Tying the Knot, South Indian style — Day #2

The Phenomenon of tying saris for Americans.

Taryn decided to come a little later in the day and get some much-needed sleep, so 6AM (we were supposed to be there by 7:30) found me alone, racking my brain to remember just how the sari had been tied last night. One disadvantage of living in the house was that there weren’t a fleet of cleaning ladies anxious to help the Americans. In the end, however, I managed what I thought was a pretty decent first go at sari-tying (and was pretty proud of this accomplishment).

I’m not sure if I mentioned yet what a big deal it was to the Indian people that we Americans were wearing saris. They genuinely seemed so excited to have us embracing their culture in this kind of way. A crew of women approached a few of us with a picture request.

So, however good I thought I was, these girls who were working at the event directed me towards a doorway into a room I hadn’t explored. I had noticed girls running in and out of the room all night the night before, and was worried that this room was a place for intimate friends of the bride. Turns out it was a dressing room for all the ladies to adjust their saris or whatever else they were wearing. The 3 girls turned me over to another set of older women, who proceeded to unravel and then rewrap me.

They found this to be great fun, and then of course we had to take a bunch of photos of the outcome. They did do a really nice job. The problem I’ve noticed thus far is that just about every woman has their own way of tying a sari, so watching several different women actually confuses you more.

Anyway, the same process of five million people being on the stage while some a bunch of important things were going on continued. This was the day of the official marriage part, which had happened exactly at 7:30am—timing is incredibly important. All Indians consult an astrologer for selection of the “auspicious” time for the formal marriage to occur, and they adhere to whatever time the stars say is the best.  Once again, people sort of paid attention when they felt like it. I noticed even that in the middle of the ceremony, someone handed their cellphone to the groom—I can only assume it was a relative who couldn’t be at the wedding. But it struck me as funny they would hand the groom a cellphone in the middle of the ceremony. I guess that’s part of the Indian chaos you have to love in order to stay…

After lunch, you went back to the main room where the ceremony had taken place. The family was on the stage, and you went through the receiving line to congratulate them. We waited as long as possible for this, as the line was huge and time-consuming.

Instead, I stayed in the big sweaty room where people were eating, and we had more musical entertainment—this time a tabla player and a flutist. I liked the sitar more than the flute, but it was still really great to be able to hear the music.

That was about it.

From there I went home and napped flat on my back, not wanting to mess up my sari, before heading to the event that Taryn had been working on—a dinner for all the Fellows, the Deshpande’s and an elite group of Indians, many of whom were being introduced to the Deshpande Foundation’s work for the first time. The event was not so bad—put on at the nicest hotel in Hubli—but we were all a little tired from a solid weekend of activity.

Tying the knot, South Indian style — Day #1

The big wedding started on Saturday night. The Deshpande’s had arrived from Boston earlier in the week, during which time we had a meeting of introductions, followed by a group dinner. Desh and Jaisharee are really great, down-to-earth people. Both their sons (who look a lot alike) were in town for the event, of course—they all live in Boston.

So Saturday saw all of us Americans trying to master the art of tying a sari.  This is NOT an easy thing to do, and even some Indian women aren’t that good at it.  Our Program Manager, Laxmi (pronounced “Luckshmi”), met us all at the dorm to help us tie (or, as they say, wrap) the saris.  The cleaning women at the dorm were also enthusiastic helpers and stylistic consutlants of sorts–one was very dismayed by my lack of a “chain” (necklace) and even offered to lend me one.

Eventually we all piled into autos and headed to Gokul Gardens, where the wedding was taking place. When we arrived (6pm-ish), the “non-alcoholic cocktail hour” before the wedding was going strong—a series of long tables full of different fun Indian hors d’oeuvres, sweets and beverages (the Deshpande’s, as strict Hindus, are extremely anti-alcohol). Taryn and I made sure to sample everything, liking some much better than others.

After some time, there was a general announcement that the procession was about to start. We followed the crowd to the entrance, where a parade was forming. On the float pulled by a car was the groom and a girl I thought was the bride. I was soon corrected by the people around me; this girl was a near relative. Some other young children were allowed to ride, too. I guess the groom was being brought to meet his bride. (I’ve heard from others that this was a very modest ceremony; that many such weddings feature the groom’s float being pulled by a horse and other such dramatics.)

The procession stopped outside the entrance to the main hall, and it seemed as though the big group and divided itself into 2 groups—male and female. In their respective spaces, each danced a little celebratory dance, which I was later disappointed to realize would be the only dancing I would see at THIS wedding (though that’s not indicative of all Indian weddings, by any means). Eventually the groom was carried on a chair from the float inside the wedding hall, and we all followed suit.

Inside, the hall was done up very nicely. There was a big stage up front, with rows of chairs for the guests. Everyone was sitting down, so we did, too. There was a lot of commotion on the stage; first they were setting up the video equipment. But my hopes that the video-tapers would back off so we could see the action on stage were in vain; these persistent buggers didn’t back off the whole time. We would have been lost as to what was going on, if there hadn’t been one guy acting as interpreter. The Indian people seated around us were also generally happy to make sure we knew what was going on and shed some light on this important part of Indian culture.

After some time of this, though, we started following the lead of other people around us and getting up and milling around. People don’t seem to need to pay that much attention to the goings-on onstage. I will note that the full families were on the stage, as well as the 2 Brahmin priests who were leading the ceremony.

Eventually the ceremony concluded and we were all shuffled outside for a grand dinner in the open grassy area that had been where the hors d’oeuvres were served. Tables had been set up for the guests, but the space wasn’t large enough for the hundreds of us there; we ate in 3 shifts. Eating in shifts is common practice for feeding such large groups of people, I have since learned. Each table had only one side for seating, creating long aisles for traditional shirtless Brahmin men to file through and serve us a huge assortment of food.

The plate setting was South Indian in that our plate was a large palm leaf. I should mention here that the cultural differences between North and South India are huge, and that the images people see back in the States are more often than not North Indian. Interestingly enough, Desh informed me (during the brief conversation I had with him that night) that many North Indian customs are now finding their way into South Indian ceremonies. While the food that night was very South Indian, the food the next day was more of a mix. And the turbans many of the men were wearing are an adoption of North Indian practices…

After dinner, people could mingle at will or go back to the wedding hall, where a tabla player and a sitar players were playing. I spent probably about a half hour listening to the music; this was the music you think of when you think of India (if you don’t think of Bollywood musicals first).

I would have liked to stay longer, but Taryn was anxious to get home–we had to be there early the next morning and she had a bunch of other work she needed to do for an event that was going on after the wedding the next evening…

butterfly

a few nights ago, a butterfly flew through the window into my room.

i was amused by this, and the way it hovered near my long tube light, just the way a moth or any other insect gravitates towards light. for some reason, i hadn’t thought of butterflies doing this, mostly because i guess i think of them as daytime, outdoors kind of insects. i always relegated moths to the night, and the artificial lights that accompany it.

anyhow, i left the window open that night so the butterfly could return to the great outdoors, and suffered some mosquito bites in the process. but not only did the butterfly NOT leave my room, a second one joined it! i guess the first butterfly was lonely…

so there were two butterflies in my room, then.

after about a day, one of them wised up and flew out.

don’t know if it was the first one or the second one–did the first one figure things out and leave its friend to fend for itself, or did the first one think it had a good thing going and not want to leave? i won’t know.

i tried to shoo the butterfly out the window, but she wouldn’t have it.  i guess my room must have presented a nice shelter.

there’s a moe. song i really like called, “moth,” and i thought about some of the lyrics to it as i watched the lone butterfly flutter near my light:

she knows nothing at all about life / she knows everything about living

i kinda wondered if i fit into that at all.  but we all ARE just living, without knowing the ultimate purpose…or at least i don’t pretend i do.

another day or so passed, and i didn’t see the butterfly anymore. i hoped it had flown away.

then, this morning, the butterfly was dead on my floor.