miriamSpace

This entry been updated because many of the links to pictures no longer work, so I deleted a lot of the text that referred to them... many apologies, please just use your imagination.

Ahhh, Weddings! The glorious union of two people who decide to buck the odds and risk their own identity for the sake of community and family. I must admit being a long time skeptic - it may or may not come from my heritage: three generations of divorce is an intimidating legacy. However, Indian weddings (and marriages) are reported to be a completely different breed so when I was lucky enough to be invited I decided to set aside my personal grudge and see what the hullabaloo is all about. Well one thing leads to another - in a short two weeks I ended up attending not one, but two weddings. The first, a cousin of my host family was to be a Coorg wedding. The second, of a neighbor, was a Sindhi wedding. You see, most people think of India as one big country but in reality it is a myriad of clans, each with its own traditions and rules. Both of these marriages were love matches (not the traditional arranged marriages) and both of them were multi-cultural. It seems globalization affects us on all levels.

The Coorg wedding was surprisingly fabulous. Perhaps because it was in the country, perhaps because it was with my host family, who is fabulously warm and friendly, perhaps because it wasn't exactly traditional, for whatever reason, I had a great time. The bride was French so only ten of her relatives attended - therefore the celebration was untraditionally small (only a few hundred of the groom's relatives showed up and just ten of the bride's family attended), and I wasn't the only white person.

We boarded the bus early, the car had been sent with my host-father two days earlier, loaded with chocolates, clothes, and who knows what else. Six hours later, around noon, we thankfully left the bus and inhaled some delicious fresh air.

Coorg is actually a place, and it seems all Coorgs come from there. I imagine it is something like saying you are from Mississippi or something, except Coorgs traditionally look similar and unlike other south Indians they tend to be tall and fair skinned with Aryan noses. My host sisters loved pointing out that the bride was an inch shorter than the groom - she is only six feet two inches tall.

I had imagined that during the two days of wedding we would be busy getting dressed and meeting an greeting people and attending lots of rites that happen making the wedding last more than the one day, or even several hours that Christian style weddings seem to call for.

It was much more relaxing. Granted there was a lot of greeting, but perhaps since the bride was French, no one seemed to feel like getting super duper dressed up. So the first night we helped with setting the food out and feeding the elders, and were allowed to just wear jeans and sweaters. Granted I still felt underdressed since my jeans are very old, worn and fit me only in loosest sense. I have learned that when Indians say jeans are okay to wear, black slacks are a better idea. Too bad I didn't bring any.

But my host family's extended family was marvelous and I soon felt fine, despite my attire. In fact, I soon forgot I wasn't Indian - though occasionally a confused French person would come up to me and say questioningly "Bonjour?" So after napping and relaxing all day the first night wasn't too stressful. Sort of like a pre-reception where all the relatives get to see each other, the bride and groom, and (of course) eat a lot. In fact, as far as I can tell weddings are really an excuse to gain weight. First we had snacks from eight to ten p.m. and then dinner from ten to eleven p.m. After dinner was dancing; a good way to help work off some of those snacks.

The pre-reception thing was small and by midnight there weren't too many folks left. We wished Prashant, (host uncle) a happy Birthday and went to bed.

After sleeping in (I swear most of what we did that weekend was eat and sleep), bathing and getting ready we went to see where the action was. Now is where tradition stepped in.

We waited and greeted people for what seemed like forever. Apparently the bride and groom were running a bit late, not part of the tradition. The groom's mother hadn't arrived until late the night before - a scandal. In fact the whole affair seemed sort of last minute. The lucky couple didn't get to the wedding site until a day before the event. I heard that due to the pressure of work only a small window of time was available for the wedding. Normally the bride's family takes care of the details but this bride's family didn't know what details were to be taken care of so a lot of things slipped through the cracks. Food tended to be late, there were very few flowers and the lighting was poor and last minute (as were most of the decorations). The bride didn't have henna put all over her hands. Diya (host sister) had done mine a few days earlier to see them click here My left hand has the traditional pattern, with the mango leaf shape in the center. My right hand is completely Diya's creation.

This is the photo after we all got dolled up. On my right is Diya (the smallest), dressed in red is Priya, my other host sister and next to her is Rhea, their cousin. Their father gave me an Indian name, Maya, so that I would fit in.

Finally the wedding started, beginning with the tradition of the Bride's mother putting a symbolic necklace on her daughter, See it here, sorry it is sideways.

Then there is a procession to the wedding stage, complete with live music, which sounds something like a band falling down a stairs. I didn't get a recording but there were lots of big curved horns

Cheers to the groom (Karun) and bride (Violainne)

They arrive on stage, sit on small stools and say vows to each other. There is no preacher. Then the whole family lines up to give gifts. Since weddings tend to be expensive, gifts are usually cash, anonymous, in a pretty envelope. The person giving the gift also showers rice on the bride and groom three times and gives blessings. My host mom said that there were so many people at her wedding she was up to her knees in rice by the end of the blessings. Somewhere in there the newlyweds also have to ask blessings of all the elders. This too can take hours and is difficult physically because the way Coorgs get blessings is to touch the tops of the blesser's feet then bring your hands up to your chest three times, not exactly good for your back. At last the new couple tries to leave the stage but one of the groom's male relatives tries to stop them, asking the bride what happened - she was suppose to marry him and now she was running off with his relative - basically giving them a hard time. The groom has to buy him off enabling them to leave the stage.

After these festivities there was a break, more food and in a traditional wedding there would be a ganga (water) puja (prayer thingy). In this ritual the new wife is suppose to take water from the well and bring it to the altar. A simple task made more complicated by the fact that she is supposed to balance this water on her head and the groom's male relatives (again) get in her way. This time they dance in front of her, preventing her from reaching the altar. Apparently this can go on for hours and the dancing can get kind of dirty. The French bride said she wasn't comfortable with this, even though the groom's family promised to be good. Diya told me that usually brides will carry a hat pin with them and if the dancer gets too close she will prick him, making him jump back, allowing her a few steps forward.

So I missed out on that stuff. Instead we just reconvened for more food and dancing. We wore jeans and sweaters again. The next day we headed back early, as some of the family had another wedding to attend that night.

Diya and I went to an outdoor art fair instead. My next wedding was also only half Indian, the bride was Chilean. I missed the actual ceremony for this one, but it seemed simpler. There were lots of flowers, lots of food, but no dancing.