My Aunt's Wedding

My Aunt’s Wedding

Come May-June-July and the wedding season is all upon us in all its wealthy splendor splashing a rainbow of gold & silver, red & orange, pink & purple & hues of green. A few days back we were invited to one such society event which would aptly be called “the big fat Indian wedding” (sorry for the cliché`). The invite (its passé to call it invitation)came in a purple and gold box with a gilt-edged lining tied with a gold ribbon containing color coded invitations for the various programs that would stretch over a full five days starting with sangeet and the last grand finale, the reception. Each invitation was sealed with a gold seal that had the initials of the super-rich parents and a gold signature for the personal touch. Green invite was for the mehendi with the dress theme to match, red for the sangeet, cream for the wedding and purple and gold for the reception that was to be held in the ball room of a 7-star hotel which could accommodate a couple of thousand guests expected to attend. The invitation for the special “hen” party meant only for the under-25 girls(above 18 , I think?) was printed in psychedelic colors that had the insignia of a famous neo-artiste known for his abstract work(read, indelible) to be held at an undisclosed destination with an undisclosed itinerary. Knowing vaguely about such do’s I could only thank my advancing age for sparing me the orgy (some advantage of growing old).

The “sangeet” preparations had begun a month earlier when a famous Bollywood(our eternal Indian fixation) choreographer, now out of work, was hired to train the bride, groom ,their parents and friends all the steps of popular wedding songs that had made a Madhuri or a Kareena famous. Suffice to say, the girls were happily learning the dance intricacies under the able tutelage of a diamond stud sporting caricature dressed in lime green shirt and tight pink pants. Lehengas for this occasion were ordered from a special boutique and the bride wore a Svarvoski studded lehenga, just like “Aish’s”! (there we go again). Even the groom had a made-to-order dress –yes, you guessed it right. Just like SRK’s.

The sangeet started with the mandatory popping of the finest bubbly which opened the bar from where flowed the choicest single malts and French wines and was soon besieged by the men folk. The women and children merrily clapped to dances including the one by the groom who seemed to have two left feet and the parents whose bellies shook more than their legs. I was blissfully sipping on my orange juice laced with vodka and surreptitiously handed over to me by husband dear! The sangeet extended in to the mehendi where artistes trained to decorate fair manicured starry palms (what else?) drew intricate designs on all the feminine palms, albeit for a hefty fee. The proud parents beamed at the extravaganza thanking the wedding planners for a ceremony fit for a princess!

I have by now exhausted my repertoire of adjectives but can’t help describing the grandest of all, the wedding reception. Attired in gold and red designer lehenga, the bride looked every inch the princess she was meant to be. Gold and diamond jewelry stretched from neck to waist making me wonder how she could smile so sweetly with all that weight around her neck. But then no girl ever gets bogged down by the weight of gold! A long queue of Armani suits and brocade silks waited to bless the couple while the others milled around what appeared to me as the world palate. Stalls of Continental jostled around Punjabi food. Chinese counters competed with Thai and Mexican stole attention from Lebanese. Desserts of all continents including an array of special Indian sweets topped the long lines of guests. The wedding planners had left nothing to chance and it was, to use a cliché “an affair to remember”.

As the wealthy world whirled around me I was transported back 40 years to another wedding that took place in my grand-mother’s front-yard and holds a special place in my heart. My Aunt’s wedding! As a ten year old I had watched in amazement as my Grand- mother and Mom took charge of the wedding preparation of the younger daughter as soon as the “boy’s side” confirmed her acceptance as their daughter-in-law and decided on the date. After a brief celebration of feeding pedhas to one-another, the ladies in the house got down to preparing the list of work to be done, guests to be invited, letters to close relatives, trousseau to be finalized, sarees for the close female relatives and jewelry  for the bride. Each elderin the family was handed over one responsibility and one small note book to jot down the work to do, guests to be invited, letters to be sent so that far off relatives could plan and book tickets well in advance. The men folk were entrusted the work of hiring the maharaj for cooking the wedding meals, arrange for the decorative shamiyana in the front yard where the wedding would be held, and the invitation card which was a simple white and gold card that said, “with blessings of Lord Ganesh, we invite you……………”. The women busied themselves with planning the food menu which consisted of simple Mahartastrian wholesome delicious food and the mandatory saffron “jalebi”, packets of savory and sweets for all those who would attend and a list of gifts for the groom’s family. The back yard of the house was converted into a make-shift kitchen where after a small puja, began the preparation of wedding savories and sweets. The women sat around huge trays of golden pearls and rolled them into sweet laddoos as they laughed and teased the bride. The younger girls were assigned the duty of counting the laddoos and packing them for distribution. There was laughter and joy, energy and activity all day long. The house seemed magical, with so much of happiness around, milling with people working, talking, eating and making merry. As the D-day arrived the house turned into Cindrella’s castle with fairy lights all over the place, fragrant jasmine and mogra flowers wafting from all corners and the front yard bedecked with golden globes of marigold interspersed with the pious mango leaves. The wedding ceremony lasted for just two main events, one when the groom’s family was officially introduced to the bride’s family on the eve of marriage and the next morning when my Aunt got tied in the holy matrimonial bond amidst chanting of Vedic mantras and copious tears from grand-ma and Mom’s eyes. The grand lunch had everyone sitting on the floor with the women in heavy silk sarees serving all the guests with loads of love and urging them to eat more. The whole place was filled with much laughter and bonhomie and it was hard to believe that the groom’s family had just met mine!

It was then time for my Aunt to move on from her home of 22 years to a completely new home, new people who would now be her own, new life, new adjustments, new relationships, and new responsibilities. Grand-ma and Mom suddenly seemed to have lost nerve and I could see them clinging on to the bride, crying, laughing, worrying, and putting up a brave face to bid her a happy farewell. There were tears all over and to my tiny mind it seemed ridiculous that such a happy occasion mandated for so much crying. I was too small to know the change that comes over with marriage. Needless to say, I found out why many years later.

As I broke off my reverie, standing in the perfectly planned super event that I had just witnessed, I noticed that the bride was about to leave for her new home. Copious tears began to flow with tight embraces from the heart-broken parents. I smiled to myself. Well at least something hadn’t changed!