FURTHER: A TRAVEL BLOG: BIKRAM’S WEDDING

Weddings are a joyous occasion no matter what the circumstances. In America, it is the culmination and formalization of love. However, in India, many marriages are arranged. I used to have major reservations about this system but after meeting many couples in India that were the successful products of an arranged marriage, my prejudice has changed. In an arranged marriage, parents and family choose your mate and who knows you better? Anyway, please read on as we go to Bikram’s wedding.

Traditional mehndi designs for Indian weding

Clouds of choking dust illuminated by headlights of hundreds of cars crawl along a rough dirt road. We follow hazy bright red taillights glowing like the eyes of giant cats in the night. Ahead, the haze takes on a surreal glow turning from white to red then blue. The line of cars slows. We approach a brightly lit red and white tent towering 30 feet above the dusty road. Pulling in to a dirt parking lot we exit and stumble over a rough path to enter the tent. We pass through a corridor of billowing drapery which opens out into a gigantic tent spanning at least 50,000 square feet. Tables, chairs and lounging couches are sprawled under the brightly lit pavilion.

The grand pavillion

With our new found friend Carina, Deb and I find a table on the edge of the melee far from the speakers booming out what I can only describe as techno-Punjabi. We sit and are immediately surrounded by waiters plying us with small dishes of curry, tandoori chicken and fish, and other small dishes of unidentifiable stuff that tastes really good. Other waiters offer scotch and beer. Every thirty seconds another waiter presents us with another tidbit. Somehow hungry after the previous three meals of the day, we down everything in sight. After 30 minutes of stuffing ourselves, we catch our breath and look around. Surrounding the huge tent is a five acre complex bordered with a continuous line of food stations offering everything from a full thali dinner to the variety of snacks we just gorged on and some we missed. In one corner a live show features choreographed Punjabi dancers gyrating to the booming music.

It is the final night of festivities for Bikram’s wedding. Somehow we have survived a four day, almost non-stop party. Endless meals coupled with scotch and water have left us exhausted and more than a little hung over, but exhilarated from the parties and all the new and wonderful people we have met. But mostly, we are overwhelmed by the hospitality of the Singh family. Deb and I were provided with a private brand new suite of rooms. We were treated like visiting royalty. Amarjit, Bikram’s father, even arranged a VIP trip to the local border crossing where we were escorted to front row velvet seats for the nightly border closing. (Refer to the post on Waga from my 2010 blog on India for full details of this ceremony) After the ceremony we were ushered into the VIP lounged and plied with tea and snacks.

Indian border guards at attention

High stepping border guard

High stepping Pakistani border guard

Deb, Carina, Bikram and Richard pose with the Indian border guards

Indian border monument

While sipping an ice cold beer, I reflected on the morning when we attended the formal wedding of Bikram and his new bride Jess. Resplendent in traditional Punjabi dress, Bikram and his bride took their formal vows in the gudwara (temple) attended by about 100 friends and family. After the requisite four trips around the altar they were pronounced husband and wife and we retired to the courtyard for our third meal of the day.

The Singh family, Amerjit, Bikram, Karan, Gorindar

Bikram and Jess circle the altar

My reverie was broken by the arrival of Bikram and Jess whose entrance was displayed on several video screens hung around the tent. Like reigning monarchs they proceeded across the compound to be seated on thrones near the stage. After holding court for about two hours, Deb and I decided it was time to rescue them so we went over and invited them to dance. Amarjit interceded as there were a few more photo ops, so Deb and I went to the empty dance floor and started to shake it up. We were soon joined by a mob of people who helped us remember the Punjabi dances that we had learned at the Indian wedding we had attended three years ago. I believe I danced with every man, woman and child there.

Deb doing the Punjabi

Fueled by scotch, beer and lots of delicious snacks we danced until the small hours of the morning. With only a handful of guests left we were escorted into an adjacent hall where we were fed our fifth meal of the day with free flowing alcohol and beer. Delirious with fatigue, food, and drink we were finally transported through quiet dark streets back to Amarjit’s house where we grabbed a few hours sleep before our flight to Sri Lanka.