Wg Cdr JS Bhalla (retd )

MUCH before the Partition, we had settled down at Abdullapur, a small town, now known as Yamunanagar-Jagadhri. My father, a believer of Gandhian philosophy and simplicity, was a social worker who rendered enormous help to refugees (following the 1947 riots) who descended on the town by providing them temporary shelter.
My younger brother joined the family business after his postgraduation. Not satisfied with his career profile, he shifted to the banking industry. In 1976, a marriage proposal from an agriculturist and a landlord from Sunam was under discussion for him. This being the last wedding of the generation, there was much excitement and happiness, as it would be an occasion to attend numerous functions associated with such occasions.
One foggy winter morning, my parents and my brother drove to Sunam to meet the family. The girl’s house was the venue where both families met. My brother, who interacted with the girl, had the veto power to decide on the issue. He took no time to give a thumbs up to the proposal, as the girl was nice, fair and good looking. Sweets were exchanged as a sort of celebration for the formal announcement of the alliance. After a little while, my father announced that a simple wedding would take place the next day in the nearby gurdwara. Silence followed the abrupt announcement. The excitement subsided slightly. The girl’s parents took some time before reacting to this verdict. “Bawaji, how can we organise the wedding at such a short notice? We need time to intimate our relatives and the wedding attire for the girl is not ready,” her father replied. “Well, we humbly accept the girl in the clothes she is wearing,” responded Bawaji.
Realising that he would not relent, they reluctantly agreed to the simple wedding ceremony the next day in the gurdwara which was already preoccupied. The management was requested to adjust the programme for anand karaj. A vehicle was dispatched to Yamunanagar to fetch some clothes for the bridegroom. Overnight, a new attire was prepared for the girl by her family. The following day, with few members in attendance from both sides, anand karaj was solemnised. No roka, no dholki, no ring ceremony, no band-baja. The wedding was solemnised in the most simple and dignified manner.
My father’s trip to Sunam and returning home with the bride and groom the next day surprised everyone in the town. He dispensed with the tradition of a wedding spread over three days with numerous functions, pomp and show. Lavishness, which has become a way of life now, needs to be toned down by resorting to quiet and elegant weddings.