Happily Ever After

After a day of flying, I arrive in India for my friend Raman’s wedding. Last August her parents arranged for her to marry Gurvinder and since then they have had the chance to get to know one another. Now it appears to be the best case scenario: a combo arranged/love marriage.

My driver pulls up to Raman’s family home about 10:30pm and I step into an ecstatic dance party. Raman tells me that they have had a day of ceremonies and have been dancing since 7:00. The music is so loud that my eardrums are rattling and every so often the men throw money into the air, making it rain. Raman’s friend uses a cone of henna to paint my right hand. Raman has beautifully intricate henna up to her elbows and ankles. Tradition says that the darker it is the more her mother-in-law will like her, so she’s been treating it with care.

Saturday morning the second my eyes open I’m delivered a cup of chai and plate of sweets. I could get used to this. Today is the day of ceremonies put on by the groom’s family. Raman stays at home while the rest of us don our custom dresses and have a makeup party like the ones I missed out on in high school.

We arrive bearing gifts of fruit, clothing, and sweets, then Gurvinder is ceremoniously given money by each of Raman’s family members. There’s eating, eating, and more eating, some dancing, and eating again.

A flock of Raman’s aunties have taken me under their wings and they are taking this job seriously. I am either eating or being led somewhere to fill my plate. I have made a special connection with one auntie in particular. She is deaf and non-verbal, so she has never relied on Punjabi, making it much easier and more natural for her to gesture communication with me.

With belly aches we go home. All afternoon the women sit on a bed in the living room, their legs tucked under a shared blanket. They tell Raman stories about the day and her new in-laws. She hasn’t met them yet.

Here there are no clocks, watches, or strict time schedules; a refreshing change from my time-slave western culture. In the evening, when everyone arrives the ‘Bangle Ceremony’ begins. Raman has been dreaming of wearing wedding bangles since she was 10 years old. Her mother’s brothers bless the bangles and carefully guide them onto her wrists. Here they will stay until she has her first baby, though in modern times it’s usually more like 6 weeks.

With anticipation everyone goes to bed. The house is like a big family slumber party. There are mats all over the floor and must be at least 25 people sleeping here. There is 1 bathroom. Amazingly, this does not seem to be a problem at all. Just imagine 25 people getting ready for a Canadian wedding with 1 bathroom. Here it is somehow seamless.

Remember when I said that time isn’t important here? The glaring exception is the wedding morning. At precisely 5am a parade of women wake Raman. They sing as she washes herself, then later she is swept away to the beauty parlour.

I dress in my second custom Indian gown. I start to think that maybe I don’t stand out so much; after all I have tanned skin with dark hair and eyes. One of the housekeepers says something to me in Punjabi and a cousin translates, “She says you look like a boy.” Oh, that. They likely have never seen a woman with short hair before.

We caravan to the wedding and, big surprise, we eat. Raman arrives and I cannot take my eyes off of this exquisite Indian princess. 

Gurvinder and his family are led in by a marching band. There are a series of steps and ceremonies and everything is lost in translation for me. But I don’t need to understand the words when I can feel the emotions: anticipation, excitement, joy, love.

After hours of photos, ceremonies, and eating, the energy palpably changes. It feels somber and sad. At Canadian weddings I am used to a union of 2 families, but in India it is starkly different. Raman is leaving her family to join Gurvinder’s. Her suitcases are delivered to his family and her family files through a receiving line of tear filled goodbyes.

Attending an Indian wedding is an experience that makes the highlight reel of my life. The wedding was unforgettable, but some of my favourite memories will be some of the in between times:

– Watching a man skillfully wrap 7 meters of cloth into an expert turban.

– Raman reminiscing about summer nights her family spent sleeping on the rooftop under the stars.

– A cousin walking me around the village, then the eruption of laughter from the family when he told them the things I took pictures of.

– The special presentation of toilet paper in the bathroom when I arrived (and surprisingly I was not the only one using it!).

– Raman’s Grandfather specifically finding me to gently gesture the importance of covering my head in the temple.

– The warmth and kindness I felt from Raman’s family.

Now I’m being spoiled rotten by Raman’s family for a couple more days until my flight to Singapore!