it is expected, within their community custom, of any bride to display a cheerless disposition, as if to indicate her heartrending emotion of leaving her own family.
But Jegatheeswary knows better, Kumari’s face bears not the conventional mournful put-on-show; she truly feels her daughter’s honest sorrow. Her daughter, the bride, and yet so out of place in her own wedding, as she sits there submissively beside Shan, her husband to be. It is a mismatch, her daughter, 18 years of age, so young and small in stature, compared to the burly Shan, who at 34; appears already hardened by the harsh reality of life’s offering.
_____________________________________________
As Kumari sits there on the bridal pedestal, taking her place beside Shan, her designated spouse by the end of the ceremony, her mind races back to the day when her marriage was announced to her unexpectedly.
It was supposed to be an ordinary, but otherwise happy day. It was 3 months into her holidays after her STPM examinations. She has already got a part-time job as a kindergarten teacher. Her future was in place for her – she awaits her examination results, confident of securing a place in the local varsity, although she secretly knows the course to be offered will not be a popular, nor would it be one to her liking. But it did not matter, as long as she gets to higher learning, she will be the first in the family and extended relatives to so succeed.
And she is now working, earning money for the first time. Although the salary was low by comparison, the elation of earning one’s pay check is incomparable in feeling. It is not the cash amount that matters, but the emancipation of sorts to be able to fend for one; feeling the sensations of independence and adulthood.
In the midst of her new progression, Kumari also has Vicnesh constantly in mind. They had been an item since Khairul’s birthday bash. They had met up more often after school, Vicnesh walking Kumari back home during the afternoons. And when Vicnesh has his runs in the late afternoon, Kumari will conjure up flimsy excuses to go back to school, to cheer him on. But they both never went aboard with their meet ups, not with the exams so near the corner then. A week after the examinations, Vicnesh told her that he will be going to stay with an uncle, who has a stationery business in another state; he will be helping his uncle in the shop, to pass time while waiting for the exam results. Vicnesh promised to write, once he settled down.
That fateful afternoon, as Kumari was walking home from work, she noticed her father standing at the door. Something was amiss, she thought, as her father was never home at that early afternoon. She walked straight in, without acknowledging her father. He did likewise. He just picked up his sling-bag and went off, presumably to work.
Her mother became the bearer of grim news, instead. Jegatheeswary told Kumari, in a motherly hush tone, yet uncannily firm – that her father has decided, the day before, to marry Kumari off to Shan. Shan has been a family friend, of sorts. Kumari’s parents have known Shan’s parents all their lives. They had lived in the quarters prior to this, before moving away to the public flats in another area, though within the same locality; and still within driving distance from the quarters. The idea to pair them off has always been on the cards, suggestions in jest have been made several times prior; before a formal proposal came through the week before. Kumari knows that it is within their custom, that her father has the sole discretionary authority to so decide on her life.
_____________________________________________
Kumari sits alone in her new room – the bridal room. The wedding has ended more than an hour ago. She is now at Shan’s home, now also her home. Shan had rented a flat; which is just across that of his parents. This will be their matrimonial home.
Kumari looks around. The room is simply arranged, with a queen-size bed, a small cupboard and a small dressing table. Kumari remembers the furniture in the hall is equally bare - a sofa set with an out-of-place rattan chair. It is uninviting, devoid of homely charm. She is still in her bridal gown, sitting there, alone. She is unsure as to what she should do, as a wife. Is she to take her bath, she ponders. Shan, her husband, has not come home with his new bride. He has been drinking throughout the wedding. He was already drunk to the brim when the guests left, except for a few close friends of his that Kumari knows not off; those friends were the one who insisted that Shan carries on drinking, insisting that it is obligatory as a celebration of happiness. Where Shan is now, Kumari does not know. All she knows is to just sit there, waiting.
Kumari froze when she hears the front door to the flat opening. She didn’t look back as Shan comes into the room, stumbling. She hears him mumbling, inaudible, as he slumps on the bed with a gregarious laugh. She feels herself trembling. This is not the wedding night she has fantasized of, not during when she daydreams of with Vicnesh in it; definitely not as it is playing out now, like a freakish nightmare from a horror matinee. Her mind is all blurry, almost as if she herself has consumed pints of hard liquor as well, shutting of the reality. She recalls her name being called; she recalls being violently pulled to the bed; she recalls her husband coming on top of her, his weight slumped heavily against her as she turns her face away to escape the strong smell of liquor from his mouth. She closes her eyes and turns her mind away; allowing her to be oblivious to the ensuing rough physical violation of her body.
The locale of attention is the temple, situated in the deep west-end corner of the settlement, its existence of which is largely unknown by the non-locals. It is a small temple; with humble design, marred by lack of funds. The overall structure is coated by inferior white paint; a substantial part of the colouring has already been peeled off by the weathering effect of the sun and rain. The shrine is appropriately situated at the central point of the temple; with the divine Indian deity sacredly placed in the middle of the shrine.
It is to this celestial being that the locals would seek answers to their prayers; blessings to their undertakings; guidance to their endeavours; and assurance of protection and safety to themselves and their loved ones. It is this unassuming and modest place of worship that acts as the focal peak of the spiritual and devotional needs of the residents of the quarters. So much so, unlike the diversity of religious beliefs of the populace, the communal devotional observance to the temple deity acts as a common thread that binds the quarters’ inhabitants.
The activity reaches feverish peak during the evening, upon the commencement of the wedding. During that time, the whole of the temple has already been decorated delightfully, to mark the auspicious event. Scores of colours has been ornamented all over, and the familiar decorative displays, usually kept in the temple’s store at the back, are put on view; re-used again from the previous wedding held some months back.
The excited people take their place, some quickly placing their bags or other form of belongings on the vacant seats, marking their intention of reserving the empty spot for their preferred individual. The animated crowd clearly contributes to the boisterous noise, enveloping the chants of the resident priest, though the priest’s voice is enhanced by the faulty microphone, which only works now and then.
Jegatheeswary takes her place among the small, but principal group, alongside with the priest; for it is her daughter who is getting married. She looks on as the priest goes through the ceremonial solemnity rituals of the marriage. She then looks at her daughter, Kumari, before turning her gaze towards the crowd. Jegatheeswary is aware how sad and forlorn her daughter looks. The assembly of invitees are clearly too preoccupied with small talk among themselves to realize the condition of the bride, although it is expected, within their community custom, of any bride to display a cheerless disposition, as if to indicate her heartrending emotion of leaving her own family.
But Jegatheeswary knows better, Kumari’s face bears not the conventional mournful put-on-show; she truly feels her daughter’s honest sorrow. Her daughter, the bride, and yet so out of place in her own wedding, as she sits there submissively beside Shan, her husband to be. It is a mismatch, her daughter, 18 years of age, so young and small in stature, compared to the burly Shan, who at 34; appears already hardened by the harsh reality of life’s offering.
_____________________________________________
As Kumari sits there on the bridal pedestal, taking her place beside Shan, her designated spouse by the end of the ceremony, her mind races back to the day when her marriage was announced to her unexpectedly.
It was supposed to be an ordinary, but otherwise happy day. It was 3 months into her holidays after her STPM examinations. She has already got a part-time job as a kindergarten teacher. Her future was in place for her – she awaits her examination results, confident of securing a place in the local varsity, although she secretly knows the course to be offered will not be a popular, nor would it be one to her liking. But it did not matter, as long as she gets to higher learning, she will be the first in the family and extended relatives to so succeed.
And she is now working, earning money for the first time. Although the salary was low by comparison, the elation of earning one’s pay check is incomparable in feeling. It is not the cash amount that matters, but the emancipation of sorts to be able to fend for one; feeling the sensations of independence and adulthood.
In the midst of her new progression, Kumari also has Vicnesh constantly in mind. They had been an item since Khairul’s birthday bash. They had met up more often after school, Vicnesh walking Kumari back home during the afternoons. And when Vicnesh has his runs in the late afternoon, Kumari will conjure up flimsy excuses to go back to school, to cheer him on. But they both never went aboard with their meet ups, not with the exams so near the corner then. A week after the examinations, Vicnesh told her that he will be going to stay with an uncle, who has a stationery business in another state; he will be helping his uncle in the shop, to pass time while waiting for the exam results. Vicnesh promised to write, once he settled down.
That fateful afternoon, as Kumari was walking home from work, she noticed her father standing at the door. Something was amiss, she thought, as her father was never home at that early afternoon. She walked straight in, without acknowledging her father. He did likewise. He just picked up his sling-bag and went off, presumably to work.
Her mother became the bearer of grim news, instead. Jegatheeswary told Kumari, in a motherly hush tone, yet uncannily firm – that her father has decided, the day before, to marry Kumari off to Shan. Shan has been a family friend, of sorts. Kumari’s parents have known Shan’s parents all their lives. They had lived in the quarters prior to this, before moving away to the public flats in another area, though within the same locality; and still within driving distance from the quarters. The idea to pair them off has always been on the cards, suggestions in jest have been made several times prior; before a formal proposal came through the week before. Kumari knows that it is within their custom, that her father has the sole discretionary authority to so decide on her life.
_____________________________________________
Kumari sits alone in her new room – the bridal room. The wedding has ended more than an hour ago. She is now at Shan’s home, now also her home. Shan had rented a flat; which is just across that of his parents. This will be their matrimonial home.
Kumari looks around. The room is simply arranged, with a queen-size bed, a small cupboard and a small dressing table. Kumari remembers the furniture in the hall is equally bare - a sofa set with an out-of-place rattan chair. It is uninviting, devoid of homely charm. She is still in her bridal gown, sitting there, alone. She is unsure as to what she should do, as a wife. Is she to take her bath, she ponders. Shan, her husband, has not come home with his new bride. He has been drinking throughout the wedding. He was already drunk to the brim when the guests left, except for a few close friends of his that Kumari knows not off; those friends were the one who insisted that Shan carries on drinking, insisting that it is obligatory as a celebration of happiness. Where Shan is now, Kumari does not know. All she knows is to just sit there, waiting.
Kumari froze when she hears the front door to the flat opening. She didn’t look back as Shan comes into the room, stumbling. She hears him mumbling, inaudible, as he slumps on the bed with a gregarious laugh. She feels herself trembling. This is not the wedding night she has fantasized of, not during when she daydreams of with Vicnesh in it; definitely not as it is playing out now, like a freakish nightmare from a horror matinee. Her mind is all blurry, almost as if she herself has consumed pints of hard liquor as well, shutting of the reality. She recalls her name being called; she recalls being violently pulled to the bed; she recalls her husband coming on top of her, his weight slumped heavily against her as she turns her face away to escape the strong smell of liquor from his mouth. She closes her eyes and turns her mind away; allowing her to be oblivious to the ensuing rough physical violation of her body.
1 comments:
Oh No!! This is depressing indeed....but arranged marriages from hell are indeed very true for some folks, isn't it?
Hope in your Part 3, u'll give her a break and some happiness finally.
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