Monsoon Wedding

While I did miss Ahmedabad's kite festival, I am here for peak wedding season. Indian weddings are epic affairs. One night we went to a party, outside of town on a farmhouse, hosted by the bride's family. These parties seem to go on for multiple days. This was actually the second night of musical performances for this particular wedding. This being wedding season, attending so many functions requires serious matrimonial stamina.



At the farmhouse, a famous singer was performing, and we heard some truly amazing music. Apparently, there was disagreement among the audience whether to start dancing, or continue listening.



I don't speak Hindi or Gujarati, but I was made to understand and feel that the music was about the silent, deep, vibrations of space, the grandeur and mystery of 4.54 billion sunrises and sunsets, the soft melody of lullabies known by heart a continent over, sung by a nightingale with a voice as clear and bright as a star, and lovers dedicating their last breaths to one another, accompanied by tablas pumping out the kinetic rhythm of genetic codes, punk rock power chords, big bang Bhangra, Hindi pop, the most breathless parts of Bollywood movies, klezmer rappers rhyming in Hindi, and the smoky smoldering eyes of an Indian princess, and the gentle tumble of her dark wavy hair.



Here I am with my adopted parents at the party. It's very cold, and I am wearing sandals, plus one of Shalin's outfits, a Shyamal & Bhumika piece.



The next day we partied like rockstars with the groom's family (neighbors), and friends, before meeting the bride's family.



Above, some party goers. Below, things explode and go off. Some kids gather money from the ground.



That is, in fact, money floating through the air.



Alcohol is not allowed in Gujarat, but dancing is. I'm told the thali of colors is involved in a ritual, though I failed to observe it in action. Above left, hiding inside the Muppet like quantity of red hairs, is your correspondent.



The band packs on to an impossibly small car for a change in venues (different part of town), where the the bride's party will receive us. A small child looks on, above.



The wedding was so loud, so boisterous, so big an event, that it took on truly global proportions. Representatives from Moscow and Turkey were in attendance. The American delegation was composed of your humble correspondent, plus a few NRIs. Below, a groom's friend encouraging the band to continue playing more, and faster, with the use of paper currency.



It is through the efforts of hard working men and women such as these party goers that India is such a colorful place. The individual pictured above right is doing his part to ensure India remains the world's uncontested chromatic superpower.



Riding in the car is a privilege reserved for the groom and his sisters. It is, naturally, pulled by white horses. Click on any of these photographs for more images of the celebrations.



Above, but a portion of the reception space, suitable for a Raj. The daughter is literally to be given away, and she and her sister are both crying. The bride will move into her husband's family's house.



I understand that the during the wedding ceremony, the groom is warned three times that he is about to be married, and has these last few, precious, opportunities to make his escape from the whole ordeal.



Now that I've been to an Indian wedding I'm excited to return for Shalin's. I'm told that all the arrangements are ready to spring into action -- the remaining step is to pick the lady. No pressure, of course, from these quarters.