On the Indian system of Marriage

The other day, I chanced to hear a conversation on train. Some one's daughter is getting married. Listened a while, to the hassles of the parent as he ran about arranging the wedding. Printing of the cards, Invitation to the gods, Invitation to the guests, the gold, the caterers, the dresses... The Indian couple enjoys a ceremony, as centre pieces in a group activity of relatives/siblings/parents/friends/foes, called the Indian wedding. As the conversation rambled,I waited for the inevitable question from the apparent buddy of the father of the bride, also on the mind of the shameless eavesdroppers seated around: "What are you giving her?"

Though the dowry system is illegal in the country/state, it is highly prevalent in the various strata of the society in the classic form, and also in the most exalted form, in upper and middle strata of the society, as jewels, cash, realty. The state strives to abolish the custom, but as age old customs go... they generally do not vanish without a fight, as Indian wedding without gold is not yet imaginable. The custom varies across India, in some parts, esp. on some islands of Lakshadeep, it is the groom who pays for the bride. The custom is not native to the subcontinent alone; as Polynesia, Africa also practice varied form of the custom. So here I stand, not to condone or condemn... but as a impartial observer of a culture.

Kerala, prides in atleast 90% literacy and as the education is the responsibility of the parent till he/she is employed, as also the marriage of a child especially the daughter; I, as a management professor, has a chance to observe the future brides of the upper class and middle class society in my classroom. Most of them have excellent lineage and pedigree and enterprising parents to school them into the most advantageous position in life. Quiet a few are pleasing to the eye and are quite intelligent enough to garner top marks from the institution.

These young ladies may not work for a living, their sole objective may be to provide the most advantageous and best support for their spouse, in matters of business and home. Her mate is chosen carefully in terms of his horoscope/star, lineage, caste compatibility, and of course employability. The parents make sure to provide the provisions and the financial safety net to launch their life in the style they have grown used to. They get the best footing in a competitive world. Would there be any other subtle reason that the affluent father of the bride consciously condone the practice, in a minor strain imitating the concept of Johnny Lingo's eight cow wife?

Ah, Johnny Lingo's eight cow wife... The story came in Reader’s Digest (February, 1988). The original work was copyrighted by Patricia McGerr in 1965. I googled to make sure that it was not a figment of imagination. So, Here is the condensed version.

The author heard about him on a trip to the Kiniwata Island in the Pacific. Johnny Lingo was known throughout the islands for his skills, intelligence, and savvy. If you hire him as a guide, he would show the best fishing spots and the best pearls. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet, when they spoke of him, they always smile just a little mockingly.

"Oh, the people like to laugh," the manager of the hotel said, shrugging. "Johnny’s the brightest and strongest young man in the islands. He’s also the richest for his age."
"But …" the author protested. "… if he’s all you say he is, why does everyone laugh at him behind his back?"
"Well, there is one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He gave her father eight cows!"
The author knew enough about island customs to be impressed. A dowry of two or three cows would net a fair wife and four or five cows would net a very nice wife.
"Wow!", "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away."
"She’s not ugly, …" he conceded with a little smile, "… but calling her ‘plain’ would definitely be a compliment. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid he would n’t be able to marry her off. Instead of being stuck with her, he got eight cows for her. Isn’t that extraordinary? This price has never been paid before."
"Yet, you called Johnny’s wife ‘plain?’ "
"I said it would be a compliment to call her plain. She was skinny and she walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow."

"But how?"
"No one knows and everyone wonders. They get special satisfaction from the fact the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo. All of the cousins urged Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny would pay only one. To their surprise Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer you, eight cows for your daughter.’ "

So Driven out of curiosity, the author sought Johnny Lingo.

"They speak of me on that island?" Asked Johnny Lingo
"Yes. They say you can provide me anything I need. They say you’re intelligent, resourceful, and the sharpest trader in the islands."
He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata."

"What do they say?"
"Why, just … ." The question caught her off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time."
"Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told her he knew there had to be more.
"They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." the author paused. "They wonder why."
"And in Nurabandi, everyone knows it too?" His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."
So that’s the answer: Vanity.

Just then a woman entered the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still for a moment to smile at her husband and then left. She was the most beautiful woman the author have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, and the sparkle in her eyes all spelled self-confidence and pride. Not an arrogant and haughty pride, but a confident inner beauty that radiated in her every movement.

"You admire her?" he murmured.
"She … she’s gorgeous." said the author. "Obviously, this is not the one everyone is talking about. She can’t be the Sarita you married on Kiniwata."

"There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps, she doesn’t look the way you expected."
"She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo."
"You think eight cows was too many?" A smile slid over his lips.
"No, but how can she be so different from the way they described her?"
Johnny said, "Think about how she must feel when the other women boast about the high prices their husbands paid for them. It must be embarrassing for her. I would not let this happen to my Sarita."
"So, you paid eight cows just to make your wife happy?"
"Well, of course I wanted Sarita to be happy, but there’s more to it than that. Many things can change a woman. However, the thing that matters most is how she views herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. As a result, that’s the value she projected. Now, she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands. It shows, doesn’t it?"
"Then you wanted …"
"I wanted to marry Sarita. She is the only woman I love."
"But …" The author was close to understanding.
"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

Re-Evaluating Processes

For Want of a Tag String

The Indian Government introduced the e-filing of Income-tax Returns a while ago. The news brought back some memories of serpentine queues and most importantly the tag string. Those who were new to IT filing brought their Saral and declaration copies, waited patiently in lines till it reached the counter to find the clerk refusing to accept stapled documents. Terms of filing states that the clerk will not accept the documents unless tied with a tag string through the hole at the left corner of the documents. It must have taken bleeding official fingers, torn documents and the simplicity of doing away the tag with scissors for the rule to be a rule. The desperate hunt for the coveted tag string ensues and propagates through the line, while the veterans smile with wicked glee and push past the bent treasure hunters, scouring the floor for any discarded length of wool strong enough to meet the requirement, to file their return and go on with their other business. The outcome: These beginners will not forget the tag next year. More like the concept: To remember your anniversary, just forget it once.

It starts me off, to muse if there are any seemingly silly processes that are waiting to be replaced. These procedures must have come for a reason in a past and became quietly obsolete without being noticed. Very much like this story that I narrated in my management classes recently, to illustrate Need of re-evaluating processes.

A study was conducted on monkeys to study group behavior with regard to long term memories. A group of monkeys were introduced to a room where a big bunch of ripe bananas was hung right above a ladder for easy access. Monkeys being monkeys, raced for the ladder. Woe! The system was programmed to shower a jet of ice cold water on the group as soon as the ladder was touched. Bedlam! Shrieks of outrage were voiced by the group on numerous failed attempts. It was observed that all permutation and combinations, taking into account factors relating to understandable dimensions of the banana, ladder, the time and the days, were tried out diligently, with utmost cunning; only to be showered by icy water. Fed up by the shower treatment, the monkeys took to beating the perpetuator who attempted to touch the ladder. A Month passed; the bananas always looked inviting, being changed to retain its freshness. Lesson learned: The monkeys ignored the tempting feast and contented with their daily rations. It was decided to take the study further and replace the members of the group one by one at intervals. The new monkey, as usual, raced to the ladder, promptly got beaten up and at times drenched, wherein the punishment was more brutal. The new member usually retreats to a corner and participates in the punishment custom with vigor when another monkey arrives. Gradually the group was replaced and the bananas remained untouched. The group was again replaced, with the accompaniment of beatings on each introduction. After much iteration, the shower was turned off and the bananas continued to remain above the ladder untouched, amidst a group of primates who has learned to beat up any member who touches the ladder, for reasons unknown. Not sure whether the study reached its desired conclusion or waited for a smart monkey to ponder: "Why a waste of delicious fruit?" and brave the gauntlet, with maybe a new technique and change the system forever.