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Any Excuse to Wear a Sari

I’ve covered the experiences of the engaged wedding guest and the about-to-be married wedding guest.  This weekend is my first go at being a married wedding guest.

I would have worried about going to a wedding only a few days after my two month anniversary dredging up unpleasant comparisons and regrets about my own wedding, were it not for two things: 1) My wedding was the miggity miggity mack of weddings 2) This weekend’s wedding is an Indian wedding, and everyone knows that Indians have the best weddings.  Each culture in the world can claim indisputable bragging rights on something they do better than everybody else—Brazilians are the heavyweight champs of serving meat on swords, the French are the best at being improbably thin, and Americans are the best at triumphantly chanting the abbreviated form of their country’s name.  Indians are the best at weddings.  Don’t even try to deny it.

I tried so, so hard to avoid being an Ugly American as a guest at this Indian wedding, but there were times I couldn’t help but gawk at the spectacle (I was not alone, the two hotel towers surrounding the courtyard where the ceremony was held were dotted with onlookers peering out their windows).  It’s not just that the customs are different (of course, they are, and I’ll get to that in a paragraph), it’s that the scale is so much bigger than any wedding I’ve ever been to.   I’ve been to uber-fancy weddings where every possible chance to demonstrate opulence is exploited to its full gold-plated potential.  I’ve been to huge weddings where everyone from third cousins to the first grade teacher of the bride was invited.  But I’ve never been to a huge, uber-fancy wedding… with a full three-day itinerary of events.

Today’s schedule of events included the wedding ceremony proper, Anand Karaj. Even though I’ve never been to a Sikh religious service of any kind, I can honestly say I was no more confused at this wedding than I am at any given Christian wedding service.  Sure, I don’t speak a word of Punjabi, but it was easier to figure out when to stand and when to bow than it is for me at Catholic weddings.  And whereas at a Catholic wedding I have to respectfully decline the snack because I’m not baptised, at this wedding the priest handed everyone a lump of sacred cookie dough at the end!

I’m sorry.  I’m trying so hard not to be horrifically disrespectful here.  But being a guest an Indian wedding really brought home to me how strange wedding traditions can seem from the outside.  Sure, I was bewildered to see how much mischievous joy the bride’s family got out of stealing the groomsmen’s shoes (and how disappointed they were when the white American guys in the bridal party gave up their shoes without much fight).  But I’m guessing if I grew up Indian I’d be pretty confused at a Western wedding when the bride and groom shove dessert into each other’s faces, or when the bride dramatically hurled an expensive flower arrangement at a throng of screaming women.

But there are certain things that are universal when it comes to weddings. An inescapable feeling of joy and community.  Love between the bride and groom that is almost palpable.  Pride and gratitude from the happy couple’s families.  The religious and cultural differences are completely eclipsed by these similarities.  Weddings are a heady magic no matter what form they take. Love and best wishes to the happy couple, and gratitude for welcoming me and Collin to this fabulous wedding.

Have you ever been to a wedding with traditions from a culture unfamiliar to you?