Eating slowly, bit by bit may keep you hungry in commuity feast, as it happened with me, in a marriage in young age.
My school summer vacations in sixties were mostly spent in Garhwal hills near Deoprayag with my aunt. I could not speak the local Garhwali as glibly as they did, and failed to decipher certain slangs so they referred me as Delhi wala. I was slow to eat, and justified this habit with the precept, “Drink the food and eat the water.” Fearing that I may remain unfed at the marriage that I was excited to attend as barati, my aunt advised two local fellows loud & clear to ensure that I eat and sleep befittingly. “We take that guarantee,” promised the duo.
With few roads in that era, hill journey on foot was the norm. After a brief halt at Byasi, the famed Nayar-Ganga confluence where Ved Vyas is known to have scripted Mahabharata, the refreshed baratis proceeded, steep 3 km upwards.
At marriage venue, as we took position for much awaited grand feast, my seat lay at the other end of the row on the floor. With sumptuous items being served one by one, many couldn’t resist and started in full steam. As a gentleman, I maintained dignity and waited till last item was served – that faux pas I discovered in retrospect. By the time I could take a couple of morsels, many had finished, and stood up to quit. Embarrassed that continuing alone shall dub me as glutton, I wrapped my leafy plate and moved towards queue of hand wash. As last hope, I picked a chunk of hardened haluwa to devour and satiate my empty stomach, till my turn. That done, my duo ‘caretakers’ appeared from nowhere and asked me to forthright accompany them to a ‘nice’ retiring place. My appeal to witness the night ceremonies was summarily dismissed. Aided with the dim light of a torch in the dark ambience, I was taken to second floor of a spacious, desolate mansion. Pointing the torch light towards a bed in a macabre hall, they advised me to lie there and disappeared.
With thirst, and urge to relieve fidgetting me, the lonesome night was a nightmare. But for that chunk of haluwa, hell would have broken loose, for sure.
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Published at edit page 6 in Assam Tribune of 20 December 2020.
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