While in the Boston area, we stayed with Meera’s sister (who is married to a cousin of mine) and participated fully in the wedding of their son.
An Indian weeding is comprised of several events. This one was a half Indian wedding as the bride was a white woman of Italian heritage. However, the couple decided to weigh heavy on the Indian traditions because they are more colorful and exotic. So we had four events (some Indian weddings have seven-eight events)
Mehndi: Putting hena designs on hands and arms of the bride and whoever else harboring desire to get tattoos but not bold enough to get permanent ones. Quite a few of the guests got henna.
Sangeet: That means music. As the name suggests it involves music and dancing. We had a lot of both.
The main event: The wedding itself was held in Boston Aquarium. A professional picture taking session preceded the wedding ceremony. It was then followed by speeches and dancing. After everything was done, we all went to an after-party in a bar and celebrated until we got kicked-out at 2:15 am.
The final lunch: The immediate family got together at the hosts house for a lunch of South Indian food.
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Wedding vignettes:
Meera was doing the final ironing of clothes before the Sangeet. When the hot iron touched our daughter’s gown, it sizzled and irreparably damaged the fabric. Meera was in panic. I tried to use our granddaughter’s markers to paint the exposed fabric. This did not work. Our daughter was around and was wondering where we were, but we had to give some excuse while trying to figure out what to do. Finally, Meera remembered that there was a fabric store near where we were staying, so off we went. The gentleman there gave us several options and we settled on purchasing three different paints and a brush. We hurried back and applied the paint. It sort of worked but still the damage was clearly showing. Finally, we told our daughter what had happened. She was nonchalant about it and in the end a solution was found to hide the damage using a cleverly pinned dupatta (scarf).
One of the highlights of Sangeet was a “flash dance” by the entire family to an old Indian song, Ena Meena Dika. This required a lot of preparation. One of my nieces, an accomplished dancer and choreographer, created a video of her dancing to the tune and shared it with the family. This was kept as a secret from the bride and the groom. What followed was the playing of the video in different households and family members practicing the steps. When the time came during Sangeet, the family members got up and danced to the tune. I am a terrible dancer and was trying to find an excuse not to participate. I found it when the father of the groom asked me to shoot a video of the dance. My brother, an equally challenged dancer, took the microphone and lip-synched the song. It was a big hit. The groom and the bride were overwhelmed by emotions.
It was heartwarming to see how many non-Indians in the event (probably about half the number) came dressed in traditional Indian clothing during Sangeet. Not only that, just like our family members, they all had been given “flash mob” assignments. So, in addition to Ena Meena Dika, the DJ (our son-in-law) played three other Bollywood tunes and the folks danced to those. Such enthusiasm.
The brother of the groom, decided to get a tandem bike as a prop to be used during his speech at the wedding reception. There was this metaphor of riding a tandem bike and marriage. So, he acquired a bike on eBay, managed to get it transported to the aquarium, got it valet parked and had it come out at exactly the right moment. It brought an instant applause and the newlyweds were sporty enough to ride it. It finally made its way back to Meera’s sister’s house where it is residing before its fate is decided.
The reception venue abutted a public walkway on the ocean. It was natural for the guests to walk with alcoholic drinks in their hands and cross the walkway to enjoy the view of Boston Harbor. Now, in US of A, one cannot walk around with alcohol in public places (with some exceptions as in Las Vegas or New Orleans). So, as can be expected, a young guy was given responsibility to herd the offending guests back to the venue. He pointed to a line that should not be crossed with a drink in your hand. This went on for the entire evening. One gentleman got quite belligerent with the enforcer, asking to speak to his manager. The poor guy told him that he was doing his job. The rule, however silly it may be, had to be enforced.
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