The Wedding Drums

by Marilyn Rodwell

  ‘I am eating properly. But I don’t want to make more blood!’

  ‘You’ll make yourself weak and sick if you don’t eat the right things. I will make you some haldi tea.’

  But Amina couldn’t stop thinking: how to support Sumati over the next few days; how unfair life could be. What if they had switched places? If Sumati had been born to the Banderjee family, and she had had Sumati’s parents and home, how different would their lives be? That small difference would have made a big change for both their lives.

  There was a lot of banging and nailing noises coming from down the road. Wedding preparations had started at Sumati’s, erecting the main tent, the mandap where the bride and groom sat, and the kitchen tent.

  ‘I need to be there to help Sumati with the wedding,’ Amina said to her mother. ‘Will you help too?’

  ‘They haven’t asked me.’

  ‘You don’t have to wait to be asked to help somebody, Ma.’

  Devinia looked at her daughter, a little taller, a little paler, a little fuller. She smiled.

  ‘Nobody’s going to stop me,’ Amina warned her.

  ‘Nobody is stopping you,’ Devinia said.

  ‘Sometimes it feels as if everybody is against me doing what I want to do,’ the girl said. Trying to make me do what they want me to do. Getting married isn’t my idea. It’s yours, and Pa’s and everybody else’s. You should never have tricked me like that. You made me feel like I don’t matter. And I know I matter. You’re looking for wedding saris for me even though I have said NO. I don’t want to get married. My mind is made up.’

  ‘I know that this wedding between Sumati and that man is not helping you. It’s what’s turning you anxious. But your marriage will be as good as ours. We made a good choice. The boy is rich, good-looking, and well-educated. Go and read a book. Read poetry about the daffodils flower.’

  ‘I can’t concentrate on any book now.’

  Devinia looked at her daughter, a little dismayed. ‘You are not yourself right now. And you think too much. This idea and that one. It’s not like a girl your age to do so much thinking.’

  ‘What is happening to you, Ma? It’s you who are changing. Have you forgotten that it was you who wanted me to stay on at school and get an education?’

  ‘Pundit Lall says we can’t argue with dharma,’ Devinia said. ‘How can I disagree with that? Everyone playing their part for the good of everyone else. A woman’s part can never change. Doing a man’s job only makes it hard for a woman. And that is only if a man would allow a woman to do a man’s work. Teaching in school?’ She shook her head. ‘How?’

  ‘Why not? I can teach just like any man. See how I am teaching you all to read?’

  ‘But you are doing it at home. That’s different.’

  ‘How is it different? Do you think the school building will object? Really, Ma!’

  They both sat in silence, Devinia wringing her hands, wondering if she was wrong. It was she who had wanted her daughter to get out of the mould. She who had wanted Amina to make changes, but without the waves. Now she became afraid of her own voice, for fear of being overheard by the gods and being cursed for destroying their ancient traditions. She wanted Amina to fight for her survival in this new world, taking the opportunities such as education for girls. It was already bringing some equality between the white man and the black man. So why not between man and woman? Women could be at least equal to men if they had the chance. Devinia frightened herself with her thoughts. But wasn’t there equality between gods and goddesses? Didn’t they all have equal power? She was no fool, so why did she allow herself to be carried along by the opinions of others? Devinia felt hot blood rush to her head. Anger rose within her.

  ‘Ma, I could help you cook?’ Amina asked.

  ‘No! You can’t! Read. Read books. Read poems. Besides, you can’t touch food in the kitchen yet.’

  ‘How do you do it though?’

  ‘Because there is no one to do it for me! I was never lucky like you. I was married at five years old and went to your father when I was eleven. I had no mother-in-law to help me. Sometimes it makes sense to break the rules. How else will we eat?’

  ‘So, I was thinking,’ her daughter said, ‘now that my bleeding has started, I don’t really have to get married. Because it must be bad luck for the family if I get married now.’

  ‘You’re right. Except you have to get married faster now. If you leave it till later, there’ll be more bad luck. And what good is it if no man wants you all your life? That’s worse. It’s why it’s better to get married young, and pretty, and before the bleeding. Then the man knows that you are good and clean. Because later, how will he know where you’ve been?’

  ‘Where I’ve been? Now you are talking madness.’ Amina quickly fell silent, not wanting an argument. She couldn’t bear it when they fell out. So Amina decided to drop the subject, because her mother was not making sense.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The hustle and bustle at Roopchand’s house over the days before the wedding was more than Sumati had expected; she said she wanted a wedding smaller than small.

  ‘I’m not doing all that Mehendi and Pedthi, Pa,’ she argued. ‘And you can’t make me.’

  ‘You always did everything your own way,’ Roopchand said heavily.

  ‘I’m going to marry the old man you got for me – isn’t that enough?’ she snapped. ‘It doesn’t seem right that Ma’s not here.’

  Roopchand’s head sank into his neck. How could he help his girl? He couldn’t bring back her mother. And his daughter had already escaped most of the pre-wedding traditions, which would have taken up days. The last remaining few were just for appearances’ sake. He felt as confused as she did.

  ‘Your mother would have wanted you to do things the right way,’ he tried weakly. ‘What does it matter about his age? He is a good man.’

  ‘What do I care? I am having a child. I am having a child, Pa! You hear me? You never say anything.’

  Roopchand fixed his eye on his daughter. ‘What do you want me to say? I know what’s going on under my own roof. How do you think I feel? I blamed your friend, instead of you.’ He ran his hand over his face and muttered, ‘sometimes I think that your mother did the best thing.’

  ‘I thought you would throw that in my face one day! Well, I wish it was me instead of her,’ Sumati wept. ‘I miss her so much. Tomorrow is my wedding day, and I don’t have a mother. Do you know how that makes me feel?’

  ‘And do you know how it makes me feel to be here with a daughter like you?’

  Sumati dropped her head in shame. ‘I know, Pa. But it’s my wedding tomorrow. Don’t turn on me now. I’ll be gone soon.’

  ‘For how long? What will the man think when you drop that child in the next month?’

  ‘It’ll be a few months – enough for him to get to know me. I’ll be good to him. Care for his children.’

  ‘He will kill you, and you will deserve it. You know, there’s a part of me that wants you to stay at home for good. Never get married.’

  ‘Pa, I am sorry,’ Sumati sobbed. She fell to the floor on her knees crying out for her mother to return. ‘I would do anything for you to be here with me. Ma. I wouldn’t ever do wrong again. Never. And I am willing to take any punishment. I don’t want anything. I will wear rags for the rest of my life, and I will be happy with that.’

  Outside, the wind was blowing up a storm. The weather had suddenly turned wild, yet it was the middle of the dry season. The hot air blew icy cold, and Sumati wrapped her arms round her shoulders. Kesh, her brother, rushed outside and brought in the tools that were scattered round the yard. Roopchand ran out to help him. Sumati sat inside, unable to move. Something fluttered around her ear. She heard whispers, and knew her beloved mother’s voice.

  “My daughter. Don’t let my death be in vain. The rope is not a kind companion. Learn from my mistake. Make the most of your life. Care for those who care for you, and whom the gods thrust into your warm embrace. W
atch your children with loving eyes, and a helpful heart. Love his children, and pray he will love yours. Take my blessing, for I will always be with you, my daughter. When the day is over, leave a plate of food behind the wedding tent. My soul will eat and find rest.”

  Roopchand rushed inside the house, windswept and anxious. ‘The wedding tent’s nearly blown down!’ he shouted. ‘It will be destroyed! Come and help us. We have to secure the tarpaulin. It’ll blow away if that wind comes back again.’

  Sumati turned her head to the window. ‘No, it won’t,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s gone. It was just a breeze off the sea.’

  Roopchand looked at her, frowning. ‘Are you cracked in the head?’ he demanded. ‘All the clothes on the line are scattered far and wide. Go and pick ’em up!’

  ‘I’ll come out and help you in a while,’ she replied coolly. ‘I have to check on my clothes for tomorrow. Where is the silk sari that Baljit sent for me to wear? And where is Ma’s jewellery?’

  ‘Baljit?’ Roopchand asked angrily.

  ‘What am I supposed to call him? He is going to be my husband tomorrow. I may as well call him by his name.’

  ‘That is most disrespectful, and you know it! You will provoke him.’

  ‘Just because you and Ma never called each other by name doesn’t mean that other people don’t do it. Amina’s mother and father call each other by name.’

  ‘Them?’ he snorted. ‘They don’t know who they are. Can’t be pure Indian!’

  Sumati’s Aunt Dulcie, her father’s sister, arrived that same day, followed by all her baggage and entourage.

  ‘I have come to do my duty,’ she said, in a sort of high-class Bhojpuri accent.’

  ‘We are not doing a big thing, sister,’ Roopchand said. ’I didn’t expect you till later, but it is good to see you.’

  ‘Well, we’ll do our best, nah?’ Dulcie replied, bustling her body about.

  ‘We have people who offered already to do all the cooking,’ her brother informed her. ‘They brought food, and they’re in the back tent chopping up vegetables, kneading flour, grinding masala, and whatnot.’

  ‘Very well. Leave it all to me,’ Dulcie told him, authoritatively. ‘Kissmiassi is here too. She knows how to do these things, and I trust her. Chulloh! Come, Kissmiassi.’

  ‘Tantie, I’m pleased you’ve come to help,’ Sumati said graciously, genuinely relieved that at least some of the burden was taken from them. From her in particular, as there were no other close female relatives living nearby. ‘But the neighbours are doing a good job. They’ve been so helpful of late.’

  ‘I thought you were cujart!’ Dulcie exclaimed. ‘Wedding come, food to eat, and they changed their mind?’ She turned and stared at Sumati. ‘And if it wasn’t for you, your poor mother would be here to do her duty herself.’

  Sumati bit her lip hard. Her aunt was right, and she felt she should have considered that, and kept her mouth shut. ‘Yes, Tantie Dulcie,’ she uttered, subdued.

  Dulcie looked at Roopchand. ‘You would have done well to keep your children in better order, rather than encouraging answering back.’ She looked sideways at Sumati.

  ‘We’re pleased you could come,’ Roopchand said, trying to placate her. ‘Really. I can’t manage on my own. I’m going out of my mind. You take over. Do it your way. I’m sure those women in the back will just do as you say. They’re a good bunch, I can tell you that.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’ Dulcie marched to the back of the house in all her travelling finery, saying, ‘Take my trunk up to the bedroom, brother. You had best put us all in with Sumati. It’ll be more convenient.’

  ‘No, no,’ Roopchand insisted. ‘You take my room. I’ll squeeze in with Kesh.’

  ‘All right.’ Dulcie looked at the companions she’d brought with her. ‘Go and sort out the bedroom. Move what you have to and make space for us all. I have my own sheets.’ She beckoned two of them. ‘You, come with me. The rest of you, get out everything to start the mehendi. And you, Sumati, go and bathe and we will do the mehendi. We’ll have to let it dry for about three hours, and then we will do the hardi.’

  ‘Oh, Tantie,’ Sumati said. ‘I didn’t know we were going to do all that.’

  ‘What did you think I came all this way for? Nothing? Go! Clean yourself up. Quick!’

  Sumati left, half-smiling, suddenly happy to go along with the traditions that would make her look like a bride and help her feel like one. Her aunt was brusque in her manner with her, but Sumati took it for care, and felt grateful.

  When they found Sumati half an hour later, her hair was still wet and she was crying.

  ‘Come, let me dry that hair,’ Dulcie said. ‘Bring a dry towel, not these thin pieces of cloth. I don’t know why my brother can’t do something properly for once in his life. Go, Sumati. Find the good linens. Your mother must have had some put away for best.’

  Sumati knew where they were – in her mother’s trousseau amongst fifty camphor balls. ‘I can’t use those,’ she objected. ‘They are my mother’s, and they’re her best ones – for special.’

  ‘Well, isn’t this special?’ Dulcie said. ‘A most special time for a mother. Nearly as special as a son getting married. A son brings a wife to the home though. Someone to help around the house. A daughter goes to join somebody else’s family to bring prosperity to their home. See? But still. We have to send you off well. Who knows what they will think of us otherwise?’

  ‘Well, we had better leave it for when Kesh is getting married in that case,’ Sumati said.

  ‘No! You want a slap? Are you trying to be deliberately awkward?’

  ‘No, Tantie,’ Sumati said, surprised. ‘I just thought to keep . . . ’

  ‘Shut up and go and get the damn towels, girl. You will catch a cold standing here in wet hair.’

  Sumati went off instantly.

  ‘Kissmiassi!’ Dulcie shouted. ‘Follow Sumati and bring her back here. I cannot wait for ever.’

  The next morning, Dulcie woke Sumati up at dawn and sent her out to bathe while she got her something to eat. The cooking tent was already heaving with helpers. The aroma of frying masala in hot coconut oil filled the air as Sumati crossed the yard to the bathroom.

  ‘You know that you have to eat early, and then fast until after Saptapadi – the seven steps of the ceremony,’ Dulcie said.

  ‘It shouldn’t last long,’ Sumati said. ‘Pa said we’re doing a quick thing.’

  ‘What does your Pa know about anything? It will be done the correct way so long as I am here. We will do your mother proud, eh. She would want it for you. Her spirit might well be waiting to see this day.’

  Sumati looked at Dulcie suspiciously. How did she know? Had she also seen, felt and heard what she had?

  ‘Any mother would want it,’ Dulcie said, as if reading her mind.

  Sumati took her plate of food, hurried over to the hammock under the mango tree, and flopped into it. The sky was turning light and the birds were singing. The cockerel in the yard started again, crowing furiously. She began dreaming of what could have been. And then she heard a familiar voice that made her heart soar.

  ‘Amina!’ she shouted, nearly choking on her roti. ‘What are you doing here this early?’

  ‘I couldn’t keep away anymore. Anyway, how could I sleep last night with all the noise coming from here? Besides, I knew you didn’t have anybody to help you, apart from neighbours.’

  ‘Tantie Dulcie came yesterday.’ Sumati sounded relieved. ‘You remember her?’

  ‘Well, no matter. I’ll do what you want. I’ll do your hair and face and things.’

  ‘I don’t know, girl,’ Sumati said. ‘She brought a whole load of women with her – they’re up here. There’s Kissmiassi and . . .’

  ‘Who?’ Amina started to giggle. ‘For real? Kiss-me what?’

  They both burst into uncontrollable laughter, Sumati holding her stomach.

  ‘I haven’t laughed in such a long time,’ she said, then suddenly went pale
.

  ‘Sumati? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh, my stomach. I think I just felt something – I think it was a kick. Oh! And again.’

  ‘Oh, Sumati! What did it feel like?’

  ‘I don’t know. Like a kick from inside. Boom.’

  ‘What is going on out here?’ Dulcie shouted across the yard.

  Neither of the girls realised that Dulcie had been watching them from the bedroom window. Shocked to hear her voice, they jumped to attention.

  ‘You remember my friend Amina, Tantie Dulcie?’ Sumati asked. ‘Well, she’s come to help me.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s nice. She is the one with that boy at your mother’s funeral? The boy who knocked your father’s teeth out? My brother? Eh?’

  Neither of the girls answered. Amina was embarrassed.

  ‘He never recovered from that! And on the day he buried his own wife too. Some people have no shame. And to turn up here on a day like today.’

  ‘Tantie, she is my friend, and that was not her fault. You know well that Pa caused it.’

  ‘That is a matter of opinion. But it was all to do with her, though.’ She glared at Amina. ‘If you have come to help, you had better go and see what they want in the kitchen. Or better yet, go and tie out the goats.’

  ‘Sumati, do you want me to tie out Dulcie instead?’ Amina whispered, giggling. ‘I am going in the tent to help with the cooking.’

  There was a lot of laughing and merriment in the cooking tent, which was better than being around Dulcie. Amina didn’t remain standing around for long although she wasn’t used to cooking. Soon she was fetching clean water, washing vegetables, and helping to roll balls of flour for the roti. She watched and learnt how to make a piece of dough into a smooth floury loyah, the size of a cricket ball, ready to be rolled flat into roti. Two hours later, she left the tent and sneaked into the house.

  ‘Today is my wedding day,’ Sumati said to her. ‘The first day of the rest of my life.’ She placed her hand on her stomach and looked at Amina, beaming. Then she went pale.