Wedding Crashers

Before I go into an elaborate description of my wedding crashing escapadeS, I want to give one quick image of India for you to try to wrap your mind around, something I've seen everyday at the exact same time since I've arrived in Jaisalmer: a little boy walks outside, wearing a wool turtle neck sweater and no pants, and takes a shit in the gutter, which is constantly running milky grey water. Across from the boy is a small calf, tied up in a cage with about 3 feet of rope, with two shrines inside for people to pray to. India man, India.
OK, now onto wedding crashing. It all started about a week ago, in the capital of Rajistan, Jaipur. I met a guy who told me it was wedding season in Rajistan, and that he had attended a wedding in some small village. Wedding season! I was excited. So the next day, I walked down to the lobby of our hostel which was attached to a massive hotel, and sure enough, in the large garden, were about 100 Indian men, women and children, sitting around, celebrating a wedding. I was curious and intrigued, and decided to walk into the garden and see what was going on. We had to catch a bus for Pushkar in an hour, so I knew I had to be quick. Basically, I wanted to see if it was possible to penetrate the cultural, language, and racial barriers, and get accepted into the ceremony
So I walked in with a camera in hand, a big smile on my face, and a total get-after-it mentality in my head. Within seconds, no exaggeration, seconds, of setting myself up for a good camera shot, several men grabbed me and jolted me into the middle of the white blanket that the immediate family was sitting on. People starting yelling, and all eyes were on me. Another grabbed the woman who was applying some red dye and seeds to the BRIDE's forehead, and put her in front of me to perform the ceremonial ritual. Wedding crashing was a definite possibility, I decided.
Fast forward a couple days later (by me only focusing on wedding crashing in this blog post, I am completely ignoring the entire week we spent in what has been one of my favorite cities so far, Pushkar. Basically all we did there was hang out, so I guess there's not much to write about). Anyways, we're walking from our favorite laffa stand (an Israeli food), where we had just eaten dinner, to our friends' hotel. On the way, I see a large, large, building, which from the outside (and I later found out the inside) could pass as a prison or insane asylum in the US. I hear loud music, and see lots of people gathered outside, and decide it's probably a wedding, and I should probably go inside. So inside I went, alone, because none of the 4 friends I was with were adventurous enough to venture into these unchartered waters.
I was greeted with a mixed reception. Several people sitting by the entrance explicitly told me to leave, but I figured since they were sitting by the entrance rather than actively participating in the ceremony, they weren't that important, and thus, it didn't really matter what they thought. And besides, this is wedding crashing. If it was easy, then they'd call it wedding attending. I wasn't going to give up that easily.
I walked upstairs and spotted a large room, about the size of a basketball court, with a DJ, a dance floor, and lots of people. In one corner was the bride and groom, seated on a bench, and in front of them were about 150 women and children, the men standing outside the room on a balcony which overlooked the large outdoor center of the building. Several young people approached me, asking about where I was from, what I did, etc.. The conversation was flowing; several minutes later I found myself surrounded by 10 college aged guys who were all studying to be accountants, none of whose names I could remember. Soon, a man approached me and grabbed me out of the crowd. His name was Arun, and he was the groom's older brother. Mission accomplished. He befriended me, and explained to me that this was just the first of three nights of wedding celebrations for the bride and groom. He told me that the groom, his brother, was a multi millionaire (in dollars? rupees?) manufacturing window panes, and that he was a lawyer, a judge, and a politician. He also said his family owned a hotel, gave me a card, and told me I should meet him for lunch tomorrow. And most importantly, he insisted that I come back tomorrow night, for the wedding, and that I should bring my friends.
I left soon after my work was complete, as I was uninterested in the speeches in Hindi, especially since there was no food in sight. I explained to Sam and my other friends what had happened, and informed them of the wedding we had to attend the next night.
The next day passed quickly. We realized it was only the second time in the last two months that we had an actual commitment to a certain time (not including buses, trains, or planes to catch). And still, we were late. We arrived at the wedding hall around 615. While Sam and the two Brits we were with appeared a bit trepidatious, their disposition quickly disappeared after I was greeted by name within thirty seconds of walking in, by four different groups of people. We learned that a parade was about to begin, which went through town and to the bride's house to escort her back to the wedding. So we left with some of our friends, and set out with the parade. The parade was a procession of about 300 people, not including the 45 piece band. Running along each side of the procession were young teenagers spaced about 10 feet apart from each other, each holding a 3 foot tall lamp with several fluorescent bulbs exuding a bright blue light. In the back were two carts holding generators for the lamps, each being pushed by several men. And just in front of the generators was the groom, dressed head to toe in a white suit covered with jewels, riding a white horse which also was covered in jewels. The parade lasted nearly an hour and a half, and on several occasions we were brought to the front to dance with my old friends the accountants.
We got tired after a while, and decided to leave the parade and grab some chai. We sipped our chai for a while, talking again to the crazy cake baker from last post, and decided by now the procession would probably be back at the wedding. So we returned to the wedding, this time walking to the other entrance. This side of the building had an outdoor terrace which was about 300 by 300 feet. The entire area was lined with crazy light displays. Surrounding each wall was no less than 30 stands, which were all now serving food. In the center were several large beautiful sculpture type things, made out of something that resembled plastic. And in front was a massive stage, with a beautiful jeweled bench resting in the middle in front of large red curtains. The food had started to be served, and knowing how aggressive Indian people can be, and fearing a short supply, I jumped in. I started eating, and realized that I was not receiving the same type of positive attention I had received earlier. I looked around, and saw that all eyes within a 30 foot radius were now on me, shoving vegetable noodles in my face. I wasn't worried- by this time I knew I was more than welcome at the wedding, so I simply looked around for one of the 50 people I had already met and exchanged names with (none of which I could remember). However, I couldn't seem to recognize anyone. So I looked at my friends, and their expressions of perplexity seemed to convey to me the exact same thing as I was thinking- is this the same wedding? People started approaching me, and asking various questions in Hindi and broken English. I kept replying "Arun, I am friends with Arun," but it didn't seem to hold any credibility with the new audience. So, I decided I wasn't yet welcome with this crowd, and that I would have to begin the same schmoozing and bullshitting skills I had done so successfully the night before. So schmooz and bullshit we did, and soon enough, we had a crowd of fifty people surrounding us, taking pictures, asking questions, and shoving food in our faces. As the crowd grew, so did the status of those surrounding us. The bride's father began shooting a fifteen minute movie of us simply standing in one place. He walked us around, introducing us to his relatives and friends. Turns out, the entire groom's family and friends had left on the parade, and the bride's family arrived soon after their departure to begin the party, which explains why we thought we were in a completely different wedding when we first arrived. Mission double accomplished, we were now guests of both sides of the wedding.
The procession was about to arrive back at the wedding. The bride's father and several other men grabbed us and brought us to the entrance. They placed baskets of flowers into our hands, and instructed us to hand them out as people entered. Before the procession arrived, the three photographers and two videographers took several minutes of pictures of us with the entire bride's family. "You are now part of the family" we were told. Holy shit.
The procession entered, and like everything else in India, it became madness. The band's noise was ear drum-shattering. People trampled through each other like a wild stampede. Tables and chairs were crushed, and it was a mad rush to enter through the gates. The videographers, as if their pay was contingent on having a continuous video feed of the groom, jumped from place to person to chair, violently knocking anyone who stood, or who had been pushed on the ground, in his path. Everyone remained completely peaceful and celebratory however, and both the bride and groom's immediate family appeared unharmed in the entire skirmish.
People managed to file in and take their places on the grass. The attention level around us (on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the highest) had increased from a 13 to a 20. It was near overwhelming, yet really, really funny. We were now being grabbed and brought in front of the stage to dance with a group of very overly excited young men. Having rocked many Camp Horseshoe socials, I had no difficulty dancing with the dudes. For an hour and a half, we (were forced) to dance to the upbeat Bollywood trance techno music. Like in Vietnam, I brought out the going fishing, the shopping cart, the C walk, the harlem shake, and some other crazy dance moves I've picked up over the years. The Indians could not get enough of all this. They especially loved the lawn mower, the disco walk, and by far the best, the flamingo (I'm not sure what it's called, but it's a Shoe trademark and a signal with my friends back home). By this time, I had worked up a full sweat, and was feeling exhausted. It didn't help that every 30 seconds another small Indian kid would grab me and forcefeed me one of the many Indian sweets or dishes. I snuck out of the dancing circle, and settled around the wedding ceremony in the other corner for some rest.
I was immediately spotted, however, by a young man with a blue scarf, who wrapped it around me and dragged me back to dance. "No!" I jokingly pleaded, but I had no choice. So I danced for several more minutes until my physical demeanor conveyed to those around me that I would have no more dancing. The wedding ceremony took place in a corner, and then the bride and groom were brought on stage to put flower necklaces around each other. They then were seated on the bench, and we were the first ones brought up for pictures. We thanked the bride and groom, and gave them our gift of 200 rupees (4 dollars) as well as some American flag pins. They enjoyed it, but were nowhere near excited of our presence as the rest of the wedding was, possibly because it was their wedding. We said our farewells around 11, as we heard that the wedding would go on until 1, and were at this point very tired. Walking out, we hardly spoke. We just laughed and smiled, and giddily returned to the hotel, knowing that we had just crashed a wedding!
We're taking an 18 hour train tomorrow to Mumbai, and fly to Prague the 17th. The train will probably be our last experience of real hardcore India of this trip, something that I will surely miss. So next time we speak; I'll be in cold weather, hanging out with my brother, eating food that doesn't make sick, showering in showers that don't make me dirtier, shitting on toilets rather than squatting, and back to the Western world and out of the madness of India. I'm excited for some things, but I'll definitely miss the zoo!