Zhangjiajie Folk Custom: Tujia Bridal Lament—Joy and Sorrow of Tujia Girls
A girl's marriage is the greatest joy in a woman's life and should be filled with happiness and celebration. Yet in old times, across western Hunan, southern Hunan, western Hubei, western Sichuan (Chengdu and nearby), and eastern Guizhou (Tongren, Kaili areas), an ancient wedding custom of entirely opposite mood prevailed—'bridal lament.' That is, before the girl leaves her parents' home...
This article has been compiled from historical materials on 'Zhangjiajie Tour Guide Network' (33519.com · Specialty Foods / Cuisine / Customs section). Prices, business hours, administrative divisions, and statistical data mentioned in the text may already be outdated. Before traveling, please refer to the latest announcements from merchants, scenic areas, and local competent authorities; the parts involving folk legends and folk customs are local historical and cultural anecdotes, provided for cultural reference.
Introduction to Crying Marriage
A girl's marriage is the greatest happy event in a woman's life and should be filled with an atmosphere of happiness and joy. However, in old times in western Hunan, southern Hunan, western Hubei, western Sichuan (Chengdu and other places), and eastern Guizhou (the Tongren and Kaili areas), there prevailed an ancient marriage custom with a completely opposite mood, "crying marriage." That is, before the girl "leaves the boudoir," not only does the bride herself cry very sadly, like a person made of tears; moreover, the bride's mother, sisters, paternal aunts, maternal aunts, aunts by marriage, and other close female friends all have to cry along with the bride. The custom of crying marriage among the Tujia of western Hunan is especially widespread and strong. Not only is the crying-marriage period relatively long (at least about ten days, and as much as a month or so), but the crying-marriage songs are also preserved in a simple and complete way.
Why must a girl cry when she marries? How can there be so much to cry about? This is a life ritual custom containing very rich implications, and also a marriage custom phenomenon full of interest.
As the saying goes, "People do not shed tears unless their hearts are sad." The reason a girl cries when she marries is that under the old marriage system, girls (especially girls from poor laboring families) were always thrown (sold) to the husband's family as sacrifices, and their bodies and minds suffered tremendous harm. Therefore, girls in western Hunan and other places had to weep and wail before marriage, and the crying-marriage songs were the best way to vent their feelings.
The Origin of Crying Marriage
It is not known when the custom of crying marriage originated. During the Warring States period, when the princess of Zhao married into Yan to become queen, her mother, Empress Dowager Zhao, at parting "held her heel and wept for her, saying, 'You must never be sent back.'" This is probably the beginning of the later long-lasting custom of crying marriage.
This custom was still prevalent in rural Sichuan until the late Qing Dynasty, varying slightly from place to place. Before Liberation, the old people said that in earlier times, there was no family whose daughter married without crying. If a girl married without crying, she would also be regarded by the neighbors as ill-bred and become a laughingstock. It is said that there was a case in which a marrying girl did not cry and was beaten and scolded by her mother; this mother could certainly be considered a director of some standing.
In old storytelling, there is a plot in which, when the bridal sedan chair arrives at the door, the father forcibly orders her to cry the "Song of Cursing the Matchmaker in the Wind." From this it can be known that crying marriage had lyrics and carried a performative nature. It was originally used to heighten the atmosphere, using sorrow to set off joy; however, because marriage was arranged, there was certainly no lack of genuine crying and genuine cursing.
In the later period of the Anti-Japanese War, social customs became more open, and the practice of crying marriage was no longer prevalent. However, the elderly still talked about it with great relish. The way of crying was that, starting from the first day of the month before the wedding date, at dusk, the girl would cry for about an hour, with a sobbing sound. Ten days later, her mother joined in the 'accompanying crying'; another ten days later, her grandmother joined in the accompanying crying. If the family had aunts and sisters, people said they should also join the accompanying crying.
In western Sichuan, the custom of weeping at marriage was called "zuotang" (sitting in the hall). Ji Daoren of the Qing Dynasty wrote in his Random Notes from the Weizhe Studio: On Zuotang: "The rites of marriage differ in custom from province to province. Yet when measured by propriety and weighed by sentiment, they are largely the same everywhere. When the groom's family takes a wife, the poem they first present is called 'cui zhuang' (urging the toilette); when the bride's family and close kin sing praises of the daughter, it is called 'zuotang.' Zuotang means that when the wedding day draws near, several evenings beforehand, the girl's aunts and elder sisters set out wine to give her a farewell feast, each reciting auspicious phrases in praise, while the girl expresses her own feelings in reply. Beside the girl there are also younger girls who follow along and practice the art. Their words are mostly rustic, yet some have a plaintive melody and a vigorous style, like ancient songs and ballads. Magistrate Cai of Luojiang, traveling incognito through the countryside, came one day to a certain place just as a girl was being married. Her sisters-in-law all praised her with flattering words, and the girl replied expressing her feelings. Suddenly the wind blew a line into his ear: 'The phoenix alights on the table, which daughter is willing to leave her mother?' Each word turned with a plaintive note—who says the music of heaven does not dwell in simple folk!" And so on. Ji Daoren was surnamed Zhou, named Jitang, a native of Chengdu. Ji Daoren remembered it clearly, but unfortunately he recorded only one line of a weeping-marriage song, so we cannot see the whole. Fortunately, among old popular woodblock editions there is a work titled Admonitions for Daughters: Weeping at Marriage, which gives us a glimpse. The table of contents of this little book includes 'Weeping in the Boudoir,' 'Mother Admonishes Daughter,' 'Sister-in-law Weeps for Sister-in-law,' 'Weeping for Father and Mother,' 'Weeping for Brothers and Sisters-in-law,' 'Weeping When the Bridal Sedan Reaches the House,' 'Weeping for Uncles,' 'Weeping for Brothers,' 'Weeping for Maternal Grandparents,' 'Weeping for Maternal Uncles,' 'Weeping at Worship of the Ancestral Shrine,' and so on. The arrangement is somewhat disordered, as if recorded at random and never touched by a literatus's hand. One imagines that the fifteen Airs of the Book of Songs, before they were edited, must have been much like this!
Weeping in the Boudoir
Mother hears the birds and sparrows startle in the garden, and wants to hear her daughter's voice within the room.
My mother stands at the gate like bitter kudzu vine, hands clutching the bitter kudzu, pouring out her bitter sorrow.
My mother's bitter sorrow is already past; her daughter's bitter sorrow has only just taken root.
The orange tree blooms and its leaves are green; the cuckoo calls out and I call out.
A newly made brass basin has just been filled with water; newly made scissors are green on both sides.
If mother does not speak, I will speak; if mother does not raise her voice, I will raise mine.
At the gate stands a wood lotus tree, and on the Mulian tree hangs a scroll of sutras.
I have recited the whole sutra through, and still I have not seen my mother raise her voice.
How hard it is that my mother sleeps so soundly; father and mother's tears are as precious as gold.
Weeping for Father and Mother
The crescent moon shines on the splendid hall; the daughter opens her mouth to call father and mother.
Father and mother raised a child in vain, like a dream of the southern bough.
From one foot five inches you raised me, moving me from the dry to the wet—bitter beyond measure.
All your toil of heart and strength comes to nothing; father and mother have suffered all in vain.
Weeping for Brothers
A black-lacquered tea tray of dark wood; elder sister leaves her mother, and younger brother does not hold her back.
If you stayed, sister, you would eat your fill of your brother's rice; if you stayed, sister, you would wear your brother's clothes.
Brother manages the household and busies himself earning for the family; once sister is married off, he will buy land.
Up above he will buy all the way to Tongchuan Prefecture; down below he will buy all the way to Suining Township.
The songs recorded in this book are from northern Sichuan; those I have seen before are from southern Sichuan; what Ji Daoren recorded is from western Sichuan. In eastern Sichuan, they are probably not very different. What is regrettable is that although this book's weeping-marriage songs include lines such as 'I only blame the matchmaker for having no conscience,' it does not list a special section on 'cursing the matchmaker'—probably because they feared the matchmaker would be too embarrassed!
In fact, cursing the matchmaker is an indispensable item in weeping at marriage, and also the weeping-marriage lyric with the strongest color of resistance. In the old society, women had no freedom of marriage to speak of. Bound by the 'three obediences and four virtues,' ordinarily they could hardly say a word about their own lifelong affairs, which were entirely manipulated by matchmakers and parents. Therefore, this 'cursing the matchmaker' before mounting the bridal sedan was a rare opportunity for release. This has long been reflected in opera and folk storytelling and other arts.
Formerly, the Sichuan opera The Tale of the Willow Shade had a scene called 'Yingtai Curses the Matchmaker.' Yingtai curses the matchmaker in fierce words and with stern countenance, fully displaying Zhu Yingtai's staunch character and anti-feudal spirit. She curses: 'Matchmaker, how I hate her more—her mouth chatters with wild talk. I only wish her house would burn to ashes, her fields and gardens be washed to sand by water.' But this scene has now been cut. It still existed in the fifties and sixties; the Sichuan opera The Tale of the Willow Shade performed at the First National Opera Festival also had this scene, with Chen Shufang playing Zhu Yingtai, and it won first prize. City people today probably think there is no need to curse the matchmaker anymore, but in remote areas the matchmaker seems still to run rampant. Yet it is said that matchmakers were never afraid of being cursed; on the contrary, they feared that you would not curse them. If you did not curse, their 'mei' (matchmaking) luck could not be shaken off. This, too, is a kind of humor in folk customs!
Among the people of the Three Gorges, especially in the customs of the Ba people (the Tujia), weeping at marriage is undoubtedly the most distinctive wedding ritual.
The bride begins weeping half a month before the wedding and keeps weeping until she mounts the sedan. The custom of weeping at marriage is connected with the ancient marriage system. In the past the Tujia had several unreasonable marriage customs: first, 'the daughter of any paternal aunt must marry the son of the maternal uncle's family,' called 'joining the bone'; second, no matter whose daughter she was, as long as a man took a fancy to her, he could buy a string of firecrackers and set them off at her door to betroth her, and no one on the bride's side could object. If a girl was simultaneously taken with by several men who all held the firecracker betrothal ceremony, the men might even beat down their rivals to win the marriage, and of course this sometimes endangered the bride's safety; third, bride-stealing; fourth, most marriages in the past were by 'the command of parents and the words of matchmakers,' and the bride, knowing nothing of the groom or his family, was full of anxiety about her future life. Under such a marriage system, a woman's marriage was usually unhappy, so weeping became inevitable.
The process of weeping at marriage begins with the bride-to-be weeping alone. On the night before the wedding, her close girlfriends and sisters from near and distant kin gather in one room, sit around, and weep in turn. The content of the weeping gradually evolved into tunes with fixed modes and rhythms, becoming 'weeping-marriage songs.' Moreover, the Tujia regarded whether a girl could sing weeping-marriage songs as a mark of her intelligence and virtue. The bride had to sing one for every family member, and even when meeting strangers she had to sing; for everything she did, she had to sing.
The content of weeping-marriage songs generally tells of parents' grace in raising one, the deep affection and sorrow of parting from brothers and sisters, or expresses one's worries about future life, and so on.
In one song bidding farewell to her mother, she sings: 'My mother, oh my mother, you prepared a dowry for your daughter, rushing to market three times in ten days, nine times in a month; the main road is worn into a groove, the small road is trodden to fuzz. When the chickens had just crowed, mother was walking on the road; when the sparrows had entered the woods, mother was still on the way; when the magpies had settled in their nests, mother was still groping along the road. So many reds and greens, so many great bundles, somehow scraped together and prepared. My mother, oh my mother, the chive blooms with nine leaves; my mother carried me ten months. Ten months of pregnancy, suffering hardship. When ten months were full and the birth came, my mother was beside herself, her mouth clenched so hard she could bite an iron nail in two, her feet stamped so hard they broke through the ground. When she woke and looked at the child's body, it was a girl, not a boy, and mother's heart ached. Mother's goodness is thousands upon thousands; ten days and half a month could not count it all.'
Another example is a weeping-marriage song circulated in Sansheng Township, Jiangbei District, Chongqing: 'Short-lived trumpeter, heaven-curtailing gong, you press me until my heart is torn and my mind in chaos, and there is nothing I can do! My father, oh my mother, I grew up at your breast and feet, costing you both endless bitter heart's blood. A thousand kinds of grace I have not repaid, ten thousand drops of sweet dew I have not answered. Tomorrow I must leave you, and I do not know what that family is like; to whom can I express my innermost words? My father, oh my mother, I would rather serve you both than marry.'
Weeping-marriage songs are plain and natural, with deep and genuine feeling, bearing obvious Three Gorges characteristics, and are also an expression of the honest and generous folk ways of the Three Gorges. For example, in a weeping-marriage song bidding farewell to elder brother and sister-in-law, she sings: 'My brother, oh my sister-in-law, one orange has twelve segments; brother, sister-in-law, and sister must scatter. One bamboo has twelve joints; at every New Year and festival you must come to fetch me. One egg whose yolk is not broken; your sisters' days will be long. One water vat with three hoops; you and I, sisters, must not grow distant.'
Besides the bride-to-be weeping, parents, brothers and sisters, and close friends and relatives also sing in reply. In one song a mother sings in reply: 'You are grown and must marry; mother gives a few words of advice: First, be filial to your parents-in-law; second, respect your husband; third, be harmonious with your sisters-in-law; fourth, be careful and virtuous—tea and rice must be evenly served, fire and candles must be watched with care, stir-fried dishes must be clean; fifth, rise early, sweep the floor before the hall; when honored guests come to the house, offer tobacco and tea; sixth, learn tailoring, so you need not beg others in inconvenience; never be greedy for play, for if you are poor later, on whom will you rely?' The lyrics are simply the mother's bit-by-bit exhortations and instructions before her daughter sets out.
There are also songs sung in reply by close friends: 'Sister dear, sisters dear, pick a pomegranate and split it evenly; open the pomegranate and it has twelve cells, separated by three or four but not separated in heart.'
The custom of weeping at marriage has now disappeared in most places, and can still be seen only in places where Tujia people live, such as Xiangxi, Zhangjiajie, Qianjiang, Shizhu, and Xiushan in Chongqing, and Badong and Changyang in Hubei.
Appreciation of Weeping-at-Marriage Excerpts
The Tujia living in Zhangjiajie in Xiangxi, Hunan, are one of the ethnic groups that have preserved the custom of weeping at marriage most completely. If you go to gather folk songs at a Tujia stilted wooden house, Tujia women will certainly sing for you, in low, gentle, sorrowful tones, the weeping-marriage songs they remember. Hearing their soul-stirring singing, you will be unable to hold back your feelings and will shed tears of sympathy. In this way many weeping-marriage songs have been handed down.
I. Opening Words of a Tujia Weeping-Marriage Song:
They say the neighbor's family is marrying off a daughter
Inviting companions to come and discuss
In threes and fives, sitting together in a circle
You cry your part, and I'll cry mine.
2. Songs of Crying Like a Daughter Crying to Her Parents: In fact, the married daughter does not understand her parents' feelings; she pours out all her grievances onto her parents, complaining that they should not have married her off.
My hair has not yet taken root
My teeth have not yet grown in evenly
I know neither how to twist hemp nor spin thread
I cannot carry firewood or fetch water
Yet you cruelly pushed me out the door,
To be a daughter-in-law is to suffer alive
What I cannot carry, I still must carry
What I cannot do, I still must do.
My shoulders are swollen from the weight
Yet I still cannot satisfy them.
My ten fingers are worn raw
Yet I still cannot please them.
How can I live such a life?
Had I known this day would come
When I was just born
Why didn't you drown me in the mud pond?
Had I known this day would come
When I was just born
Why didn't you throw me onto the rocky bank?
Thrown into the mud pond
At least a bubble would rise
Thrown beneath the rocky bank
At least a clump of grass would grow.
3. Songs Cursing the Matchmaker: In the eyes of Tujia girls, the matchmaker is a petty schemer who stirs up gossip and pursues selfish gain. So during the crying-marriage, they always give the matchmaker a good scolding. It is as if the matchmaker were the sole director of this marital tragedy; and the more fiercely a girl curses the matchmaker, the happier the matchmaker becomes.
Chestnut flowers bloom ball to ball
The wretched matchmaker wants a pig's head
Pea flowers bloom pod to pod
The wretched matchmaker wants shoes and socks.
The wretched matchmaker is a dog
Eating at this end, then running to that end.
At the bride's home, she praises the groom as fine
At the groom's home, she praises the dowry as plentiful.
She can trick the birds in the trees
She can trick the monkeys on the cliffs.
She tricked my father into nodding his head
She tricked my mother into opening her mouth.
With the advance of the times, Tujia marriage customs have also changed greatly. Freedom to choose one's own marriage has become a common demand among young men and women. The old sayings of 'the parents' command and the matchmaker's word' have lost their binding force over them, and the crying-marriage custom has thus gradually faded away, just as a folk song goes:
Mountain leaves pile up in heaps,
Ask brother if he can blow or not,
When brother blows the leaf, it sounds,
Only the song moves, not the matchmaker.
The Formation of the Custom of Ku Jia (Crying Marriage)
The formation of the custom of crying marriage can be said to have its remote and proximate causes. The legend mentioned above is related to its remote cause (a refracted reflection of the exogamous marriage by capture that emerged in the transition from matrilineal to patrilineal society). As for its proximate cause, it was brought about by certain backward practices of the feudal arranged marriage prevalent in the Xiangxi region (such as "bone-joining kin"—marriage between cousins through the father's sister, "shoulder-pole kin"—marriage between cousins through the mother's sister, and "sitting-the-bed kin"—when a brother dies, his widow must marry his younger brother).
In the past, the Tujia people had several unreasonable marriage customs. First, "a daughter of any paternal aunt's family must marry a son of the maternal uncle's family," called "joining the bone"; second, no matter whose daughter she was, as long as a man took a fancy to her, he would buy a string of firecrackers and set them off at her doorstep to seal the betrothal, and no one on the woman's side could object. If a woman was simultaneously taken with by several men who all held the firecracker-firing betrothal ceremony, the men would sometimes even beat down their marriage rivals to win the marriage, and of course sometimes the woman's safety was endangered as well; third, marriage by capture; fourth, marriages in the past were mostly "by the order of parents and the words of matchmakers," and the woman, knowing nothing about the man and his family, was full of anxiety about her future life. Under such a marriage system, a woman's marriage was usually unhappy, so crying became an inevitability.
For thousands of years, on the stilted houses of the Tujia people in Xiangxi, generation after generation of women cried their marriages in turn. Their crying and lamenting, besides personal grievances and resentments, were also mixed with the constraints of certain social opinion. Those who "cried" well were praised and honored for life; those who "cried" poorly were ridiculed and could not hold their heads up for the rest of their lives. In order not to be pointed at behind their backs and to win a breath of pride, girls in many Tujia areas of Xiangxi, by the age of eleven or twelve, would follow older girls to "accompany the bride" and specifically learn to "cry marriage"; some girls' parents even spent money to invite a "crying-marriage woman" (a semi-professional crying-marriage singer) to their homes to pass on the experience and skills of "crying." So some girls "waiting in their boudoirs" would often gather in groups of three or five, hiding on the stilted houses, or in groves and by streams, quietly imitating "crying marriage" and comparing notes on the art of "crying." Through such peculiar "observation" drills and diligent practice, by the time they married, they would naturally display outstanding "crying marriage" skills, crying on and on yet in a manner both plaintive and moving.
The content of what Tujia girls in Xiangxi "cried" in their "crying marriage," passed down orally through the generations and enriched and polished by some "crying-marriage women," formed certain orally transmitted "scripts" that were largely similar with minor differences—namely the admirable long folk lyric poem "Song of Crying Marriage." The several "scripts" preserved in places such as Mawang Township in Baojing County, Purong Township in Yongshun County, and Pojiao Township in Longshan County are relatively complete and distinctive. In these places there were many famous old "crying-marriage women," among whom Ding Xiangui, Tian Cuilian, and others even took part in film and television shoots in the 1980s. If you travel to the Mengdong River Scenic Area, in the ancient town of Wangcun you might still see "crying marriage" performances by the disciples and grand-disciples they taught.
Judging from the three "scripts" of the "Song of Crying Marriage" compiled and published successively in the 1950s, 1970s, and 1980s, this long folk poem is roughly divided into more than ten sections, including crying for father and mother, crying for elder brother and sister-in-law, parting from sisters, cursing the matchmaker, crying over the dowry, crying farewell to the ancestors, and crying upon boarding the bridal sedan, reaching several thousand lines in length.
In the Tujia "Song of Crying Marriage" of Xiangxi there are many lines of poetry that are plain and unadorned yet deeply moving. Please listen:
Suddenly I hear the golden rooster crow once,
It feels like random arrows piercing my heart,
The suona sounds out "Mother Sees Off Daughter,"
The gongs beat out "The Great Door Opens"...
One note of the suona, one drop of tears,
I clutch mother's skirt and father's clothes.
The ill-fated daughter is helped onto the sedan,
Flesh and blood of one's own must part...
Even a person with a heart of iron and stone, hearing such cries and lamentations, every word steeped in blood and tears, would surely find it hard not to shed tears.
The Procedure of Tujia Crying Marriage
Through attending "edge-of-the-field" markets, antiphonal singing in the mountains, and conveying love through wooden leaves, unmarried men and women send messages of love to acquaintances or strangers. The man will take the initiative to sing: "In my sister's garden grows a plum tree, your parents fenced it round with thorns; a thousand fences, ten thousand fences cannot hold me—I'll turn into a bee and fly to the flowers." If the girl is interested, she'll sing back: "Wooden leaves pile up all over the mountain, can you play them, brother? If one day you learn to play, you'll need only wooden leaves, no matchmaker." The girl expresses herself boldly to the other, and the first step is accomplished. After the girl gains her parents' consent, the man's family invites a matchmaker to thread the needle, and chooses a major festival to send a generous piece of rump meat with the tail attached to the prospective mother-in-law's home. The woman's family will entertain warmly but say not a word about the marriage. When the boy returns home, if only a small piece of that rump meat was cut off and the rest returned together with the tail, then it's surely no go. If the woman's family keeps it all, that means the matter is settled.
After a period of courtship, the feelings between the lovers heat up. The man and woman will discuss marriage arrangements. From then on, the Tujia girl will secretly practice singing the crying-marriage songs.
When the man's family sends the wedding date to the woman's family, the girl should be overjoyed and the whole family should be laughing and cheerful—but what emerges instead is a house full of crying. This is the beginning of crying marriage. From that day on, the bride-to-be sets up a table in her boudoir, inviting nine female relatives and friends to sit around on four sides, with herself in the center, leading the crying song while her companions respond. The main content of crying marriage is: recalling the mother-daughter bond, lamenting the pain of parting, thanking for the grace of upbringing, and entrusting matters to brothers and sisters-in-law. The lyrics are partly fixed and partly improvised. The rhythm is free, the melody simple, the interjections specific.
Generally, the bride-to-be has secretly learned the crying-marriage lyrics and tunes beforehand. The lyrics for the mother-daughter duet include:
Daughter: Mother, oh mother, I'm leaving now, let me comb your hair once more. I remember wildflowers bright in your temples—when did bitter-melon wrinkles appear on your brow? The cradle still rings in my ears, mother rocked herself white-haired for her daughter.
Mother: The brass gong and flowered sedan urge the daughter away, so many words left unsaid. The daughter goes, oh, and mother cannot keep her. The days ahead start anew—honor your parents, be diligent in housekeeping, and may husband and wife love each other through the years.
Crying marriage also includes scolding, though it's never meant seriously—mainly crying-scolding the matchmaker. The gist of the lyrics: "You ill-fated matchmaker want noodles, you ill-fated matchmaker want pig's head, you ill-fated matchmaker with a rotten mouth, you ill-fated matchmaker with a rotten tongue." The matchmaker, hearing this, is not angered at all, but instead chimes in from time to time with laughing song: "The swallow grown flies from the flowered tower, the pup grown goes out the door, the daughter grown leaves in marriage. If I didn't have a rotten mouth, you'd be kowtowing and begging." One mournful, one joyful; one angry, one laughing—witty and humorous, making one unable to suppress a smile.
The wedding day is the peak of crying marriage. The bride cries for her parents, cries for her uncles, cries for her aunts, cries for her sisters, cries for her brothers and sisters-in-law, cries for her bosom friends, cries while having her hair combed, cries while entering the sedan, cries farewell to the ancestors. The crying rises loud, tears and voice together, crying mournfully, crying earth-shakingly. The crying is genuine, the lyrics are poignant. Upon entering the groom's home, the crying continues, and the groom carries the bride on his back into the hall to bow to Heaven and Earth.
The level of skill in crying marriage is also an important marker of a girl's wisdom and virtuous character. Modern Tujia marriage customs have changed somewhat, but crying marriage still exists—the difference being that the content has changed and, strictly speaking, it is now a ceremony. Moreover, in today's crying marriage, everyone the bride cries for will give her a substantial red envelope, in hopes of conjugal love and eternal happiness.
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