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My first visit to a Jaunpuri wedding
With summer just round the corner, it is time to
escape to the cool heights of the Himalayas. While the call of the familiar resorts beckons there are many valleys here where
a fascinating people live almost undiscovered, isolated.
One such community that traces its lineage to the
warring Pandava and Kaurava brothers of the epic Mahabharata, makes its home in the western mountains of the Garhwal Himalayas.
Almost two thousand years past the events mentioned in this great epic, these villagers still abide by the customs and rituals
as narrated in the Mahabharata. Inhabiting the hilly tracts of the river Yamuna and its tributary, the Tons, the people worship
the two feuding clans.
We were invited to attend a friends wedding at Masri,
a tiny hamlet in the higher Tons valley. We did not jump at the offer for it entailed walking almost 60 kms carrying rucksacks
and traversing treacherous hilly tracts to reach this Himalayan outpost. However, it appeared an exciting proposition as we
recalled interesting descriptions of the place we had heard earlier. Not deterred by the odds, we made up our mind to leave
the next day.
It took us an overnight bus journey to
reach Dehradun. From there we boarded another bus bound for Naitwar, the nearest road head from Masri. In the bus, we met
a boy who was going back to his village for the winter vacations. He came from Lakhmandal, a village midway to our journey
to Naitwar. During the bus ride, he narrated the legend of the ancient temple in Lakhmandal devoted to the Pandavas.
Lakhmandal, the lac-palace, was where the Kauravas
had decided to murder the five Pandavas and their mother by setting fire to the place one night.
Lakhmandal is about four km across the Yamuna and
curious to see the ruins we decided to stop for the night. There is no bridge across the Yamuna here and one has to cross
the river with the help of a rope trolley, operated manually in what practically appears to be a rickety cage suspended
over the river. And the Yamuna here is not the gentle river one sees at Delhi, but a roaring stream - "no mortal mocks her
fury - no mortal stops her onward charge."
On reaching Lakhmandal, we were taken around
the village and shown its fabulous temple. There are a number of idols strewn around the temple courtyard; the pundit of the
temple told us that Lakhmandal also means hundred thousand idols. Outside the temple stood two life-like idols believed to
the those of Arjun and Bheem, two of the Pandava brothers.
Though there are no hotels or tourist rest house
at Lakhmandal, we
had no problem in finding a room to spend the night. It is also
possible to stay at Naugaon, a small
town twenty kilometres away and
visit Lakhmandal during the day.
By the next evening, we reached Naitwar where we
spent the night at
the forest rest house. There are
a number of small shops here where one can get a no-frills meal. The next day we visited a nearby
village, Dewra. Here is a temple devoted to Karan, cousin to the Kauravas and Pandavas. At the time of our visit, the
deity had been taken on a pilgrimage, on foot to Kedarnath temple, some 300 km away.
Next morning we woke to the roaring sound of the rivers Rupin and Supin which join at Naitwar to form the Tons. After a hurried
breakfast, we trudged downhill to the village almost
five hundred feet below the forest rest house. Here we visited the temple of
Baku, a demon disciple of Lord Shiva.
We frequently enquired how far Masri was and were always told that we were almost there. After walking the whole day, we managed
to reach Doni, half way to Masri. Here we were welcomed by Roji Singh, the young village chief who turned out to be a very interesting person.
He took us to his house and we were made to feel
at home.
In the evening, while having dinner,
we heard the sound of drums and singing.
The festival of Magh, celebrated throughout the month of
Febuary
was on in full swing. During the festival, a goat is
sacrificed in each house and there is an air of celebration
everywhere. Roji asked us to visit the Ring-hall with him at night and in the pitch dark he led us to the village courtyard,
now lit by firelight.
Two rows of dancers moved rhythmically in
waves. The silent hills
echoed to melodious ballads
sung in unison. We were invited to join the dance. Roji explained the steps to us and soon we were dancing
along. The tempo increased to see if we could keep in step.
When we were able to match the changing paces,
we were accepted and the dance resumed as before.
Next morning we had
company to Masri as the pundit who was to
perform the
marriage was also going from Doni. Enroute he informed us that he and his brother had a common wife as their father
could not afford to get them married separately.
Our friend, being the only graduate in the Supin
valley,
could afford a wife all for himself.
At Masri, the atmosphere
was informal and the men continued spinning wool and drinking at the same time as preparing for the wedding festivities. The
bride's relatives danced through the night.
In the morning, a procession started from the
bride's house. Accompanied by her family and relatives, the bride led the procession.
Once it reached the bridegroom's house, his family
received the guests and offered them homemade wine, especially brewed for this occasion.
For the first time, the bridegroom emerged from
his house and we could see him blushing! He was made to sit next to the bride. The pundit,
who had played a perfunctory
role till now, started chanting mantras
and asked the couple to hold a calf's tail and within minutes
the
ceremony was over. A goat was sacrificed to ward off evil spirits
and both families performed the Rasu dance
in which the dancers hold
a sickle in their hands.
The bride's relatives continued to enjoy the hospitality
accorded by
Jagdish's father for another two days. We joined the festivity and
enjoyed ourselves
till it was time to return from dreamland. Wishing
Jagdish and his wife the best of luck; we thanked
them for the
marvellous time we had spent with them. All too soon we were
back on the treacherous trail, which had now become quite familiar and we
trudged back with a heavy, nostaligic feeling.
This whole area is a declared national park and
visitors have to
fill in a register kept at Naitwar with forest department officials.
as told by Rakesh Bhatt and his lovely wife Radha
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