Hindu throwdown
Unlike many other All-American boys, I have recently had the honor of being involved in a large Hindu wedding. It all started early on a Saturday morning as I left my private hotel room at 6:00 AM and stumbled my way into the super secret “Groomsmen dressing room.” When I approached it and was about to knock, the door opened up and I recognized the man inside.
“Chops! What’s going on in here?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said as he sipped his coffee and pointed at the closet, where 5 identical Indian “sherwani” suits were hanging. I found the one labeled “Adam” and excitedly dove into the package. I had waited months to see what all the mysterious measurements I had to make would result in. I pulled out a pair of pajama pants and held them up. I was standing straight up and holding my arms out to both sides. The pant legs were still trailing on the ground, and I was looking at a waistline that could have swallowed me whole.
“This can’t be right!” I said.
“Yes it is…you should see MINE.” Chops replied.
Passing on that opportunity, I slipped on the comfy pants and managed to draw the waistline into a comfortable fit. When all the groomsmen were dressed, we made our way down to the secret photo shoot and met the rest of the wedding party.
After the photo shoot, we were told to meet back down at 9:00 for the beginning of the ceremony. When I came back down, I couldn’t find anyone. I searched frantically, and finally saw a very large party way out at the end of the parking lot. The groom and his sister were sitting on the back of a white convertible, while dozens of Indian people started to congregate around them. A large black SUV pulled up and a man got out with a large drum. He flicked a switch and the entire parking lot was blaring with some very loud Indian dance music. Instantly the crowd started to go wild. The drummer was banging the drum and people were dancing all around the car. I kept getting instructed by various old Indian men “you have to keep dancing…get in front of the car!”
I had no idea what was happening, but I was starting to sweat in my sherwani. When I stopped dancing to take a breather, a random old man would push me back into the circle. I felt like I was in a mosh pit for a moment. Finally, the car started to move, very slowly. The drummer kept on marching while beating his drum, while more and more people joined the congregation.
The parade went up to the pavilion, where the ceremony was to take place. As we got closer, I could see that the bridal party had already assembled. The bride was standing in the back, in her jewel crusted dress. However, in front of her stood the bride’s mother and sisters.
“Your new mother in law is giving you the evil stare,” I said to my friend.
“She’s going to get my nose. You have to protect my nose!” he told me.
“Huh? When? How?” I asked.
“Not now. I don’t know,” he replied. He did not seem very confident that he knew what was going on either.
The mother in law came forward, and started putting all this stuff on his face, as the Maharaj instructed her how to proceed with the ritual. I got the feeling that although every Hindu wedding is probably the same, the rituals are so involved that no one really knows what is going on other than the guy performing the ceremony. Even though I was standing by to protect the nose, she never went for it. Maybe we had missed that part of the ceremony.
The drummer kept playing and the crowd was pushing us farther forward. Finally the bride came out to put a big wreath around his neck. Another random old Indian man instructed us to lift the groom up onto our shoulders. As soon as we did, a gang of men rushed us. The groom started screaming “get my shoes, dude! Don’t let them take my shoes!”
But before I knew what was going on, the men had stolen one of his shoes and given it to the bride. I did not know the significance of that, but it sounded bad.
When the pre-wedding rituals were completed, the drummer stopped playing and we were finally allowed to relax and drink some sweet tasting milkshakes. More and more people were congregating into the large hall. We were told to go and meet up with the bridal party for the more contemporary American wedding entrance. However, when I went back into the hall to get more drinks, another random old Indian man started trying to pull me towards the front of the hall. “You have to be up on stage!” he said to me.
“Um…I thought we’re supposed to walk in with the bridesmaids.”
“No, no…up on stage!” he kept pursuing me. I tried to back away, and as he was quickly distracted by another person, I slipped out the back door and into the waiting room, were I found the rest of the groomsmen, bridesmaids, and the bride. While we were waiting, more old Indian men came in to try to get us to come on the stage.
“No!” the bride yelled “THEY are walking in with MY girls!”
The men suddenly looked very scared, and finally understood who was running the show.
Once we escorted the bridesmaids to the stage, our role was pretty much complete. Apparently in Hindu weddings, the groomsmen are just there for support, while the family plays a much larger role in the actual ceremony. Still, we were allowed to sit on the stage and take part in small roles. At various moments, and small old woman would quietly whisper commands to us. It was no problem, I was just relieved that it wasn’t another old Indian man.