Taj-tastic Team Ranj
My 24th (or the night before). Ok, Jamil might be over 5'.
ROAR! (Team Ranj's mascot is a lion)
Our mighty steeds.
After the desert, Chennai greeted us like a moist slap in the face - it had been raining for three days even though we are in the midst of the dry/hot season. It has been a hectic first week back with several trips to the hospital, a wedding, a fundraising trip to Sumathy's old company, plus Kate and I were knocked on our asses one after the other by several more of India's gut attacks.
But I have to mention more about the wedding because this one was particularly amusing. It had been a really long day at the orphanage, none of us had any clean outfits and we were not in any mood to go anywhere and smile awkwardly. We trooped up anyway and put on our least dirty salwar kamiz (a long tunic over matching aladdin-ish pants with a scarf worn to obscure the view of your boobs), and some bangles to try and look presentable. Weddings are a HUGE deal in India; families will spend entire fortunes marrying off their daughters and the shame of not doing it properly (with fancy enough food, a big enough wedding venue, new wedding sarees and jewellry for all female members, music, fireworks, etc, etc, etc) or not being able to do it at all is enough to drive people to suicide. It sounds like one of those dramatic phrases but seriously, people will kill themselves over it. I get the impression that that is more common in rural areas, but with the 7 million + people in Chennai's greater area there are always multiple suicide listings everyday in the paper. Weddings with over 1,000 guests are considered standard, 50,000 is not unheard if you're really important. Anyway, we rolled up in our autorickshaw looking pretty unimpressive in front of this towering wedding venue all lit up with Vegas-style blinking lights. Ranjith's good friend was getting married the following morning, and they celebrate the reception before the ceremony, when the bulk of the party occurs. And by party I mean the couple stands on an elaborately decorated stage and greets each guest and takes a photo with them, without smiling. I'm not sure why they don't smile. I guess if I had to hold a grin for four hours of shaking hands my face would get tired, too. I've seen the fruit of these cameramen's work at a few homes now - everyone has mountains of customized photo albums full of these pictures where the bride and groom's heads are floating in clouds with catchy English phrases like 'Great Day' and 'Have a Nice Day' written in fancy fonts on top. Other cameramen walk around and film the audience, who sip juice, watch this slow conga line of well-wishers, and pretend that this hot, blinding camera light is not two feet from their faces. We've been to three weddings now, and have been the freak side show attraction at each circus.
Ranjith ushered us toward some seats, where some people turned their attention away from the procession to eye up the three tall, sweaty and pale foreignors. I was given some delicious fresh-made juice, and tried to lean away from the four balloons the little kids behind me were rubbing into my hair. A couple of performers sang upbeat Tamil songs to a synthesizer turned up to a deafening volume. The lights were blinking, the women looked beautiful in gold-threaded saree's, matching bangles and bindis and their thick hair oiled in perfect braids, and there was a person standing in the doorway dressed up in a Mickey Mouse-like costume, except that the body had a huge belly and a shrunken head with eyes that looked like the masked killer in the movie Scream. Creepy wedding circus.
Then, to perfect the illusion, we were handed a small bag of popcorn and cotton candy. We started giggling uncontrollably at the ridiculous of the situation, Ranjith turned around, laughed and told us that only children are given those snacks. As soon as we had made a proper mess of ourselves with it, the camera guy swooped in and filmed us awkwardly eating it. Then, like the true VIPs we are (?), we got to skip the line and congratulate the bride and groom and have our picture taken. Then we got to cut in line for food, too, where the head of the catering company hovered over our us and our banana leave plates, making sure "are you enjoying it?" and "would you like some more rice, sambar, paysum?" The groom's father, also a good friend of Ranjith's and a ridiculously nice man, came over to meet us and make sure we enjoyed the ice cream. Of course, the camera man was there to film us with our mouths open again, enjoying even more food. Then it was back upstairs for another cut in line and a photo with the groom's father and the happy, but unsmiling, couple.
It is really amazing that we've had the privilege of going to all these weddings. It is also really amazing that everyone has been as kind to us as they've been, what with our faux-pas of smiling for photos, never wearing our scarves correctly, tripping over our sarees, not being able to finish all our food and that first time when I threw the rose petals on the newly-weds with my left hand (the dirty hand, whoops).
But I have to mention more about the wedding because this one was particularly amusing. It had been a really long day at the orphanage, none of us had any clean outfits and we were not in any mood to go anywhere and smile awkwardly. We trooped up anyway and put on our least dirty salwar kamiz (a long tunic over matching aladdin-ish pants with a scarf worn to obscure the view of your boobs), and some bangles to try and look presentable. Weddings are a HUGE deal in India; families will spend entire fortunes marrying off their daughters and the shame of not doing it properly (with fancy enough food, a big enough wedding venue, new wedding sarees and jewellry for all female members, music, fireworks, etc, etc, etc) or not being able to do it at all is enough to drive people to suicide. It sounds like one of those dramatic phrases but seriously, people will kill themselves over it. I get the impression that that is more common in rural areas, but with the 7 million + people in Chennai's greater area there are always multiple suicide listings everyday in the paper. Weddings with over 1,000 guests are considered standard, 50,000 is not unheard if you're really important. Anyway, we rolled up in our autorickshaw looking pretty unimpressive in front of this towering wedding venue all lit up with Vegas-style blinking lights. Ranjith's good friend was getting married the following morning, and they celebrate the reception before the ceremony, when the bulk of the party occurs. And by party I mean the couple stands on an elaborately decorated stage and greets each guest and takes a photo with them, without smiling. I'm not sure why they don't smile. I guess if I had to hold a grin for four hours of shaking hands my face would get tired, too. I've seen the fruit of these cameramen's work at a few homes now - everyone has mountains of customized photo albums full of these pictures where the bride and groom's heads are floating in clouds with catchy English phrases like 'Great Day' and 'Have a Nice Day' written in fancy fonts on top. Other cameramen walk around and film the audience, who sip juice, watch this slow conga line of well-wishers, and pretend that this hot, blinding camera light is not two feet from their faces. We've been to three weddings now, and have been the freak side show attraction at each circus.
Ranjith ushered us toward some seats, where some people turned their attention away from the procession to eye up the three tall, sweaty and pale foreignors. I was given some delicious fresh-made juice, and tried to lean away from the four balloons the little kids behind me were rubbing into my hair. A couple of performers sang upbeat Tamil songs to a synthesizer turned up to a deafening volume. The lights were blinking, the women looked beautiful in gold-threaded saree's, matching bangles and bindis and their thick hair oiled in perfect braids, and there was a person standing in the doorway dressed up in a Mickey Mouse-like costume, except that the body had a huge belly and a shrunken head with eyes that looked like the masked killer in the movie Scream. Creepy wedding circus.
Then, to perfect the illusion, we were handed a small bag of popcorn and cotton candy. We started giggling uncontrollably at the ridiculous of the situation, Ranjith turned around, laughed and told us that only children are given those snacks. As soon as we had made a proper mess of ourselves with it, the camera guy swooped in and filmed us awkwardly eating it. Then, like the true VIPs we are (?), we got to skip the line and congratulate the bride and groom and have our picture taken. Then we got to cut in line for food, too, where the head of the catering company hovered over our us and our banana leave plates, making sure "are you enjoying it?" and "would you like some more rice, sambar, paysum?" The groom's father, also a good friend of Ranjith's and a ridiculously nice man, came over to meet us and make sure we enjoyed the ice cream. Of course, the camera man was there to film us with our mouths open again, enjoying even more food. Then it was back upstairs for another cut in line and a photo with the groom's father and the happy, but unsmiling, couple.
It is really amazing that we've had the privilege of going to all these weddings. It is also really amazing that everyone has been as kind to us as they've been, what with our faux-pas of smiling for photos, never wearing our scarves correctly, tripping over our sarees, not being able to finish all our food and that first time when I threw the rose petals on the newly-weds with my left hand (the dirty hand, whoops).
1 comment:
:))Good narration from a foreigner's perspective.
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