Here we come to the climax of interest. The bridegroom and the bride, adorned with a wealth of flower wreaths, and dressed in red-bordered Dacca clothes, with sandal paste on their foreheads, and sitting side by side in the presence of females whose husbands are alive, are desired to eat even a small portion of the articles of food that have been presented, and what is the most interesting feature in the scene, is that the former helps the latter and the latter helps the former, both throwing aside for the first time the restraint which modesty naturally imposes on such an occasion. To be more explicit, the boy eats one half of a sweetmeat and gives the other half to the girl, and the girl in her turn is constrained to follow the same example, though with a blushing countenance and a veiled face. Female modesty predominates in this isolated instance. If the boy give blushingly, the girl gives shyly and tremulously; in spite of her best efforts, she cannot consistently make up her mind to lift up her right hand and stretch it towards the mouth of her husband, but is after all helped to do so by a woman, whose husband is alive. This process of eating[44] and mutual help, when three days have scarcely passed over their heads, naturally gives rise to joy, merriment and laughter among the females; and one amongst them exclaims; "look, look, Soudaminey, how our new Rádha and Krishna are sitting side by side and eating together; may they live long and sport thus." The mother of the boy watches the progress of the interesting scene, and in transports of joy wishes for their continued felicity. The young and sprightly, who have once passed through the same process, and whose hearts are enlivened by the reminiscences of past occurrences, too recent to be forgotten, tarry in the room to the last moment, till sleep weighing down the eyelids of the happy pair, the mother of the bridegroom gently calls them aside, and leaves them to rest undisturbed. In accordance with the old established custom, their bed is strewn with flowers and their bodies perfumed with otto of rose. This is not enough for the sprightly ladies, the complement of whose amusement and merriment is not yet full. Even if the night be a chilly one, regardless of the effects of exposure, they must aripato, or jealously watch through the crevices of windows, whether or not the boy talks to the girl, and if he do, what is the nature of the talk. Thus they pass the whole night prying and laughing, chatting with each other on subjects suited to their taste and mode of thought. When morning dawns, the boy opening the door goes outside, and the girl slowly walks to her maid-servants, who accompanied her from her father's house. Her whole desire is to get back to her mother and sisters; nothing can reconcile her to her new home; novelty has no charms for her except in her paternal domicile. She repeatedly asks her maid-servants as to when the Palkee will come, and what is the time fixed for her jattra, (departure); the maid-servants, consoling her, induce her to wash her mouth and break her fast with a few sweetmeats. In obedience to the kind instruction of her mother, she sits closely veiled and talks little, if at all, even to young girls of her tender age. She next takes her vojan, or dinner, and to while away time, little girls try to amuse her with toys or a game at cards; at length the time comes for the toilet work, and the arrival of the covered Mohapaya is announced. She again takes a few sweetmeats, and making a pronam (bow) to all her superiors, is helped into the Palkee by her mother-in-law, a female having previously washed her feet. The usual benediction on such an occasion is, "may you continue to live under the roof of your father-in-law in the enjoyment of conjugal bliss."
On the arrival of the Mahápáyá at her father's house, almost all the females come out for a moment, taking care previously to have the suddur door bolted and the Palkee bearers removed. They cheerfully welcome the return of the girl home. Her mother, unveiling her face and taking her in her arms, thus affectionately addresses her, "my Bacha, (child) my sonarchand (golden moon) where have you been? Did not your heart mourn for us?" Our house looked khakha (desolate) in your absence. "What did they (bridegroom's family) say about our dayway thowya (presents)? Did they express any nindya, (dissatisfaction)? How have the women behaved towards you? How are your sassooree and sasoor (mother-in-law and father-in-law,)?" Thus interrogating, they all walk inside and, making the girl change her silk clothes and sit near them, begin to examine and criticise the ornaments given her by her father-in-law. "Let us see the pearl necklace first," says Bhoopada? "The pearls are not smooth and round, what may be its value?" Geeri Balla, taking her own pearl necklace from off her neck, compares the one with the other. They unanimously pronounce the latter to be more costly than the former; be that as it may, its value cannot be less than Rupees 500. They next take in hand the pitjapa, ornament for the back, looking at it for a few minutes they pass their opinion, saying it is heavier and better made than that of Geeri Balla. The Sita haur, or Jarawya[45] (gold necklace) afterwards attracts their attention, and they roughly estimate its price at Rupees 350. It is not a little surprising that though these women are never permitted to go beyond the precincts of the zenana, yet their valuation of ornaments, unless it be a jarawya bijoutry of enormous cost, such as is worn on grand occasions by the wife of a "big swell," often bears the nearest approximation to the intrinsic worth of an article. Thus almost every ornament, one after another, forms the subject of their criticism. When their discussion is over, the girl is desired to take the greater portion of her ornaments off her body—save a pair of gold balla[46] on her hands and a necklace on her neck—and leave them to the care of her mother. She then mixes in the company of other little girls of her tender age, some married, some unmarried; who curiously ask her all about her new friends, until their talk resumes its usual childish topics. She passes the day among them very pleasantly, so much so that when her mother calls her to take her luncheon, she stays back and says only "jachee, jachee," (coming, coming,) her mind being so much absorbed in her juvenile sports.
The next day is again a day of trial for her, she has to go for gharbasath[47] to her father-in-law's house. On awaking, she remembers where she will have to go in course of the day; a sensation bordering on sulkiness almost unconsciously steals upon her, and as time passes it increases in intensity. About four in the afternoon the arrival of the Mahápáyá is announced, her sister combs her hair and adorns her person with all the ornaments she has lately received. Dressed in her bridal silk saree, her eyes seem charged with tears, and symptoms of reluctance are visible in every step; but go she must; no alternative is left her. So her mother helps her into the Mahápáyá and orders a durwan and two maid-servants to accompany her, not forgetting to assure her that she is to be brought back the next day. Despite this assurance, she whimpers and weeps, and is consoled on the way by her maid-servants. At her father-in-law's, young girls of her age being impatient to receive her, are seen moving backwards and forwards to get a glimpse of the Mahápáyá, the arrival of which is a signal for almost all the ladies to come out and greet the object of their affection. Her mother-in-law steps forward, and taking up the girl in her arms walks inside, followed by a train of other ladies, whose hearts are exhilarated again at the prospect of merriment at the expense of the married pair. When the time comes round for them to retire, the same scene of arepáta is re-enacted by the mirth-loving ladies, with all their "quips and cranks and wanton wiles." At day-break, the girl, as must naturally be expected, quietly walks to her confidential maid-servant, and whispers her to go and tell her mother to send the Mahápáyá Palkee as early as possible. Bearing her message, one of them goes for the purpose but the mother replies, How can she send the Palkee except at the lucky hour after dinner? When this reply is communicated to the girl, she sits sulkily aloof, until her mother-in-law cajoles her and offers for her breakfast a few sweetmeats with milk. After a great deal of hesitation she complies with her request, which, to be effective, is always accompanied by a threat of not allowing her to return to her father's in the event of a refusal. About ten o'clock she takes her regular breakfast as described before, but she does not eat with zest, for whatever delicacy may be offered her, it palls upon her taste; continually brooding on the idea of a return home. This is the day when the bridegroom and the bride untie from each other's hand the yellow home-spun charka thread with which they were entwined on the day of marriage, as a mark of their indissoluble union. At length the lucky hour arrives, and with it the Mahápáyá comes. The very announcement of the fact revives the drooping spirits of the bride. After going through the usual toilet work and a slight repast, she gets into the covered conveyance, assisted by her mother-in-law and other ladies. When she returns home, she changes her bridal silk garment and strips herself of the greater portion of her ornaments. Now uncontrolled and unreserved, she breathes a free, genial, atmosphere; her mother and sisters welcome her with their heartfelt congratulations, and she moves about with her wonted buoyancy of spirit. Throwing aside her sulkiness, she commingles readily in conversation with all around her. She praises the amiable qualities of her father-in-law and mother-in-law, and the very kind treatment she has had while under their roof, but she keeps her reserve when even the slightest allusion is made to her husband, because this is to her young mind forbidden ground on which she cannot venture to tread without violating the sacred rules of conventionalism.
At the marriages of rich families, as will be understood from our description, vast sums of money are expended. The greatest expense is incurred in purchasing jewels and making presents of brass utensils, shawls, clothes, sweetmeats, &c., to Brahmins, Koolins, Ghatacks and numerous friends, relatives and acquaintances, besides illuminations, fireworks and all the pageantry of a pompous procession. In and about Calcutta, the Rajahs of Shobabazar, the Dey family, the Mullick family, the Tagore family, the Dutt family, the Ghosal family, and others, are reported to have spent from fifty thousand rupees to two lakhs (£5,000 to £20,000) and upwards in the marriages of their sons. Whilst writing this I am told Maharajah Jotendro Mohun Tagore is said to have expended about two lakhs of rupees in the marriage of his nephew. The most interesting feature in the extraordinary munificence of the Moharajah is, as I have learnt, his princely contribution to the "District Charitable Society,"—an act of benevolence which has shewn, in a very conspicuous manner, not only his good sense, but his warm sympathy with the cause of suffering humanity. It were to be wished that his noble example would exercise some influence on other Hindoo millionaires. If a tithe of such marriage expenses were devoted to Public Charity, the poor and helpless would ceaselessly chant the names of such donors, and the reward would be something better than the transient admiration of the idle populace.
For one or two years after marriage, the girl generally remains under the paternal roof, occasionally paying a visit to her father-in-law's as need be. As she advances in years, her repugnance—the effect of early marriage—to live with her husband is gradually overcome, till time and circumstances completely reconcile her to her future home. Her affection grows, and she learns to appreciate the grave meaning of a married life. She is still, however, but a girl, in habit and ideas, when the real union of wedded life or the second marriage takes place, which is solemnised when she arrives at the age of puberty, say at her twelfth or thirteenth year. There is a popular belief, whether erroneous or not it is not for me to decide, that in this country heat accelerates growth, and hence the Hindoo Shasturs enjoin the necessity of early marriage, the injurious consequences of which are chiefly seen in the weak constitution of the offspring, and the premature decay of the mother.
So abominable are some of the ceremonies connected with this event in the life of a female that to describe them fully would be an outrage on common decency.[48] I will, therefore, confine myself to a description of the ceremonies, entirely abstaining from an allusion to the abominations connected therewith. A general depravity of manners can only account for the prevalence of this obnoxious institution, in the eradication of which every Hindoo whose moral sense is not entirely blunted ought to co-operate. As the delay of the union is in the belief of a Hindoo an unpardonable sin, the fact referred to is announced by the sound of a conch, and the bodies of all the females are smeared with turmeric water,—an unmistakable evidence of joy. The news is also conveyed to the nearest relatives by the family barber who receives presents of clothes and money. It is quite evident from the silence of the Hindoo Shastur on the subject that the origin of the female rites is comparatively recent. Irrespective of the religious observances, it affords an opportunity to the zenana females to indulge in obscene depravities, the outcome of vitiated feeling.
The poor girl is placed on this occasion in the corner of a dark, dingy room, with a small round pebble before her, shut out from the gaze of men, and surrounded on four sides by four pieces of slender split bamboos about one yard long fastened by a piece of thread. This is called the teerghur mentioned before. Being regarded as unclean, she remains in this room for four days without a bedding or a musquito curtain, and no one touches her, not even her sisters. She is forbidden to see the sun, her diet is confined to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt. On the morning of the fifth day, she is taken to a neighbouring tank, accompanied by five women whose husbands are alive. Smeared with turmeric water, they all bathe and return home, throwing away the mat and other things that were in the room. She then sits in another room, and a very low caste woman, in the presence of five other respectable females (not widows), performs a series of what is vulgarly called Nith Kith,[49] purely female rites, which are exceedingly indecent and immoral, so much so that a woman who has any sense of shame feels quite disgusted. During the day, according to previous invitations, numerous female guests assemble and partake of a good dinner provided for the occasion. They are also entertained with songs, dancing and music, all done by professional females. When the guests retire, they congratulate the girl with the usual benediction to the effect,—"may you be blessed with a male child."
After a day or two the religious part of the ceremony is performed, which is free from obscenity. On this occasion, the officiating priest reading, and the bridegroom repeating the service after him, presents offerings of rice, sweetmeats, plantain, clothes, doov-grass, fruits and flowers to the following gods and goddesses, viz., Shasthi, Márcando, Soorja, Soobhachini, Gannesh, and the nine planets, much in the same way as when the nuptial rites were formally solemnized. After this the hands of the bridegroom and the bride are joined together, and the priest repeating certain formulas, the bridegroom then causes a ring to slide between the bride's silk garment and her waist. Twenty-one small images (twenty male and one female) made of pounded rice are placed before the happy pair, and the priest feeds the bride with sugar, clarified butter, milk, and the urine and dung of a calf to ensure the purity of the offspring. They then partake of a good dinner, the bride taking the residue of the bridegroom's meal. The twenty-one images are put into the room of the pair as a token of happy offspring, and the proportion of the males to the females, shews the premium and discount at which they are respectively held. The bride now takes up her permanent residence in the house of her father-in-law and becomes one of his family.
For one twelve month after the marriage, the parents of the bridegroom and the bride have to make exchanges of suitable presents to one another at all the grand festivals. At the first tatto or present, besides clothes, heaps of fruits, sweetmeats, English toys and sundries, the father of the youth gives one complete set of miniature silver and brass utensils to the girl, while in return the father of the girl sends such presents as a table, chair, writing desk, silver inkstand, gold and silver pencil cases, stationery, perfumery, &c., in addition to an equally large quantity of choice eatables of all kinds too numerous to be detailed. The most expensive presents are two, namely, the sittory or winter present and the Doorga Poojah present, the former requiring a Cashmere shawl, choga and sundry other articles of use, and the latter, fine Dacca and silk clothes to the whole family, including men, women and children.
It is a lamentable fact that though a Hindoo bears a great love and affection to his wife while she lives, yet in the event of her death, the effects of these amiable qualities are too soon effaced by the strong influence of a new passion, and another union is very speedily formed. Even during the period of his mourning, which lasts one month, proposals for a second marriage are entertained, if not by the husband himself, by his father or elder brother. When the remembrance of this heavy domestic bereavement is so very fresh in the memory, it is highly unbecoming and ungenerous to open or enter into a matrimonial negotiation, and have it consummated immediately after the asúchi or mourning is over. A wife is certainly not a beast of burden that is no sooner removed by death than it may be replaced by another. She is a being whose joy and sorrow, happiness and misery, should be identical with her husband's, and he is a savage in the widest sense of the word who does not cherish a sacred regard for her memory after her death. In regard to the whole conduct and relations of the married life, Hindoos cannot have the golden rule too strongly impressed: "Let every one of you in particular so love his wife, even as himself; and let the wife see that she reverence her husband."