The Ups and Downs of Married Life Preface: Marriage is a Pod of Lentil

In the Hindu culture, there is a system of 16 rituals (sanskaras) that are supposed to be performed from birth to death of a human life which is believed to span 100 years. Although in the order of sanskaras, the wedding ceremony takes the 15th place, the 14 rituals that precede it are in fact counted as rituals that prepare a person for life. This is because the bodies, minds, and intellects of the young men and women mature by the time they reach marriageable age (25 years according to the shastras). By getting married, they enter grihastha-ashram (the household phase of life) and start leading the worldly life. Our culture has determined the ages for the four different ashramas (phases) of human life—bramhacharya-ashram (student life, 0-25 years), grihastha-ashram (household life, 25-50 years), vanprastha-ashram (retired life, 50-75 years), sanyasa-ashram (renunciation, 75-100 years). Out of the four phases, the second one—the household phase, is of special importance. This phase, in fact, is considered the foundation of the other three phases. Whether it’s a student or a retired person, or a sanyasi (an ascetic), they all depend on the household phase of life. Not just for the fulfilment of one’s natural and primary needs, but even the arrangements for the 16 rituals are completed by the people in the household phase (families). From birth to marriageable age, a person’s informal education and sanskaras (values) are imparted by their families.

A young man and a young woman are united in the society by way of a wedding ritual and a new family is established. According to Indian philosophy and rituals, a marriage is not just a union of two individuals, but it’s a union of two families. This is why it has been customary to match the qualities and values of the two families (before a wedding). In our shastras (scriptures), many rules and rituals have been established for the wedding ceremony. Those have been followed too.

While marriage is definitely for the fulfilment of a man and woman’s natural needs and worldly desires, a family and society’s welfare and appropriate progress also depends on the success of a marriage.  Marriage is a promise in which a man and a woman become one. In Indian culture, Shiva and Parvati (the ideal couple) have been presented in the form of ardhanareeshwar (half man, half woman), in which one complements the other. Without one, the other cannot be imagined. Nature has made them both each-other’s requirement.

Upon thinking deeply about the operating elements of a married life, it felt a hundred percent appropriate to compare marriage to a pod of lentil (moong, chana, arhar, matar, masur—different types of lentils). The seed coat that covers the lentil is what keeps the two halves of the seed together. As long as the coat exists, the two halves of the seed are connected to each other. They have life. Not only can they multiply, but the highest thoughts are also born and developed in this union. It is also true that on a discussion over a given topic, a woman has a feminine opinion while a man will have a masculine opinion. As an outcome, the elements that emerge are socially useful and harmonious in nature. As soon as the coat (marriage) is removed, the two halves lose their energy. The seeds cannot germinate, and the husband and wife cannot successfully fulfil their familial and social responsibilities.

Some people mistakenly understand marriage only as a means to fulfil two people’s sexual desires. Not only for humans, but for all organisms, the four main inspirations for life have been described as—food, sleep, fear, and sex. Even out of these four, in the beginning, sexual intercourse has been understood to be primary. A human, being a thoughtful organism, also tries to control his desires. In the early stages of our culture’s development itself, the saints established the concept of marriage after considering the needs of the individual, the family, the society, and the nation. To avoid many kinds of irregularities in the society, it was deemed useful to have a man and a woman tie the knot to live a family life, where children would be born, would be raised and given values, where elders would also be safe and cared for. Where the saints and the wise men would be welcomed.

At the time of my wedding, neither had I contemplated on the above-mentioned points, nor understood the meaning of the chants we were made to recite by the priest. After the wedding, as we moved forward day by day on our conjugal journey, I realized that a marriage is not just for entertainment. Also realized that at every step you will face either sunshine or darkness. Without much thought, our dedication to each other kept growing. The resolve and practice to live for each other also grew. I realized that it was easy to walk independently on two feet, but I had to gather the strength and wisdom to walk on four feet.

There was no time either to waste uselessly on trying to understand each other. We were moving fast on our familial-societal journey. There was no time to breathe. We needed fuel to continue the journey. And the fuel kept coming from our love, devotion, and sacrifice for each other, and by walking together every step of the way.

One day I reflected on myself, and realized that I had not just connected with one person, rather I had developed a greater affection for people other than my husband—my in-laws, well-wishers, relatives, and household help. I had learnt to live a little for each one of them. There had been no agreement on this with my husband either before our wedding or on the altar. How did this happen? The knot was tied only with my husband, wasn’t it?

But I went on belonging to everyone, to my family, even to society. I belonged to them, and they belonged to me. Out of the folksongs of Mithilanchal, one stands out. The bride says to her brother on the wedding night, “Brother, I will not go to the marital suite. Paraputra (stranger’s son, her husband) has said mean words to me.”

The brother teaches her, “The one you are calling a stranger’s son, dear sister, will become your life one day. You and him will become one.” These lessons imparted to a daughter by way of folksongs were, in fact, a translation of the marriage instructions written in the shastras (scriptures).

There was a committee formed in Delhi in 1977 to resolve marital disputes. I was a member too. Many kinds of marital disputes used to be presented. The committee would make efforts to solve the fights between the husbands and wives. To make sure our suggestions for the two of them to live happily would be grasped by them. And this used to happen too. The committee members would feel satisfied.

One day a young woman came. Without waiting for us to ask a question, she started saying, “Aunty, please help me get a divorce. The earlier the better. I cannot live any more with that man. I have understood him very well.”

We were astonished to see her age. She seemed very young. I asked her, “How long have you been married?” She replied instantly, “It has been three months, aunty. I know him fully well now. Please suggest a way for us to get separated. I cannot live with him.”

My mind deviated from thinking about her to my own husband. We had been married for 45 years. I had certainly not been able to understand my husband. Now it has been 60 years. Not even now. Is it that easy to understand a human being? A person changes moment by moment. It has been said about a woman, “now she is upset, now she is happy; her mood changes every minute.” And this upsetting-cajoling has an impact on the length of a marriage too.

Out of all the weddings that take place on this earth every year, most of them seem to have people who live for each other.

Upon completing 60 years of marriage, I thought I would look back once to see on which bends of life, we became one, and why. Was it when the priest was making us recite the wedding chants, or while taking seven rounds of the holy fire with one end of my saree tied in a knot with his scarf, or while exchanging vows on the wedding pavilion? No, our hearts did not unite then. Whether it was sunshine or darkness in our lives, we kept living together while each one pulled the knot toward oneself, wanting to pull the other person towards ourselves and make them adapt to our values. In a short time, the knot became so strong that it could not be undone with our hands or teeth. Most couples stay together their whole lives. Either by being each-other’s or even by walking together shoulder to shoulder.

There was a grandmother in my neighborhood. While the grandfather adorned the front porch of the house, grandma was the beauty of the inside courtyard. They did not talk to each other. Every day they would necessarily fight at least once for one reason or another. The household’s twenty or so members never paid attention to their fights. When one or two daughters-in-law went to serve grandpa his meals, grandma would follow them. She would make sure the plate that was being served to grandpa included foods to his liking. Grandpa would eat his meals on the front porch, and grandma would watch him affectionately from behind the curtain on the front door. In fact, soon after their wedding, she assumed the role of her husband’s mother. This is seen in all meaningful and successful marriages.

It is hard to say what influenced our 60 years of walking enthusiastically together in our marital journey—the behavior seen in our grandparents, the young woman who had been married for three months, or the hundreds or thousands of couples we met along our journey from dusty streets to polished roads. Most couples, while walking together in the marital journey, become one at some point, somehow. We, too, became one with each other. Not just our joys and sorrows, jokes and laughter, friends and enemies, even the purpose of our lives became united.

Life was not always rosy, there were certainly ups and downs. We made an effort to remain equanimous in all situations. This is a short story of a marriage of 60 years. It can be called a true story. But it is not complete. It is certainly not possible to describe every moment. Whatever I could write down on paper is dedicated to you, the young generation.

The journey continues.

-Mridula Sinha

Translated by Meenakshi Sinha

[‘Daampatya ki Dhoop-Chhaah’ is jointly written by Late Smt Mridula Sinha (Founder, The Fifth Pillar and former Governor of Goa) and her husband Late Dr. Ram Kripal Sinha (former Union Minister). Dedicated to their parents, this is story of their marriage, their life.

The book was published in 2019 on the completion of their 60 years of married life together. Their daughter Meenakshi Sinha translates the book chapter by chapter. Here we are sharing first of the many chapters from the book]