An employee, named Rakesh, at the hotel we're staying at invited our family to his nephew's wedding. We'd been to one back in Kerala while staying at Green Palm Homes but it hadn't been a truly traditional Indian wedding, it was a little more modern. It was a Christian ceremony, with Indian traditions mixed into it.
We got ready and a taxi picked us up, driving us to a small village called Pisagan. There we were dropped off at the grooms house and introduced to a guy named Stewart from Australia. We ate lunch there. We hadn't planned on that since we'd purposely fasted in case the toilets weren't as clean as we'd hoped.
The meal consisted of . . .
We got ready and a taxi picked us up, driving us to a small village called Pisagan. There we were dropped off at the grooms house and introduced to a guy named Stewart from Australia. We ate lunch there. We hadn't planned on that since we'd purposely fasted in case the toilets weren't as clean as we'd hoped.
The meal consisted of . . .
two different curries, fresh chappatti, tiny beads of some sweetness, and two squares of lentil-flour and milk cake. Rakesh bragged a lot about the cake, and I don't blame him. It was so good! My favourite was the chappatti, fresh out of the oven, and buttered to the max! I forgot to mention the buffalo milk. Sure, it was fresh out of the utter, but it tasted so sour! Rakesh also called it 'plain lassi', so if you ever come to India, never order a plain lassi at a local restaurant. They're disgusting! . . . at least that's my opinion. If you consult Mom or Dad they'll give you a very different answer.
After lunch Rakesh showed us to his home. First he introduced us to his kids, then his Mom but we had to ask him three times until he introduced us to his wife.
After lunch Rakesh showed us to his home. First he introduced us to his kids, then his Mom but we had to ask him three times until he introduced us to his wife.
Rakesh was married when he was seven. Harsh! We walked back to the groom's house and by the time we got there the groom was mounted on a decorative horse holding a toddler of about one or two years. Mom and Dad later told me he was supposed to represent the rat on which Ganesha, an Indian god, rides on although he only sat in front of the groom. The groom was supposed to be Ganesha. The horse was draped in a thick red material and loose rope netting lay over it's head. A band was blaring music. Is 'music' an appropreate word? Yes, if you are part of Indian culture. But definitely not Western! The trumpets, drums, and symbols were all playing different tunes. Then there was also a portable stereo hooked up to two big speakers, carried on a cart, playing something in between a lullaby and a video game theme song.
As we started walking, the groom looked as if he were about to jump off a cliff and fall to his death, which pretty much sum's it up when you're going to marry someone you don't love. But there is one thing about arranged marriges; the family marries the other family, not just one to one. But that also means that the family marries about five different families, or more, since men can have more than one wife here. And yes, five children is the average amount in each family home in India.
As we started walking, the groom looked as if he were about to jump off a cliff and fall to his death, which pretty much sum's it up when you're going to marry someone you don't love. But there is one thing about arranged marriges; the family marries the other family, not just one to one. But that also means that the family marries about five different families, or more, since men can have more than one wife here. And yes, five children is the average amount in each family home in India.
Back to the groom, who's family had obviously mistook the 'wedding suit' idea, at least for Western culture. He had a large, colourful turban on, with several feathers and plastic immitations of fireworks sticking out of it. He wore a long red shirt and pants embroidered with gold and if you looked closely enough you could see that he had drawn on a moustache. He only had peach fuzz!
Soon after we started marching the streets we stopped and I was invited up to the front of the crowd to dance along with Mom and some Indian women. I was self-concious and couldn't stand the blaring noise. I stopped dancing early but I think they might have taken it as an insult. A lot of kids swarmed Mom and I as we walked always asking if we would take pictures of them. Mom always did which made them really happy. Unfortunatly, most of the children don't speak english well at all making it very difficult to communicate with them, although we all try. I danced once more, this time staying up there the whole time. I copied everybody else's moves since I really had no idea what I was doing. But there was this one time when I actually thought my eardrums were going to pop being placed right next to the symbols, trumpets and speakers! The drummers were so enthusiastic that I didn't have to be right next to them, their loud playing definitely carried over long distances.
Soon after we started marching the streets we stopped and I was invited up to the front of the crowd to dance along with Mom and some Indian women. I was self-concious and couldn't stand the blaring noise. I stopped dancing early but I think they might have taken it as an insult. A lot of kids swarmed Mom and I as we walked always asking if we would take pictures of them. Mom always did which made them really happy. Unfortunatly, most of the children don't speak english well at all making it very difficult to communicate with them, although we all try. I danced once more, this time staying up there the whole time. I copied everybody else's moves since I really had no idea what I was doing. But there was this one time when I actually thought my eardrums were going to pop being placed right next to the symbols, trumpets and speakers! The drummers were so enthusiastic that I didn't have to be right next to them, their loud playing definitely carried over long distances.
Finally we got pickd up by a car after about three hours of parading. Little did we know that it was the groom's car! We thought, 'what an honour!' But, really, it's just as much of an honour to have Westerners come to a low-caste wedding! Squished into the car, Stewart, Dad and Birch decided to get out and ride on top of the bus. I ended up sitting on Mom's lap, while two of the groom's sisters and one cousin sat beside us. What would've been a seven seater back in Canada fit sixteen people! I slept during most of the car ride and when I woke up we were in the bride's village at the reception.
I haven't been to many wedding's but I'm pretty sure most don't hand out handfuls of pastries, chai, and rose milk. The pastries were okay, the chai amazing, but I didn't try the rose milk. Mom loved everything! She says the rose milk was plain lassi and rose petals and Birch liked it, so I'm guessing it wasn't sour. He did not like the buffalo milk served earlier. After you were done with your paper tray or cup you'd throw it on the floor of the tent. I felt so horrible doing that!
There were so many kids crowded around us and they continuously asked to try on my sunglasses. They were mostly boys and they looked really funny with jeweled glasses on and I was anxious having heard many tales of sunglass stealers. It's not like I heard these tales from people warning me not to go to India rather it was from one of our experiences a few days ago. Earlier in the week, an Indian guy asked Birch if he could try on his sunglasses. Figuring white people were like movie-stars here Birch gave the sunglasses to him and to Birch's surpirse the guy ran down the street with his sunglasses. Birch chased after him and got his glasses back and the guy just laughed nervously and said he was kidding. Well, I bet if Birch hadn't chased him the guy wouldn't have walked back and say 'just kidding'.
One of the guys asked me to dance. Disgusted, I refused. I don't have any interest in boys, and even if I did, I'm defifnitly not old enough to dance! But it was wierd! Girls dancing with boys definitly isn't part of Indian culture. Heck, girls making any kind of contact with boys isn't part of Indian culture! The groom's sisters offered to do mahendi all over my arms, for ten ruppees. Mahendi is an Indian tattoo only more kid-friendly because it's just this paste that washes off. After somebody does the designs, you wait for the paste to dry which takes about two to four hours and then pick it off. It stains your skin but not enough so that it's permanent, in about a week it washes off.
I did it, and it looked beautiful. One sister, Sonita, did my right arm and the other, Sonu, did my left. Both Sonita and Sonu are eighteen, but they appear only twelve. I find that most Indian kids are small for their age, but maybe it's just that Western kids are bigger, but I don't think so.
I haven't been to many wedding's but I'm pretty sure most don't hand out handfuls of pastries, chai, and rose milk. The pastries were okay, the chai amazing, but I didn't try the rose milk. Mom loved everything! She says the rose milk was plain lassi and rose petals and Birch liked it, so I'm guessing it wasn't sour. He did not like the buffalo milk served earlier. After you were done with your paper tray or cup you'd throw it on the floor of the tent. I felt so horrible doing that!
There were so many kids crowded around us and they continuously asked to try on my sunglasses. They were mostly boys and they looked really funny with jeweled glasses on and I was anxious having heard many tales of sunglass stealers. It's not like I heard these tales from people warning me not to go to India rather it was from one of our experiences a few days ago. Earlier in the week, an Indian guy asked Birch if he could try on his sunglasses. Figuring white people were like movie-stars here Birch gave the sunglasses to him and to Birch's surpirse the guy ran down the street with his sunglasses. Birch chased after him and got his glasses back and the guy just laughed nervously and said he was kidding. Well, I bet if Birch hadn't chased him the guy wouldn't have walked back and say 'just kidding'.
One of the guys asked me to dance. Disgusted, I refused. I don't have any interest in boys, and even if I did, I'm defifnitly not old enough to dance! But it was wierd! Girls dancing with boys definitly isn't part of Indian culture. Heck, girls making any kind of contact with boys isn't part of Indian culture! The groom's sisters offered to do mahendi all over my arms, for ten ruppees. Mahendi is an Indian tattoo only more kid-friendly because it's just this paste that washes off. After somebody does the designs, you wait for the paste to dry which takes about two to four hours and then pick it off. It stains your skin but not enough so that it's permanent, in about a week it washes off.
I did it, and it looked beautiful. One sister, Sonita, did my right arm and the other, Sonu, did my left. Both Sonita and Sonu are eighteen, but they appear only twelve. I find that most Indian kids are small for their age, but maybe it's just that Western kids are bigger, but I don't think so.
Mom got one arm done too and then paid Sonita and Sonu ten ruppees each. Sonu didn't want to take hers thinking it was too much for just three arms. Mom insisted she take it, though, and she excitedly did. I'm really starting to appreciate my allowance. By now I'd watched the sky darken for the entire three hours that they had drawn our mahendi. Now it was pitch black and the tent was lighted with lamps. The groom mounted his horse again and we started marching to the bride's house. We paraded in a circle around the reception, then danced for another hour, and finally went inside for the wedding ceremony.
A young man named Denesh started talking to Dad while we waited for the brides to appear (two sisters were getting married on this night). Denesh held my Dad's hand while they talked. It may be weird in our culture but Indian boys are used to cuddling and holding hands all the time. See? This trip is educational! Denesh said we could come and eat dinner because the bride woudn't be out for about two hours. We ate in another decorative tent and Dad shared a plate with Denesh. Dinner was delicious, especially the chappatti. There were several fire-hot curries, which I held off on since we didn't have too much water left in our bottle.
A young man named Denesh started talking to Dad while we waited for the brides to appear (two sisters were getting married on this night). Denesh held my Dad's hand while they talked. It may be weird in our culture but Indian boys are used to cuddling and holding hands all the time. See? This trip is educational! Denesh said we could come and eat dinner because the bride woudn't be out for about two hours. We ate in another decorative tent and Dad shared a plate with Denesh. Dinner was delicious, especially the chappatti. There were several fire-hot curries, which I held off on since we didn't have too much water left in our bottle.
When we were done we waited for about half an hour and then the bride finally appeared. She was dressed in a beautiful red sarree with silver and gold embroidery. She looked gorgeous but a ratty quilt drapped over her shoulders gave it a weird twist. Well, it's better to be comfortable than worry about looking pretty. I didn't get to see a lot of the ceremony because everyone was so tall. Birch went up on the roof and I kind of wish I'd went with him but then again girls and boys aren't suppose to associate here.
Here Birch got a good photo from the roof top of both brides and grooms surrounded by their immediate family members before exchanging vows.
While we waited for our cab to come Denesh asked our family if we'd take a walk. Dad and Birch politetly refused, but Mom said yes, so I tagged along with her. On the walk Denesh started asking if I was engaged, hinting that he wasn't. Gross! My Mom got his message and said that she'd only let me marry when I was 25, hopefully older, and I'm only ten now. The only comfort I have is that the family marries the family, so Denesh was pretty much proposing to the whole family, not just me. Still... EW!
The drive back was shorter since the bride's village was closer to Pushkar than the groom's. I was exhausted and when we got back to our hotel I nearly collasped. I had just enough time to crawl into bed.
Bye,
Allegra
The drive back was shorter since the bride's village was closer to Pushkar than the groom's. I was exhausted and when we got back to our hotel I nearly collasped. I had just enough time to crawl into bed.
Bye,
Allegra
Here both grooms are participating in cremonial gift exchanges before parading throught the streets to the reception area where the brides are preparing themselves
RSS Feed