Wedding Bells

Weddings conjure up images of long white dresses, happy couples, the kiss, and the first dance.

Not so much in India.

I had the pleasure to go to the first and third day of a wedding of my friend’s cousin. I got invited to five weddings in total, and this was by far the closest “relation” I had to any of them. Compared to the rest, I was basically a cousin too.

To prepare, Paulette and I went to the clothing shops to get proper attire. I planned to just wear one of my nice new outfits but Paulette wanted to get all decked out. She finally decided on a lehenga choli (a traditional top, long skirt and wrap.) The next day she picked it up and we went home to get dressed. Vijay (our friend), his sister and their little cousin came to get us. We got there quickly-- (it was right around the corner.) Before we got out of the car Vijay turned to us and casually told us we couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t even know him at the wedding. We were to be his sister’s friend. Paulette asked what our connection to her was suppose to be and Vijay assured us it wouldn’t come up (guess what was one of the most popular questions for all three of us that night.) True to his word, we talked to him once, to be introduced. Since he’s in his late 20s and unmarried it would have created quite the stir if he’d been seen talking to us. These types of “rules” still strike me as bizarre.

The Venue

Weddings are held at large “yards” where there’s an incredible amount of food, and standing around. The first day of the wedding is technically the engagement. It delivered in terms of attired-- a whirlwind of color, and sparkles for the women, and informal attire for the men. I delivered by continuing my status quo of being watched and messing up.

A Terrible Picture Showing the Yard

My first mistake was my attire. My American mindset had me thinking that it would be wrong, almost insulting, if I dressed in a traditional fashion. I knew that dressing in an American fashion would be incorrect as well, so I chose a middle ground. “You don’t like Indian clothing?” was the most frequent English in my direction. A disgruntled look with hand waving and Hindi was considerably more popular.

My biggest mistake though was dancing. Dancing was a catch-22. I’m not a good Indian dancer (shocking, I know.) I now feel the pain of dancers on So You Think You Can Dance. My guest begged (demanded) Paulette and I to dance. I finally relented and so did Paulette. One of the guests enthusiastically started to show us the moves. Paulette (who I should note has lived here for 3 years and was a professional dance teacher) “picked it up” quite well. I did not. In fact I messed up so horribly that my “teacher” smacked me in the arm and then pushed me with both hands off the dance floor. Remember that post where I said living in India is like living in a teenager’s nightmare? There’s the middle school dance.

However, I did shine in one part of Day One—eating. I ate everything with great enthusiasm. The buffet was also the only place I could maintain a conversation, since I can have a toddler’s conversation about food in Hindi. In exchange, I was the only one with waiter service. Once I figured out that I could just be parked in a chair and the men who worked at the wedding would literally come over to me and give me food, my night significantly improved. There were only a few goings-on that had me leave my perch—the bride and pictures.

The bride arrived to a fanfare of drums, dancing and people waving money. She looked like a true Indian bride—absolutely miserable. I should explain. Indian brides are expected to look shy, nervous and frankly, unenthused. The first two were easy to accomplish as she had met and talked to her “fiancée” once, for about five minutes. Given these things, and the fact that she was about to be moved to the home of her parents-in-law, her expression was understandable (and was expected.)

The Bride’s Entrance

Unenthused

She walked through the yard, up to her fiancée and then they stood next to each other, before sitting next to each other. They did not say a word as far as I could tell (and I got a front row seat as I was pushed into as many wedding photos as possible.) They sat there for the better part of an hour and only rose for their first dance. The dance involved her dancing for about 5 minutes with him looking at her, and her looking as if she wished she could melt through the floor.

I also got to meet one of my good friends again. Quite literally the only time I talked to Vijay, the guy who invited us, was when he introduced himself to me for a few minutes. We then had to sneak back into his car for our ride.

Day Three was better in every way. In order to not be fooled twice, I bought a traditional outfit. We went across the street and my lovely neighbor and her daughter pinned and wrapped us up. They even put jewelry on us to make us “full Indian.” Paulette and I “arrived too late” for the dancing. It was perfect. Even the woman who hit me two days before, talked to me and took a picture with me.

The bride and groom spent a majority of time sitting on a stage in ornate chairs, looking passive. Her sari was incredible. It was amazing she could even move given the amount of gold she was wearing. I imagine King Midas was actually an Indian queen, Maharaja Mena. Fun fact—Indian housewives own 11% of the gold in the world.

Around their stage were various items of furniture—a bed, a desk, a few cabinets ect. This was her dowry. Oh yeah, that exists. In fact, I caused an incredible amount of confusion one night when I casually mentioned that I didn’t have a dowry. It’s conversations like that that I never thought I’d have.

Paulette, Vijay and me (in front of the dowry)

The wedding culminated in the bride circling her husband (I somehow missed this part… I was probably at the food, getting great service, as usual) and the exchanging of flower wreaths. The bride and groom stood on this tall tower that rose up and descended. Incredibly loud bells clanged and large confetti cannons exploded. I took pictures and grabbed my favorite shot that I was able to give to the new couple. Quite the “blushing bride.”