My Big Fat Ritvik Marriage
BY: SHASTRA CHAKSUS DAS
Mar 26, 2014 — USA (SUN) — Well, by now I was becoming heavily involved with the Ritviks at Ritvik Land. Besides that—after the heavy dose of enlightenment about The Ritvik Way that the Swami had handed me, I knew it was my destiny to stick around. I also found the nice brahmacharini who had greeted me at the door quite attractive.
And so it was that I arranged for a Ritvik marriage ceremony. Putting two and two together, and carefully considering all that I had learned from the Ritvik Maharaja, there seemed to be a certain protocol in marriage that was unlike anything I have ever encountered. After all, Ritvikism means becoming a disciple of someone who does not know you from Adam. So it made perfect sense that Ritvik marriage should be no different.
Soon the Sunday Feast was upon us, and I was about to get married. First the preparations were served. There was a Ritvik who was directly initiated by Lord Jagannath and he is served 108 preparations 54 times a day. And another who is a disciple of Raghunatha das Goswami, who is served only a tablespoon of buttermilk. Me, as a Ritvik disciple of an ex-GBC, I was served all the leftovers of the other Ritviks. Anyway, after the feast my sacred vows of the vivaha-yagna began.
The way it was arranged was that I was the only person sitting beside the fire, other than the priest. Just as in Ritvik initiation the guru does not know that you have become his disciple, similarly Ritvik marriage means that the wife does not know that she is getting married. So after the marriage ceremony, my new bride Ritvik-lila devi dasi congratulated me and asked, "So who is your lucky wife?" "You are!" I declared.
By her response, I found out that she is not really much surrendered to the Ritvik Way. She said in her thick Brooklyn accent, "When hell freezes over." "Well, you're being unsubmissive," I informed her, reminding her of a wife's sacred duties to her husband. I even read to her the chapter from the GBC marriage handbook entitled "Wife's Obedience: Chores Chastisement." But trying to preach to her was of no use; she muttered "Your mother wears Army boots, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. So there I was, a broken-hearted Ritvik beside the fading embers of the fire. But the bright side of all this is that—at least from a Ritvik point of view—our relationship is perfect, since Ritvikism is based upon non-relationships anyway.
Nonetheless, in moments of private contemplation I still find myself wondering: How I will ever hear the pitter-patter of little Ritvik feet?!
