The husband and wife combo can be spotted in any wedding in our family, even if the groom or bride is a distant relative or a cousin twice or several times removed. A wedding card or even the news that reached them by word of mouth is enough for them to get dressed in their best. Their specialty is the mandatory oonjal (swing) slot prior to the wedding.
Of the two, the wife, the lead singer, is a fairly tall lady tastefully attired in a de rigueur 18-cubit handloom sari tied with meticulous precision, her face mellowed due to intermittent application of the yellow tuber and a forehead sporting a bright red kungumam dot, the size of a five-rupee coin.
No sooner is the groom lured away from the feigned kasi yatra with the offer of an alluring bride than they will be seated together on the swing that will oscillate slowly. Our singing sensation would hold the chains and belt out songs in praise of Raja Rajeswari, her husband, taking the bass, parked behind her. The lyrics will conform to a time-honoured template, suitably modified by introducing the names of the boy and girl currently getting married.
They will not vacate the stage for other singers as their rendition will be continued seamlessly, even the nadaswaram artiste traditionally meant to follow suit standing dumbfounded, annoyed at the foul game, but all in good fun. The couple will continue till the crowd around clapped slowly, signalling they have reached the satiation point, or the priest officiating the wedding urged them to get on with it as the auspicious time is getting over.
After the oonjal slot there will be no more occasion to exercise their vocal chords until the evening’s nalangu. Our singing sensation would retain herself as the master of ceremonies, umpiring childish games played by the couple with coconuts and papads. With so many converged around the brand new mat, the playground of the newlyweds, she will silence other contenders and sing as the couple sit facing each other, rolling the coconuts.
The singing duo had vanished from the wedding circuits and could not be spotted anywhere. I saw them in an old-age home recently, hobbling with a lurching gait. Their eyes lit up as I recalled their star song. Together, they sang Raja Rajeswari in a trembling voice, with tears rolling down. The spirit was still willing, but the flesh was not.
Email: jsraghavan@yahoo.com