The Brideless Wedding

Summary: Elizabeth and I are excited to take advantage of the opportunity to attend a pre-marriage function for Praveen, a coworker’s brother. Of course, we get more than we bargained for, and, as usual, find ourselves awkwardly in the center of attention.

We were invited to one of many pre-marriage functions for Praveen, Pratyush’s (coworker) brother and incidentally also principal of Educational Academy, a DSH school. Elizabeth and I arrange a ride with TK, our go-to autorickshaw guy, and we make our way to this open-air venue about 15-20 km from our house.

Elizabeth and I walk “in” dressed in our very best kurtas at 8:30, 30 minutes after the official start time (per the invitation). There are about 300 chairs arranged in rows, facing a decorated stage. Stage right found a small dance floor and a Sikh DJ.

We cautiously sit down in the back row on the ladies’ side, and wait another 30 minutes, at which point we notice a lot of men (but no women) heading toward the food stations. So much food, and yet this was only the beginning. Dinner was to be served after the ceremony.

Pratyush spots us around this time, and leads us to a table in the front, stage left. As if we really need more attention. We make the best of being at the center of attention; luckily, most folks were more drawn by the food. (Though we do see a few village men walking around with rifles strung over their shoulders!) A few snacks here and there, and at around 9:30 (30 minutes before we want to leave), the groom-to-be enters and the rituals begin.

Elizabeth and I, along with about 30 other folks, clamor to the side of the stage to observe. While the series of rituals is being performed, we anxiously await the bride. The rituals continue, but still no indication of the bride to come.

Around 10 pm, Elizabeth and I decide to move to the other side of the stage, as we were opposite the cameras and didn’t want to be in all of the wedding pictures. We both think we should leave (so as to reach home at a reasonable time), but we want to see the bride! It is then that Nikita, Pratyush’s daughter, spots us and pulls us both onto the dance floor. Pratyush notices and tells the DJ to blast the music (it was turned down during the ceremony).

Like deer caught in the headlights, I freeze for about 15 seconds before I realize what is happening. I suddenly can’t hear anything other than Indian music, I find my feet on the wooden dance floor, and I see that the ceremony is still going on.

It all feels wrong. This function isn’t about us. I realize I should know by now that it’s silly to hope I can just hide in the back. But this?

The dance floor has suddenly been surrounded by 30 Indian men, and that the rest of the 300 people in attendance have turned their attention from the stage to us.

I want to run. I want to hide. But, what else can you in a situation like this but oblige? Elizabeth and I took out our cameras, and “danced.” It reminded me of my childhood, when I had to dance and perform on stage. Deliberate, self-conscious movements.

Then the first Indian man steps on stage, and I’m free. I have absolutely no desire to dance “with” any of the guys, and I imagine it’s tabooed. So we inch off the corner of the dance floor, and make a quick escape out the back.

But the damage is already done, and we’ve been caught on tape(s). All of them.

Did I mention we never saw the bride? Turns out this was the tilak, what I understand to be a dowry ceremony. The bride’s brother was performing the rituals on stage with the groom-to-be, and the numerous boxes of sweets and baskets of fruit were part of the dowry. The auto or motorcycle would probably be somewhere in the back. Of course, a tilak. Why would I have the audacity to expect to see the bride at a pre-marriage function?