Khander Diaries

I have been living in Jammu for the past few months and have had the opportunity to participate in multiple marriage ceremonies. It was a nostalgic experience, almost reintroducing me to our rich traditions, customs, and above all, food that are unique to us Kashmiri Pandits. 

My demanding professional life often kept me away from the joys of social gatherings. As a result, I attended very few weddings, and only when they involved immediate family members. Even then, my visits would be brief and hurried, leaving me little time to enjoy the pre and post Khander festivities.

But now it felt as though I was instinctively compensating for all the experiences I had missed in the past three decades. I made a point of attending nearly every Khander Saal invitation that came my way. The only exceptions were those rare occasions when two Saals coincided on the same date, creating a delightful dilemma from which I had to choose. 

Believe me, in the past months, I’ve been to weddings where I was formally introduced to the hosts only on the day of the Saal itself. Well, anything for Rogan Josh and Mach.

As the initial excitement began to settle and I had enjoyed enough Rogan Josh and Mach, I found myself contemplating the gradual yet significant changes that have crept into our marriages over these three decades.

Disclaimer: I’m just sharing experiences and observations, no judgment here!

While the core of Maenzraat, Devgon, and Lagen remains the same, a few tweaks have been made here and there.

Maenzraat has now transformed into an official cocktail party, a far cry from its earlier days. I remember our childhood vividly when the elders would seek their excitement in sharing a drink or two. Meanwhile, we, the eager children, would stand watch just outside THAT room, our hearts racing with the thrill of the forbidden. Our job was to keep an eye out for any approaching elders (their elders) and, if anyone appeared nearby, signal them with a subtle gesture. However, I recently attended a few weddings where it was properly served, and there were counters with bartenders, et al.

Devgon has been clubbed, or rather adorned, with vibrant Haldi. And one has to wear yellow, gold, green, and a few other colours, which are permissible on that day. So if you are attending a Devgon, keep these colours handy.

The traditional practice of Gharachun has waned in significance, possibly because marriages now extend beyond the Kashmiri community. (I don’t like to use the label ‘intercaste’. The sooner we smell the coffee, the better). As a result, the practice of Lagen has also evolved, becoming more representative of the specific community into which one is marrying.

Alright, let’s now talk about the changes to the peripherals.

Previously, guests coming from outside would stay at the host’s or a close relative’s home, and neighbours would also have to accommodate a few guests. Our home has hosted guests from nearly all the neighbours, but now it has become mandatory to book accommodations for visiting guests. Hotels are booked for all guests coming from outside to ensure their comfort is well taken care of.

Another notable shift has occurred in how invitations are distributed to family and friends. In the past, it was customary to visit each relative in person to avoid the dreaded H word- Hatakh. However, given the current challenges of distance and spread, more convenient methods are now socially acceptable. Today, phone calls and e-cards are widely embraced as valid alternatives for extending invitations.

Hold on—this doesn’t imply that the situation applies universally to everyone. The “H” word is still relevant for certain relations and circumstances. While it holds for approximately 90% of cases, there remains a notable 10% of sensitive relationships that require a personal touch, and you will need to go in person, no matter where they are.

And then, finally, the icing on the cake –  Destination weddings.

Yes, I attended one, my first, and it was nothing short of a carnival of three days, along with all the Khander festivities. It was such an incredibly enjoyable experience that I could easily write an entire article to capture its essence. I also found myself doing something I had never imagined I would: I danced. For years, I had believed I was born with two left feet, but everything changed when I arrived in Lonavala. Amidst the joyful chaos, the bride’s maternal uncles and aunts were expected to showcase their dance moves, and to my dismay, I found myself unceremoniously swept into the group. So all of us, a burly bunch of cousins pushing past the half-century mark, were made to dance, and we even had a choreographer assigned to teach us the moves. She was the bride’s bhabhi, and the poor girl masked her exasperation with a sweet smile as she witnessed the hilarity unfold, which we all called dancing . But soon our clumsiness faded into the background as the sheer joy of the moment took over, enveloping us in fun and laughter.

Overall, the last three months have revealed new and different shades of Kashmiri marriages, and I am not done yet, as my calendar brims with a series of Khander Saals stretching all the way to April.

Watch this space—exciting updates might be on the way!