Wedding Season Part 2

It seems that the 20-second wrap-pleat-tuck-and-drape sequence that looked so effortless in the shop must come with a lifetime of practice. They had offered to sew in the pleats for me, but that sounded like it would be taking away from the authenticity of the experience. The offer of sending someone to the hotel to dress me, also sounded a little too indulgent. Imagine braving the Delhi traffic for a 20-second duty.

Well, getting into the sari in my hotel room was a rather more complicated process than I thought. The person, who housekeeping sent up after my frantic call, was as flummoxed by the slippery, heavily-embroidered material, in spite of being dressed in a sari herself. Hers, part of the uniform, was a much simpler, lighter affair but she confessed that she arrived at work an hour earlier to dress. Half an hour, some compromise and many safety pins later, I reasonably resembled the real thing.  I decided to leave my camera behind at the hotel, unsure of how I would manage taking photographs while trying to negotiate my way around without stepping onto my sari and coming undone.

My daughter, who was dressed in a sort of Indo-Western fashion, didn't have the same navigation concerns and could wield her camera more easily. Our first function was the Sangeet, attended by about 2 000 guests. I alternated between gawking at all the beautiful people around me and at the decorations. Flowers adorned every surface, competing for attention with colourful chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. There was enough lights, music and dancers with bare midriffs for a Bollywood movie set. It took us at least an hour to distinguish the bride and groom amongst all the other leading stars gathered around.

In spite of all the glitz and glamour, the evening was relaxed and friendly and we made many new friends who had also been wandering around gawking, to keep us company over the following few days of celebration. At the end of the evening, heaving a sigh of relief that I had not unravelled, I leaned over sideways and flopped into the back of the car...not quite as Grace Kelly would have done it. 

Wedding Season

It's wedding season in India - not too hot, not too cold, just right.  We are having the full experience, starting with shopping for the right clothes to wear to a wedding. This is a rather more complicated process than popping into a boutique and buying what catches your eye. 

Already overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of Delhi I might have turned tail and run off when presented by four floors of shopping at Frontier Raas. Luckily, we had the able services of Sumeet, who knew exactly what we needed."Green is such a Mehndi colour." and "Black will be good for an evening wedding."  I was happy to be guided. 

Once we were settled in with tea and biscuits, the viewing began. Before long there was a pile of possibilities in front of us. How is it possible that there are so many choices and combinations? Not only was I distracted by what was in front of me, but people behind me and next to me seemed to be viewing the most sought after fabrics too. 

    

                                                 

All around us people were faced with a similar dilemma. Perhaps draping the sari would help? Quick as a flash an assistant had me standing on a little raised platform in front of the mirror, with a cord tied around my waist, while he deftly folded pleats and started winding fabric around my body. I stared at the reflection of a graceful, slimmer me. I should wear saris all the time! For those men who were buying saris, for their daughters or wives, I presumed, the assistants were only too willing to drape themselves. 

                                                          

Three hours later, having been offered Starbucks (we have one just down in the road!) and something to eat, we emerged happy with our purchases. Some bargaining had to be entered into in order to have our blouses and skirts sewn. "Tomorrow is not possible. How about two days time and delivered to your hotel!" And if we were not sure about how to drape the sari, someone could be sent to the hotel to help.

Oh, maybe  I should have gone with the fuschia and orange instead...

A Mezcla of a Wedding

Last week I attended a real mezcla of a wedding. In Spanish mezcla means a blend, a mixture or a medley. Spanish, Jewish, Catholic, South African and American cultures came together in what I like to think of as a new South Africa celebration. The bride, a friend’s daughter, is Jewish/South African/American, while the groom is Basque and Catholic.

A female rabbi, Dr Azila Reisenberger, was performing the ceremony and she took care to explain the meaning and origins of the different rituals that formed part of the union. The bride’s parents walked her down the aisle accompanied by a traditional Basque tune to the chuppah  or canopy under which the ceremony took place.

We had a little giggle when the rabbi asked the groom to identify his bride when the veil was lifted. This, the rabbi explained, has its origins in biblical times when Jacob, who was in love with Rachel, was tricked into marrying the wrong sister after working for their father for 7 years in lieu of a dowry!

The part of the ceremony that I loved was where each person in the retinue read out a blessing to the married couple and poured a little wine into a silver cup. By the time 8 people had done this, the “cup was running over” with blessings and it was given to the couple to drink from and share with their parents. Then it was time for a Jewish song and after the signing of the register, the groom’s sister played the flute while her father did a traditional Basque dance for the couple.

We followed the bridal party down through the vineyards (stopping to nibble on biltong and nuts) to the reception hall where a marimba band contributed the South African flavour.

Mazeltov! to these young people who have embraced the differences in each others’ cultures and traditions and at the same time enriched everyone at the wedding with the opportunity to be a part of a beautiful medley.