Let me begin with a confession. I have always loved the idea of marriage. What is one to do when one\u2019s politics are so at odds with one\u2019s pleasure! But then politics and pleasure are not always so distinct. And so, after having seriously contemplated a career in wedding choreography (yes it\u2019s a thing!) and wedding video making, here I am, still fantasizing and watching everything about marriages and weddings from the side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was for my generation of movie-goers that marriage was rediscovered on the silver screen as the bastion of the great Indian joint family (and friends). In 1994, Hum Aapke Hain Kaun<\/a> (HAHK) turned all North Indian upper class, upper caste weddings into a string of endless, and unbearable \u201cfamily performances\u201d. Which brings me to my second confession, I loved the film when it released and wished all marriages would be just like that. The film quickly became the north Indian wedding template, however, serving as a warning to always be careful in my wishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What fascinates me about marriage is not the obvious romance of the ever after, but the hidden pleasure of the here and now. The romance of Hum Aapke Hain Kaun<\/a> wasn\u2019t between the Bride and the Groom, who like \u201cRam Ji\u201d were pious, ideal and sexless. The story belonged to didi ka dewar<\/em> (sister\u2019s brother in law) and dulhe ki saali <\/em>(Groom\u2019s sister in law), and the accompanying nok jhonk<\/em> (dalliance\/ flirtation) between the uncles and aunts, among the domestic help (one must always carefully maintain caste and class lines in side stories) and flirtation between the samdhi<\/em> and samdhan<\/em> which was curiously suggestive. An overt celebration of love relationships, and the covert sanctioning of sexuality are part of not just marriage as a social system, but also as a community event. But even before Tuffy saved the day in a great shift from Ram ji to Krishna[1]<\/a> at the end of the film, marriage has been about the ras<\/em> (pleasure), raas<\/em> (amour) and risqu\u00e9. And nowhere is the expression of pleasure, desire and sexuality celebrated more than in women\u2019s songs that accompany celebrations, particularly those of marriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Munni Ketki Wali is a gifted singer with just such a repertoire of songs who I discovered thanks to hours of YouTube surfing and the good folks at TARSHI. There is almost no information about her life and work online, except in some YouTube comments under her songs. With albums released in the 70s, 80s and 90s, she combines the musical style of the sixties with Bhojpuri tunes, offering a wide selection of folk, film inspired songs as well as pop. More recent blatantly sexual video accompaniments to her music pale in comparison to the pictures of Munni, clear eyes, confident gaze, looking directly at her audience, on the covers of her albums that feature in the videos of many of her songs on YouTube. [here I suggest inserting her picture] She sings of her Samdhan\u2019s<\/em> sexual escapades and desires with taunts, jest and perhaps jealousy. Innocuous, mundane and often playful melodies combine with lyrics rife with witty innuendo and bawdy humour. Ketki Wali\u2019s songs reveal what Hum Aapke Hain Kaun<\/em> had to conceal and sanitize. And so, having found my politics and my pleasure all in one place, I urge the popularization of Munni\u2019s music as a way of revealing marriage as a community celebration of sexuality. A flamboyant march where people wear their sexuality on their sleeve and come out in a loud display of desire to take over public space. Almost like a jagrata<\/em> (a Hindu ritual, consisting of all-night vigil, songs and dance in honour of a deity), or a pride march perhaps. Well, almost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A woman who sings of desire and not duty, may well be banned by the censors. It seems obvious, not just in light of the current fetish for bans, but historically, whether women reveal the hearts in their choli<\/a> or enjoy being called sexy<\/a>[2]<\/a>. As Shohini Ghosh pointed out in her writing[3]<\/a> on the song Choli Ke Peechey from Khalnayak, it is women\u2019s assertions of sexuality and not violence against women that invites censure and ire from the custodians of tradition and culture. Munni Ketki Wali\u2019s wedding songs are replete with women singing sexually to each other, and expressing their desires and narratives in a way that has always been dangerous for patriarchy. Even as one is aware of a larger patriarchal context of cultural production, faced with little information about the production of these songs, one must rely on hope and fantasy. And so here is a Sexy Samdhan<\/em> Songs collection that brings together community rituals, popular culture and the dailiness of desire and sexuality in our lives\u2026 if only we choose to see it! #ShaadiMubaarak<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chana Jor Garam<\/em>\n