Saturday March 21st:
We turn up on time, 4pm, at the house of the bride and are immediately swarmed by women vying for our attention and making sure we're properly fed; we enjoy mouth watering biryani rice and sugary coconut balls. None of the women can believe that I'm 25 and unmarried, let alone without children! How lonely I must be! The bride's brother offers to aid in my dire situation, whipping out his phone to call my father for permission; fat chance.
The bride to be sits in the middle of the room, tented in gold fringed silk, as everyone present takes turns smearing her with sweet smelling jasmine powder and trickling water on her head. It's a messy, festive atmosphere; a room filled with smiling faces and sideways glances and giggles. I'm cheered on as I'm pushed up to take part in the bathing. I do so happily, yet a little weary, I can't help but feel that our presence is distracting from this young woman's very special day. Every time I catch her eye though, to give a courteous and thankful smile, she returns an equally thankful smile, seemingly glad to share the limelight and pressure.
I’m told by her uncle that she's 23 and that after tomorrow this will no longer be her home; she'll go immediately to live with her husband, a man she's yet to lay eyes on. He's very excited and proud as he gets misty eyed remembering the first time he saw his wife the day they were married, 20 years ago. I can't help but feel immensely lucky to be welcomed into such an intimate day.
It's only been two hours since we were last fed, but it's dinner time now and we're led up to the roof, where it's much cooler and they've lain out woven mats. We sit and are dished heaping portions of curry, rice and chutney on our banana leaf plates. Court and I are the only women eating, all the others wait patiently, watching their husbands and refilling our leaves as soon as we scoop up a finger full.
After dinner we don’t stick around very long; we realize we’re just in the way as we completely lack the proficiency that all the women are displaying in tying strands off small jasmine flowers (perhaps it’s because it’s our first time). We’re told to come to the Marriage Hall at 10am the following day, and to wear "American dress," meaning what I've got on, cargo pants and a t-shirt. Just as we're enchanted by their silk saris, they love being around our different style of clothes. We bid our farewells to the adults and are escorted by a throng of children for several blocks. Once we’re alone we can’t stop talking; as quiet and observant as we were at the house, now we’re rehashing every detail of the fascinating evening.
In the morning we stop in and pick up a card to give the bride. Court has to talk me out of the "Bon Voyage" greeting card; I think it's too fitting.
At the wedding hall it’s a similar scene to the night before, and so my limbs become jelly as everyone tries to get a piece of the foreigner pie. The hall consists of three main areas, one side houses a stage for the groom, on the other side of a partition all the women sit, and behind both of these is the dining are, where there are already many long tables filled with avid eaters. Soon we're sat among feverishly shoveling fingers at a crowded table; men walk by scooping out portions of all the usual, and now I know why the feeding is so frantic, it’s so good! As soon as we finish we're just as suddenly plucked from our seats and carted off to the bride's room. She's getting her make-up done and all the important women in her life are present. It's a spectacularly colorful room, blossoming with silk saris, no two quite alike, and ornate gold jewelry dripping from head to toe. Although the overall mood is quite boisterous, I notice that the bride is looking into her lap and a few quiet tears are slipping down her cheeks.
A day that young girls in our culture dream of and wish for, is right now appearing to be a very scary time. She’s about to walk into a chasm of unknowns and I can not imagine what is going through her head. Yet I commend her; she is certainly trying not to show her inner turmoil, presenting instead the strong woman that is capable of leading a duty filled life and taking her place in society. Although I can’t fathom it for myself, I respect the choices that have been made here today and the implications that they carry.
After the fuss and primping the bride takes her place on a heavily glitzed and glittered throne on the women’s side of the partition. Women and men remain separate, and the marriage takes place over a loudspeaker; husband and wife won't come face to face until this evening, in his home.
The Muslim wedding is quite fascinating, so different from the celebrations of our own; it has certainly become an enlightening and cherished day. After three hours of smiling and nodding, not understanding half of what is said to us, and sure that even less has been absorbed by our ever-attentive audience, we're thoroughly exhausted and dripping in the heat. We thank the family for having us, pose for several more photos and then head back for a nap; digesting the morning's events and many meals.
That evening clouds roll in and the air cools; I'm walking quickly to find a travel agent and the wind is picking up. At the intersection I look to the right and am stopped by the sky. The Nilgiris stand silhouetted black; the mountains are clear, as is the sky directly above them, but then the clouds thicken to a black mass, eating up the color. It looks as if the mountains are black flames, emitting an orange glowing light that's quickly swallowed into the void above. I push on, the wind now playing crazily with anything that's not tied down, each falling raindrop is larger than the last as feet hurry and hands quickly close up shop. I book us tickets to Pondicherry, a French city on the coast, and we hurriedly pack and run to the station in the cascading rain.
As I sit on the overnight bus, moving freely throughout a country far from my own, doing things on a whim and as I please, I think of the young woman spending her first night away from home; tonight I don't take for granted my freedom and youth.
