January 10, 2001, was the fateful day on which my marriage was fixed. The venue of marriage was the holy city of Varanasi, situated between the two tributaries of Ganga named, Varuna and Assi. Thus, the name “Varanasi” (Varuna + Assi = Varanasi) for the City.
The year 2001 had a great significance for the Hindus as it was the year of Maha Kumbh Mela, considered to be the most auspicious in the last 144 years. That year, it was to be held in Allahabad (present-day Prayagraj), where the three holy rivers—Ganga, Yamuna, and the mythical Saraswati—meet to become one at the holy Sangam (Confluence).
A holy dip at the Sangam during the Kumbh Mela is supposed to wash away all your sins and give you salvation.
Varanasi, also known as “Kashi” and “Benaras,” is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, probably because it is on the banks of the holy river Ganga. Most of the old civilizations have been known to flourish on the banks of rivers, as fresh water is a basic need for survival. These larger-than-history cities boast of magnificent architecture and amazing stories of destruction and revival.
Such is the city of Varanasi, which is said to be protected by the God of Gods—Mahadev himself! In local folklore, Mahadev is called “The Kotwal of Kashi,” where nothing can go wrong as Mahadev, the great savior, safeguards it. (‘Kotwal’ means the in-charge of a police station.)
Kashi is also one of the 12 Jyotirlingas of Lord Shiva.
The twelve Jyotirlingas, also called the ‘Dwadash Jyotirlingas,’ are considered to be the holiest of all shrines dedicated to Lord Shiva. According to Hindu mythology, whosoever does the divine darshan of these 12 holy Jyotirlingas will be released from the cycle of life and death.
A devout Hindu makes it his life goal to visit all 12 Jyotirlingas before his death, as it is believed to free him from the shackles of rebirth and grant him moksha (salvation).
As such, though the Maha Kumbh Mela was at Allahabad (present-day Prayagraj), about 131 km by road from Kashi, there was still a sea of people in Varanasi. Those visiting Allahabad used the opportunity to visit nearby Kashi and fulfill their religious obligation of visiting one of the most important Jyotirlingas.
Varanasi is important not only for Hindus but also for Buddhists (Sarnath, the famous Buddhist shrine, is in Varanasi) and Jains (Tirthankar was born here). In addition, the 365 ghats on the banks of the Ganga are a major tourist attraction.
The Ganga Aarti in the evenings, with the chants of “Har Har Gange” and “Har Har Mahadev,” is an unforgettable and mesmerizing experience that stays with you for a lifetime.
It is believed that one who dies at Kashi goes directly to heaven.
Many sick and elderly people express their desire to breathe their last in Kashi. The last rites of the dead are performed at the famous Harishchandra Ghat on the banks of the Ganga.
Okay, now, coming back to my wedding, let me first introduce myself geographically!
I have been born and brought up in the capital city of the southernmost state of India, i.e., Chennai (erstwhile Madras), which is known for its hot and humid weather conditions throughout the year. There is no need for winter clothing in this city.
If someone is seen wearing a sweater or shawl, it is assumed that they are sick!
But as fate would have it, my marriage was taking place with a North Indian guy born and brought up in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh.
As per tradition, the groom’s family goes to the bride’s house for the wedding. However, my would-be mother-in-law was very sick at that time, and the groom’s family requested us to travel to their place for the wedding.
Simpletons that we were, we agreed instantly, being totally unaware of what was in store for us!
Not many relatives were willing to travel so far by train for the wedding. So, only the close ones—those enthusiastic about visiting a new city—boarded the Ganga Cauvery Express for the journey from Chennai to Benares.
The journey up to Nagpur was fun, with a large group of family members who had come together after a long time. But after Nagpur, the weather changed drastically—it was biting cold. North India was reeling under a cold wave.
My in-laws had warned us about the cold and advised us to bring winter clothing. My aunts, uncles, and other relatives, confident in their resilience, carried one sweater or shawl each, assuming it would be more than enough to beat the cold. However, in the Sleeper Class coach, where the windows wouldn’t shut properly, the chilly wind from outside dampened everyone’s spirits. Soon, my relatives started second-guessing their decision to travel so far for my wedding.
One of my uncles, with his great sense of humor, tried to lift the mood with jokes and mimicry. The journey continued, though the relatives—quick to complain in such situations—expressed their discomfort.
Then, the train reached Itarsi, Madhya Pradesh.
Lo and behold! Hundreds of people, carrying massive vessels, boarded our coach and encroached upon every inch of space.
No amount of shouting—“This is a reserved compartment! You can’t enter like this!”—made any difference. They ignored us completely. Some even sat near our legs, blocking the passage to the toilet with their huge vessels.
Being law-abiding citizens from the South, who wouldn’t dare to travel ticketless or enter a reserved compartment unauthorized, this was completely new to us.
My relatives grumbled endlessly.
One of our co-passengers, noticing our frustration, said:
“This is Maha Kumbh Mela season. Every train passing through Allahabad is like this. Not only the trains—every mode of transport is fully packed! If someone needs to reach Allahabad in an emergency, only God Himself can make arrangements for them.”
Realizing that our complaints wouldn’t change anything, we resigned ourselves to our fate. We later learned that the crowd was heading to Allahabad for the Maha Kumbh Mela to set up a food stall—hence the large vessels.
Finally, Allahabad Station arrived. The crowd detrained, giving us some much-needed breathing space.
Somehow, we reached a foggy, misty, and extremely cold Varanasi on the 8th of January 2001.
After a day of rest on the 9th, the nikaah (Muslim marriage is called nikaah) was to be solemnized on the 10th of January, 2001.
We were put up at a lodge in a place called Dalmandi, in the heart of Varanasi city. This place is an extremely busy and crowded marketplace. Staying here turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as it resolved two major issues.
Firstly, all my relatives could buy additional winter clothing—mufflers, scarves, socks—to protect themselves from the biting cold. Secondly, a potential hurdle in the solemnization of the nikaah was also resolved with ease.
Many wouldn’t know that wearing a nath/nathini (a nose ornament) by the bride is compulsory in a nikaah. Being a South Indian, my nose was pierced on the right side, whereas in the north, girls usually get the left side of their nose pierced. The nath is given to the bride by the groom’s family. A day before the marriage, my in-laws handed over the nath along with other ceremonial items. But since my nose was pierced on the right side, the nath would have to be worn in reverse, making me a laughing stock in front of so many friends and relatives.
This problem had to be solved, and we had only a day to do so. We hurriedly searched for a goldsmith in the market and explained the issue to him. Thankfully, he understood and cut the gold chain of the nath, molding it from the other end so that I could wear it properly without it flipping to the wrong side.
What a relief it was!
But our problems did not end there. This was just the tip of the iceberg.
Usually, Muslim weddings are planned in the evenings, followed by a lavish dinner. However, due to the cold climate, our wedding was thoughtfully scheduled for 11 AM, followed by lunch, ensuring that all the guests could return home before nightfall and avoid the biting cold.
But as they say, “Man proposes, and God disposes!”
D-day arrived as scheduled. The venue, a spacious marriage hall called Aashirwaad Vatika, was being decorated and prepared for the function. Everything seemed to be falling into place—until the unexpected happened.
Scenario at Aashirwad Vatika
The groom’s family and close relatives, who were overseeing the wedding arrangements, arrived early to ensure that everything was proceeding as planned. The caterers had also reached the venue and begun their preparations. With the nikaah arrangements in full swing, time steadily moved from 8 AM to 9 AM, then 9 AM to 10 AM. Guests had started arriving, and the moulana (religious cleric) who would conduct the wedding rituals was present.
But there was one glaring problem—neither the bride nor her family were anywhere to be seen.
As the clock ticked closer to 11 AM, my in-laws began to grow increasingly anxious. They knew traffic congestion could cause delays, but we had been instructed to leave the lodge by 7 AM. By all calculations, we should have arrived by 9 AM at the latest. Yet, we were nowhere to be found.
Doubt began creeping into their minds. This wedding had already strained relationships within their family. My father-in-law’s younger brother had three daughters, and he had hoped one of them would marry my husband. Cousin marriages are common in Muslim culture, but my husband had refused the proposal, leading to a deep rift between the families—one that would last for years. The decision to accept an alliance with a girl from South India had already made my in-laws question if they had acted too hastily.
What if my family had changed their mind? What if we had quietly left Varanasi without informing anyone? The shame and ridicule they would face among relatives and friends would be unbearable. Worse, their son would be devastated.
As tensions rose, some relatives began whispering and questioning the whereabouts of the bride. The moulana, too, started expressing his frustration. My in-laws, despite their growing unease, maintained a calm front, pacifying guests with refreshments while assuring them the nikaah would take place soon. But in their hearts, they were deeply worried.
Time was slipping away. 12 noon was fast approaching, a critical moment because zawaal time—when the sun is directly overhead—is considered inauspicious for a nikaah. If we didn’t arrive before then, the ceremony could not take place.
By the time the clock struck 12, the murmur of impatience had grown into outright grumbling. Some guests threatened to leave, while others began cracking unpleasant jokes.
My father-in-law, a man known for his short temper, remarkably kept his composure that day. Understanding the situation required quick thinking, he made a bold decision—lunch would be served before the nikaah. At the very least, this would keep guests occupied and prevent the food from going to waste if the worst were to happen.
This unexpected change puzzled the guests. A wedding feast before the nikaah? It was unheard of. But the aroma of rich, flavorful dishes soon overpowered their curiosity. The questions and complaints faded as they turned their attention to the food, indulging in the lavish spread before them.
Meanwhile at Dalmandi
My father-in-law had warned us about the probable traffic jam on our route to Aashirwad Vatika, which was the venue of the wedding. He had asked us to start by 7 am in the morning so that we could reach the venue in time even if there was a traffic jam on the way. Despite the extremely cold weather, I was woken up at 4 in the morning to have my bath and get ready.
Anyways, did I have an option? Thank God that lodge had hot water facility. So, it was not that much of a torture to have a bath at that unseemly hour in the morning. I don’t know how many of my other relatives from Chennai bathed that day, as it was damn cold and none of them were used to such chilly weather conditions.
Taxis were arranged for us to take us to the venue of the marriage ceremony which was about 20 kms from our place of stay. In normal conditions, we would have reached within 45 minutes to 1 hour. But the situation was not normal due to the Maha Kumbh Mela crowd outside. The taxi couldn’t budge even an inch at some places. I had never seen such a traffic jam in my life. There seemed to be people and vehicles all around. The crowd on the roads did not allow the vehicles to move forward. Nobody seemed to follow any of the traffic rules.
We were stranded in our vehicles. Those days, there were no mobile phones. As such, we were unable to contact my in-laws and convey our situation to them. The taxi moved less and remained static more. I managed to take a much-needed nap in the taxi, and when I woke up, I was wondering where was I? Oh yes, I was in Benares, and the words of Mark Twain about Benares came to my mind instantly.
“Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.”
What Mark Twain wrote in 1897 seemed to be true even today. Yes, despite all the haphazardness about the city, it still had an undeniable ancient aura about it.
But at that time, sitting in the taxi, I was wondering what is so important about this Maha Kumbh Mela that people are going crazy about it? My marriage seemed to be on the verge of ruin as it didn’t look like we would reach the venue of the marriage before the auspicious time as printed on the marriage invitation. I could see the tension on my mother’s face as she sat beside me praying silently.
What if the groom’s family got angry and called off the wedding as we could not reach the venue at the desired time? Now even my family started getting doubts as to whether they had taken a wrong decision in marrying off their daughter at such a far-off place.
Despite all odds, we kept our faith in the Almighty and left our fate in His hands.
As we sat stranded in our taxis, one of my talkative aunts struck up a conversation with the taxi driver. She told him that all that she knew about Kumbh Mela was what she had seen in the Bollywood movies—families getting separated, brothers getting lost in the Kumbh Mela crowd, and how they reunite after many years when they grow up!
Despite the tense atmosphere inside the taxi, we all laughed at her description of the Kumbh Mela. The taxi driver, however, seemed to have quite a lot of knowledge about Hindu mythology. He started explaining to us the importance of Maha Kumbh Mela and why there was so much crowd.
He told us:
“Kumbh Mela derives its name from two Sanskrit words: ‘Kumbh’, which means a pot, and ‘Mela’, which means a fair. As per Hindu mythology, there was a fight between the deities and demons for the pot containing the nectar of immortality, which was produced by their joint churning of the milky ocean. During their fight, a few drops of this nectar fell from the heaven at four places on earth. So, Kumbh Mela is held at these four places—Allahabad (Prayag), Haridwar, Ujjain, and Nashik—once in every 12 years.”
He further told us that there is an age-old belief that bathing at the place where the nectar fell on the earth would absolve all sins and the devotee would attain moksha (liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth). It is due to this faith and belief that millions of devotees from all across the world attend the Kumbh Mela to take a sacred dip at the Sangam, making it the world’s largest peaceful gathering on Mother Earth.
And yes, there was another reality about the Kumbh Mela which the taxi driver told us that day—one that left us sad and shocked at the same time.
He told us:
“Many families take their elderly to the Kumbh Mela on the pretext of a holy dip and silently slip away, leaving the old man or woman thinking that they were lost in the sea of people. This seemed to be an apt opportunity to get rid of the unproductive elderly in the families without raising any suspicion of abandonment on them!”
I silently wondered, how could this sin of dumping their elderly be washed away with the holy dip?
Here we were, yet to find ourselves and lost before that…
Suddenly, there was loud honking, and the vehicles on the road started moving at a faster pace. I was jolted into reality from my reverie.
I looked at the time. It was past 12 noon—five hours since we started our journey from the lodge, and only half the distance was covered!
I would have been a married woman by this time in normal circumstances.
But it looked like fate wanted me to remain single for some more time!
Meanwhile at Aashirwad Vatika
The situation was very tense. My in-laws didn’t know what to do as there was no news from the bride’s family.
How I wish we had mobile phones in those days! We could have updated our status every few minutes and spared everyone all the tension and heartaches.
Today’s generation is truly blessed to have mobile phones, internet access, and the ability to connect with anyone, anywhere, in seconds.
But alas, we were not that lucky.
However, I realized that day, the age-old saying—
“Marriages are made in heaven.”
— is very true!
When you are destined to meet—or on a lighter note, mate (!)—no adversity can stop the meeting or the mating, lol!
After inching along for more than six hours, we finally reached the venue, much to the relief of both families.
But now, it was the turn of the Moulana to show his power.
He had been kept waiting for so long, that frustration had set in. He refused to conduct the nikaah, as the auspicious time had elapsed.
Now, we had to wait.
Much to everyone’s relief, the Moulana informed us that the next auspicious time was at 4 PM, the same day!
Just like in Christian weddings, where the Pastor asks the bride and groom for their consent before declaring them husband and wife, the Muslim tradition follows a similar practice—
The Moulana asks the bride and groom whether they accept each other, but in a more subtle way.
Instead of asking directly, he asks the bride whether she has accepted the Mehr (In Islam, a Mehr is a pre-nuptial obligation in the form of money or possessions paid by the groom to the bride at the time of marriage).
This allows the bride to respond without feeling shy in front of her family and relatives.
Where Christians say, “I do”, Muslims say, “Qubool hai.”
And so, on 10th January 2001, at 4 PM,
I said it.
"Qubool hai."
Our story of “Two States” began that day… and it is still continuing…