February has been a months of firsts--my first trip to India, a virgin post on Blogspot, and the only time I've ever worn a bindi (or, as my dad described it upon seeing my travel photos, "that sparkly dot between your eyebrows and above your nose."). I've had a good time regaling San Francisco friends about seeing Ms. Bhatia in Raipur, Bhilai and Delhi, and riding on her pink Scooty was the motivation I needed to start looking seriously into a Vespa purchase.
A Wednesday wedding was a perfect way to celebrate my first 48 hours in Pooj's home away from home. Although I didn't get mendhi on my hands until Jaipur, we had a blast stocking up for the night at a mall with Western-style lattes and a big box store where I bought a plastic Ganesh and a DVD set of Shah Rukh Khan's greatest films.
We suited up at a forgettable hotel and tried to track down the Bharath, which we heard before we saw. A mobile DJ, fireworks, and 50 of the groom's family members and friends singing as they made their way to the outdoor wedding ceremony were hard to miss. I loved seeing the women walking with massive lightboxes on their heads as we approached (though I worry about their necks).
We arrived to find a beautifully decked out bride, pounds of fried food, and a light-up dance floor primarily used by men and boys age seven to 30. What wasn't to love? The other guests' attire ranged from rich colored saris to jeans (in the contradictory nature of many things I found in India, the brother of the groom was the one wearing denim while the husband-to-be was covered in gold fabric).
Halfway through the event, which can't truly be called a ceremony or a reception as the couple is being married while their guests eat and dance, two young gentlemen came up to us with a wrapped package. Assuming they had to leave early and wanted us to give the couple their gift, I took it, which made Pooj nudge me and whisper, "Say thank you...it's for you." We opened it back at the hotel to discover that it was a secondhand English copy of the Koran (I guess I really have "Midwestern Christian" written all over me), but not before we accepted the gents' offer to take us back on their motorcycles.
We took bucket baths and recalled what was possibly the most fun sober wedding of all time. Pooj said she saw me sleeping with a smile on my face--honestly, who wouldn't be after getting a colorful new outfit for a wedding for $12 and dancing the night away with 500 of their furthest friends?
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