13
The Grand Wedding
Wedding Fever in Kaveri’s Home
The sun peeped over the green hills, spilling golden light onto Kaveri’s ancestral house. Inside, it was a flurry of activity — women in colourful sarees were tying the vastra around their heads, the fragrance of flowers, which had arrived for decoration, drifted through the air, and drums from the village valaga team echoed.
Kaveri was racing between rooms. “Where's the photographer? And the flower decorator?” she huffed.
Bopu, watching the chaos, nudged Bollu. “Look at her. She's become the wedding manager!”
Bollu wagged his tail as if in agreement and then chased a chicken that had wandered into the yard.
Kaveri snapped, “Bollu! Not now!”
Bopu grinned, “You’re next in line, Wedding Manager-amma. After Kusuma, we’ll need a double-decker pandal just for your drama!”
Kaveri rolled her eyes. “Don't start, Bopu!”
The Oorukuduva Day and the Snake Dance Surprise
The first day of the wedding, Oorukuduva, began at dawn. Smoke curled from the hearth as elders gathered at the Kaimada, to make offerings to their ancestors — the Guru Kaarana. The bride's family lit lamps, broke coconuts, and prayed silently.
“Are the ancestors okay with spicy pork curry offerings?” Bopu whispered to Kaveri.
“They’re Kodavas, not British ghosts,” she snapped, swatting his arm with a banana leaf.
Later in the evening, the wedding hall buzzed like a beehive. Aunties chopped vegetables with lightning speed, uncles shouted instructions nobody followed, and the smell of fresh coriander and wood smoke filled the air. Children ran amok.
the bride is led by bojakarthi to the sacred lamp on the stage where she offers prayer and her mother ties pathaak around her neck. She then seeks blessings of her parents, elders and her relatives by touching each person’s feet thrice and placing on her forehead.
As the wedding rituals started, Kusuma was led by bojakarthi to the sacred lamp on the stage, Kusuma offered prayer.
Then, Kusuma’s mother gently tied the pathaak — a stunning gold pendant crowned with a cobra hood — around Kusuma’s neck.
Bopu blinked at the glimmering ornament. “Whoa. Is that to keep away evil or attract rich uncles?”
“It’s to keep away boys like you,” Kaveri quipped.
Suddenly, the valaga drums struck up, an elderly man signalled the men to move towards the temporary setup lounge. Men obediently followed the instructions, sniffing the spirit from an open Brandy and Single malt.
Children joined the Valaga early and gave their best aat, while the elders joined as per their convenience.
Uncle Chengappa — too enthusiastic, already five brandies in — had leapt into the centre of the dance floor. Shirt half-open, he was twisting his arms above his head and doing what he called a snake dance to the beat of the drums.
“Chengappa at it again!” someone groaned.
Bopu howled with laughter. “Look! Bollu thinks it’s a real cobra!”
Sure enough, Bollu was barking at Chengappa flailing legs and trying to grab his shawl.
Kaveri nearly dropped a plate from laughing. “Quick, someone get a flute and a basket!”
As evening fell, the chaos turned into comfort. Guests sat under glowing lanterns and devoured the best of kodava cuisines noolputtu, pandi curry, baimbale curry, mutton roast, chicken fry,....... and a Paan at the end.
Some joined the valaga late after dinner and continued till mid night, as the social gathering continued with gossips and humour.
Uncle Chengappa, now asleep in a corner with a plantain leaf on his face, was at peace.
So was Bopu and Bollu, yawning at a corner after 3 rounds of desserts, post dinner.
Muhurtha, Banana Stems & and the handover of the bride
From their corner near the stone tulsi pot, Bopu and Bollu sat like hawks on a mango tree — watching every wedding ritual with wide eyes and twitching noses.
The muhurtha had begun, and the bride Kusuma sat gracefully on a low wooden platform, her forehead glowing with sandal paste. One by one, family members and guests blessed her, offered gifts, and whispered advice only half of which she could understand — and none of which she dared to ignore.
“She looks like a goddess,” whispered Bopu.
Kaveri, passing by with a tray of beetroot curry, heard that. “A goddess, huh? What’ll you say at my wedding?”
Bopu smirked. “Probably ‘May her poor husband survive this hurricane.’”
Bollu barked in agreement. Kaveri grumbled, “Traitor dog.”
Soon it was lunchtime — a typical Kodava feast. Guests sat on tables as hot banana leaves were spread out for a typical kodava wedding lunch.
Bopu leaned over his banana leaf to Kaveri’s. “Maybe, your wedding lunch will be tastier….”
She hissed, “If you talk again, your face will land in the pickle.”
Afternoon light filtered through the trees, when the groom and his family finally arrived. Bopu and Bollu stood on tiptoe to see the tall man with a thick moustache and in a white kupya step out of the jeep.
The moment they had waited for came — “Baale Kethuvo”, the ceremonial act where banana stems are chopped. The maternal uncles of both bride and groom stepped forward, each wielding a shining odi kathi. With proud smiles, they sliced the banana stems placed on a wooden block.
Bopu gasped. “Whoa! That’s cooler than karate class.”
Next came the traditional conversation, where elders from both families stood in rows facing each other before the sacred lamp. In rhythmic, age-old words, they spoke of lineage, pride, honour — and formally granted the bride to the groom’s family.
The bride and groom, exchanged Garlands!
“It’s like watching two cricket team captains do a coin toss,” Bopu whispered.
“And both teams are already planning extra innings,” Kaveri added, rolling her eyes.
The wedding reached its high point. The sacred lamp flickered, and Kusuma stood beside her groom, her eyes misty, smile glowing.
As they prepared to leave for the groom’s house, Kaveri fell unusually silent.
Bopu leaned closer. “Last chance, Kaveri. Want me to hide in the luggage and stop them?”
Kaveri didn’t respond. For once, even Bollu didn’t bark.
Farewell
Later, under the moonlit sky, the newlyweds sat in a jeep, ready to leave. Kusuma looked radiant but teary.
The jeep’s engine roared to life, and the bride — Kaveri’s sister — was on her way to a new home.
Kaveri stood silently, clutching her sister’s hand. “Be the same brave Kusuma always. Don’t let him boss you too much. But… be good to him too. He looks scared already.”
Her new brother-in-law chuckled nervously. “I’ll try my best, Kaveri.”
She turned to him, suddenly serious. “Take care of her. She’s my everything.”
Kusuma hugged her tight. “And you’ll always be mine.”
Bopu, watching from a distance, whispered to Bollu, “Who knew even Miss Volcano has a heart?”
Bollu gave a low whine, ears drooped.
The Sister Who Stayed and the Friends Who Tease
The next morning, the house felt too quiet. The jasmine garlands had wilted, the drums were gone, and Kusuma’s laughter was missing.
Kaveri sat on the porch steps, eyes puffy, chewing on a leftover pandi curry bun.
Bopu came by, balancing two mugs of steaming kaapi. “Missing her already?”
Kaveri nodded silently.
Bopu sat beside her. “Don’t worry, I’m here. And Bollu too.”
Bollu jumped up and licked Kaveri’s cheek, making her giggle.
“Also,” Bopu added with a wicked grin, “don’t get too used to peace. Your wedding’s next. I’ve already prepared my speech!”
Kaveri threw her kaapi at him. “You’re impossible!”
As they chased each other down the coffee path, laughter echoed once more across the hills of Coorg — the bond of friends, the warmth of family, and the scent of a wedding still lingering in the air.