Austere weddings, ‘premium’ luxuries: The other side of lockdown stories
| Date :20-May-2020 |
By Rahul Dixit :
ANXIETY writ large on his face, Maniram Bondre kept looking for a ‘friendly’ invitation to that evening’s wedding ceremony. It never came. And another feast was lost. On other days, he would have been hogging on the ‘aaloo-baingan’ and ‘sweet boondi’, a staple menu in most weddings in rural Vidarbha. However, these are different times. This year, Maniram and scores like him, have been robbed off a roaring and sumptuous wedding season. The Covid-induced lockdown has changed life in many ways. Rural parts of the country are waking up to these changes, strange in nature for them.
The pandemic has broken regular habits and also introduced people to a newer lifestyle. Weddings have gone from fat to absolutely austere, something that the likes of Maniram are yet to get used to. “Not more than 30 people are invited to weddings these days. We tried to postpone the scheduled ceremonies but circumstances forced us to get on with it albeit in a sombre manner,” says Chepa Sarwe, a farmer from Borgaon in Mohadi tehsil of Bhandara district. He got his daughter married in a function shorn of regular festivities. “Corona has changed everything. A few days ago one of our friends went alone to get married, finished the rituals in a jiffy and brought the bride home on his motorcycle. No band, no baaja, no baarat...,” the lament of missing on a celebration was evident in Durgesh Pingale’s voice. Wedding celebrations, usually, are double delight for the groom’s friends. One feast at the bride’s place and other at the reception back home.
All that frolicking has been shunned this year. A few lucky ones only can get wedding invitation. As the festivities have curtailed, wedding planners, caterers and band-wallahs have also been left in the lurch. Some bagged little contracts but only after drastic reduction in charges. However, not all are sad with the situation. For the parents of the bride and groom it is a god-send opportunity to save on the expenses. Marriages are mostly a community event in villages. Hardly anyone is bothered about proper invitation. Serving dinner to the ‘baaratis’ is a cumbersome exercise, for, the partakers keep multiplying after each round. The party goes on late into the night with the last rounds reserved for the ‘cheers’ leaders. “This year there are no late-night sojourns.
Of course, we are missing the celebrations. Yet, the amount saved on festivities would be of great help once the lockdown ends and reality confronts us. Nobody knows what the future after corona holds for the farmers,” a bride’s father tells the truth. The silent wedding season is part of double whammy for the rural folks. They are deprived of lavish food and also liquor as wine shops have been shut in the lockdown. Liquor has become a precious commodity, hard to find and too expensive. The lockdown opened doors to rake in quick bucks for the ‘mahua’ makers. One bottle, that is usually priced at Rs 100, is sold for Rs 300. For the labourers engaged in sand excavation (illegal, of course!) it is a premium luxury that could be bought only if there is group contribution.
“The rates have come down to Rs 200 now as country-liquor shops have opened,” reveals one of the workers bringing sand from Wainganga basin. Yet, the problem has not been solved. Country liquor shops are allowed to operate only from 11 am to 4 pm. For the labourers it is duty time. To overcome this problem some have ‘outsourced’ the purchase. Proxies are being sent to buy liquor from the shops. But this has brought another problem - of ‘conveyance charges’. The proxies purchase in bulk and sell the stuff in villages with ‘additional taxes’. “These are coronavirus taxes. It seems we will have to live with it,” Maniram sums up life in lockdown.
