It was more than a week since Diwali and the children were back in school. Feeling refreshed after the break Surangi looked forward to her lessons. During the holidays Madhav had begun teaching Surangi and Waman the English alphabet. Surangi accepted his challenge to master basic English before the subject was introduced in school, especially after Madhav tempted her with English story books for children. The pictures on those printed pages gave her a whole new perspective making her aware of the very different world that existed beyond their village. She could not wait to see and learn more about that unfamiliar cultures, a child's natural curiosity triggered by Madhav's translation of the narrative.
The October heat began to dissipate as autumn came upon the little corner of the Konkan coast offering some respite from the high humidity of the seaside location. The air would grow cooler in a few weeks and warm clothing was being aired in anticipation. The vagaries of the weather left Surangi unruffled. Like other children she too was excited about celebrating Tulsi Vivaha, the enactment of the wedding of Krishna with Vrinda, represented by the sacred basil plant. Every Hindu home had a traditional Vrindavan in the courtyard where the revered tulsi plant was watered daily and worshipped by the family. The Oak family Vrindavan had been spruced up and painted for the occasion.
The chosen day for the Tulsi Vivaha arrived. Traditionally the ceremony was performed on the Goraj Muhurta at sunset when cowherds brought home the cows that were grazing in the pasture. The children spent the day in school. Surangi forgot everything about the festivities during her poetry class. Although Madhav did his best to coach her in Math and Science she felt a natural pull toward literature, particularly poetry. She found lyrical verses enchanting and strived to look for deeper meaning within the summary.
That morning during poetry class the teacher introduced a short Abhanga, a devotional verse. This one was composed by the 13th-century Marathi philosopher and poet Saint Dnyaneshwar. The poet was a childhood prodigy who, along with his three siblings had to endure a difficult childhood. He composed many works at a tender age, particularly the "Dnyaneshwari" and "Amrutanubhav" which were commentaries on the sacred Hindu text Bhagwad Gita. These served as milestones in early Marathi literature. Dnyaneshwar's spiritual Guru was his elder brother Nivrutti Nath who encouraged him and the other siblings to adopt asceticism. Surangi listened enraptured as the teacher unraveled the underlying philosophy in the subtle yet sublime lines.
मोगरा फुलला मोगरा फुलला ।
फुलें वेंचितां बहरू कळियांसी आला ॥
As soon as the jasmine blooms were gathered more sprouted in full glory
इवलेंसे रोप लावियलें द्वारी ।
त्याचा वेलु गेला गगनावेरी ॥
A tiny sapling planted in the courtyard rose up to the heavens
मनाचिये गुंती गुंफियेला शेला ।
बाप रखुमादेविवरी विठ्ठलें अर्पिला ॥
I wove a shawl with these blooms- my spiritual thoughts- and offered it to my Lord
As the teacher explained Surangi hung onto every word. Like a jasmine creeper planted in the courtyard Dnyaneshwar's vine of devotion ascended to the higher plane, rejecting Maya, the illusionary world seeking self realisation. He expresses gratitude that this vine of divine philosophy blossomed in his mind, sprouting thoughts like fresh flowers. Weaving these into the fabric of literature he dedicates them to the Divine Lord, his source of inspiration.
Surangi did not know that she was soon to be rudely yanked out of the world of spiritual philosophy and would come face to face with the harsh reality of life. As soon as her classes wound up she came to the spot where she would meet Madhav and Waman before they walked home. She heard some commotion and Moru came to her flying like a dart.
"Vahini, come quickly, Madhav dada is hurt." He said. Surangi's heart skipped a beat, she had always imagined Madhav to be invincible. She ran behind Moru to the spot where some boys and girls had gathered around Madhav who looked like he had been beaten up.
"What happened?" A worried Surangi asked Waman, who looked quite agitated.
"That rascal Balu and his gang, they attacked Dada. He gave them a tough fight though!" Waman replied proudly like a typical boy.
Surangi was shocked to notice that Madhav's nose was bleeding, his arms and legs were bruised and his shirt sported blotches of red blood. Rohini, a girl of Madhav's age had a handkerchief pressed over Madhav's nose to stop the blood. Seeing the panic in Surangi's eyes Madhav signalled to her to stay composed.
"I'll be back in a minute!" She muttered to Waman before running back to her school yard looking for the herbal panacea that grew there. When she returned she had a couple of fleshy leaves of aloe vera in her palms. She ripped them open and held the chunks rich with gel on Madhav's bruises and wounds. Rohini and other girls offered to help. Surangi knew how popular the brainy Madhav, he had a wide female fan following, another reason why Balu resented him.
"Ok girls, unhand me now, I am not some warrior wounded in battle. Thank you for your help but it is time for everyone to head home now." Madhav said impatiently. The children stepped aside and Madhav got up, asking Waman to follow him to a nearby well. Waman drew some water and Madhav tidied himself as much as possible rinsing his bloody shirt with some soapberry foam. He wrung it dry and began walking home with his bare torso, bag held in one hand and wet shirt in another.
"Are you feeling fine?" Surangi asked him with tear-filled eyes as she tried to keep up.
"Why should I not be fine? And you can stop crying now, I am ok!" Madhav replied without looking at her.
"What was the fight about?" Surangi asked Waman in a hushed tone, trying to avoid Madhav.
"Oh just this and that, nothing important." Waman was obliged to stick to the men's code of keeping secrets.
Just before they got home Surangi asked the boys to stop. "Bhaoji, go on ahead, we will follow in a minute!" Surangi told Waman who simply left without a word of protest.
"I need to know, what was the fight about?" She asked Madhav who stared at her as if she had asked him the most embarrassing question in the world.
"It was nothing, I told you so already." He said to her abruptly before turning away and walking homeward.
"Wait!" Surangi held his wrist making him halt abruptly. "Did he say something about me? I have to know." She said.
"Balu is a wretched pest, he does not need a valid reason to fight. But if you must know he was bothering Rohini and I taught him a lesson. Rather than fight like a man he called in his goons and soon it became a free-for-all. The cowards ran off when they saw other boys fighting fiercely to defend me. Boys are fierce, accept it! It is in our nature. You haven't grown up around boys so you may be unfamiliar." He told her calmly.
"But what if he had hurt you badly? You should have kicked him between his legs!" Surangi remarked.
"Where on earth did you hear that?" Madhav grinned spontaneously at the suggestion.
"Chandri told me, she says it is where a man is most vulnerable. Women should remember that if they are attacked." She admitted, although she was not sure about the veracity of the information.
"Look, that is taking it to the extreme! Most guys avoid hitting each other in the groin, it is the guy code. Besides I am sure Balu's parents want grandchildren someday! Come on, let's go home now!" Madhav began walking and Surangi followed, wondering what kicking a boy in the groin had to do with having grandchildren.
As usual both Madhav and Waman underplayed the situation when they were questioned about the fight. Aaji dressed the wounds with alum and turmeric to help heal them faster. Madhav managed to diffuse tension by reminding everyone of the impending Tulsi wedding.
"Yashodye, remind your husband to have a word with Balu's father, that boy is really incorrigible!" Aaji reminded her daugher-in-law who simply nodded. Yashoda knew Madhav was not at fault, Balu was an infamous bully. She was secretly glad that her son had stood up for the right cause and had been supported by other children during the fight.
After lunch the women and children began assembling things required for the festivities. Surangi helped Sharayu make the rangoli pattern around the Tulsi while the boys tied sugarcane sticks and flower garlands to decorate the potted basil plant. Oil lamps were lit in the courtyard after the auspicious paraphernalia had been put together.
"Vahini, did you know that Madhav dada too was married to our Tulsi?" Waman informed Surangi with a cheeky grin on his face. During the festival the Tulsi serves as the bride and Vishnu, the supposed groom is represented either by an idol of Krishna or a black fossilised shell called Shaligram. In many homes a young boy serves as the proxy groom. Now that Madhav was already married to Surangi it was Waman's turn to be Krishna's substitute.
Surangi was familiar with the custom, having attended many such mock weddings in her own neighbourhood. The Tulsi wedding ritual took place in every home over a period of four days, with children shuttling from home to home to attend and to enjoy the treats distributed. Waman stood dressed like a Hindu groom with garland in hand, separated from his botanical bride by a length of fabric called the Antarpaat. The family counted down to the auspicious moment as the men recited the eight auspicious verses called Mangal Ashtaka.
Surangi's favourite verses included the one about the eight sacred Ganesh shrines in Maharashtra and another about the mythological fourteen gems obtained by churning the ocean. Much to Surangi's surprise her own husband recited the verse about the important rivers of India, seeking their blessings for the occasion. She listened carefully and realised that every syllable had been flawlessly recited by Madhav.
Ganga Sindhu Saraswati Cha Yamuna Godavari Narmada
Kaveri Sharayu Mahendratanaya Charmanvati Vedika
Kshipra Vetr.vati Mahasur.nadi Khyata Cha Ya Gandaki
Purn Purnajaleh Samudr. Sahita Kurvantu Me Mangalam
Shubh.Mangala Sav.dhan
When the final verse was recited the Anarpaat was removed and Waman garlanded the Tulsi plant, Those present showered grains of coloured rice on the bridal couple. Surangi and Madhav helped distribute bits of sugar cane, fresh coconut slivers, sliced fruit, peanuts and ladoos to the guests who ran off to another home to attend the next wedding as soon as they had polished off the treats. The Oak family then sat down to a feast before going to bed. A tired Surangi fell asleep hoping to dream of kicking Balu where it would hurt him the most.