11.5.11 – The Wedding (Calicut, Kerala, India)
 |
| Bincy in her wedding dress |
The enthusiastic cockerel has been replaced at 5am by the Muslim call to prayer from the Mosque opposite the hotel. Unfortunately, the drugs Catriona was given have not had a chance to take effect, and she’s not in great condition to be bridesmaid at the wedding. After a shower, we help her into her clothes and I go with her to meet Bincy’s dad, who drives us to the house nearby where the bride is being prepared - a pretty house set up a slight slope off the main road, surrounded by palm trees and other vibrant vegetation. Bincy is in a small bedroom, putting on the beautiful satin dress, trimmed with blue beads, which Catriona had worn when she was a bride, six years ago. She has always wanted to give it to another bride, and so, resized and transported to India, here it is. Bincy looks beautiful, her dark skin and gleaming black hair contrasting with the shining white. Catriona and I lace up the back of the dress, hauling on the cords to make sure it stays in position. ‘Can you still breathe, Bincy? Yes? It’s not tight enough then!!’ The house fills with relatives – every time I look round, there are more, milling about, children running, adults talking excitedly. Bincy’s mother Usha swathes Catriona in a beautiful plum and gold sari, her sister places little glittering flowers in her hair. Yet more relatives arrive. We are served rice cakes with sauce and tea in a side room. Catriona is beginning to feel slightly better, and hopes she will be able to make it down the aisle. In the entrance hall cum living room, the family stand in a wide, tightly packed circle, as the priest, who has now arrived as well, begins to pray. Murmured responses, haunting singing – we can only guess at what is being said in Malayam, but we try to join them in spirit.
 | ||
| Calum and Molly with Subhash |
Then Bincy walks down the dusty dry earthen path to the car, pursued by Catriona, attempting to dust off the wide white train of the wedding dress. And then we are off in a torrent of cars, twisting and weaving through the city traffic to the Cathedral. As soon as we swing into the car park, I see Bill, kilted and wearing an open necked traditional Scottish kilt shirt. He must be hot but he doesn’t look it. And there is Calum, similarly clad and holding Molly, in a little white chiffon dress, her red hair shining, ready to carry her little basket of flowers that Usha, Bincy's mum, has prepared. I pass her to Catriona, who is waiting with the bridal party to go down the aisle. The large cathedral is absolutely packed with well wishers. A host of white robed priests huddle around the doorway, Molly is handed her flowers, Bincy’s father Isaac stands with his lovely bridal daughter, the music plays, and the massive procession comes slowly down the aisle to where Subhash is nervously waiting. I kneel at the side ready to take Molly, and she runs across to me and her daddy, who is able to reassure her with chocolate, supplied subtly by Bincy’s sister, Sincy, sitting nearby.
 |
| Catriona with Bincy's parents |
 |
| Bincy, Subhash and the priests |
And so the wedding proceeds. We can’t understand much, but get the sense of occasion and sanctity loud and clear. Catriona, Bill and I have been asked to sing to the congregation, and we make it through two songs – ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ and ‘If religion were a thing that money could buy’, getting the first verse of each horribly wrong but managing to bring it together for the finale. A sea of brown faces stares at us, not a smile among them – apparently you don’t smile in church much here. However, to us, smiling and celebrating God’s love comes naturally, and we smile throughout the singing – I hope we haven’t caused too much offence by the cacophony and the grinning.
Opposite where I am sitting is an arched window, open to the warm air, palm trees and brilliant tropical flowers making a shaded walkway down which a family, mother in a scarlet sari, father in a crisp white shirt and lungi, stroll with two little children running and jumping at their side. It seems to fit with the moment, as a new family is created in front of me, here in lush, colourful and steamy India.
 |
| Stage and thrones |
Soon, the wedding march, and out again in a hubbub of people, to the hot sun of the car park. A friend (Gerald) takes us back to the hotel, so that Molly can get into the cooler air. The reception is to be in the same hotel, so soon we go downstairs. We enter a huge hall full of seats in rows, and a balcony, all of which are crammed with people – about 1,100. Sincy leads us to the very front row, where seats have been saved for us. There’s a stage, set with flowing shining white satin, lights, and the words ‘Subhash with Bincy’ pinned to it. There are two chairs – more like thrones – and an immense four tier cake, elaborately decorated in white, pink, green. There’s excited chatter, a loud musical group playing Indian pop music, waiters at the side ready to serve an immense buffet. Suddenly Cliff Richard is singing ‘Congratulations!’ and Bincy and Subhash emerge and mount the stage to the thrones. Rapturous applause. They step forward to cut the cake, and suddenly some of Subhash’s friends rush forward and cover both bride and groom in white foam – head, shoulders, bridal veil – everything. Huge laughter and cheering. Fortunately I’m told it’s only an ice mixture, and indeed it soon disappears.
 |
| Anil, Sincy and Meg |
 |
| Molly dancing |
The buffet is served, the band plays on, loud Indian music. I’m no good at eating with my fingers, as is traditional here, although Bill and Catriona are by now quite accomplished, so I get hold of a pink plastic spoon. A procession of people go onto the stage to greet the bride and groom, who shake hands with them and pose for photos. This goes on and on, and people leave gradually after they have done this. The hall begins to empty out, but still the queue to shake hands and be photo’d grows and grows. Meanwhile, Molly, now in the little maroon and gold dress that Usha gave her at Christmas, decides to dance. I realise that the Indian music perfectly lends itself to Scottish dance steps, so Molly and I dance together on the floor beside the stage. Soon the vocalist from the band espys us, and comes over, kneeling to sing to Molly, holding out a yellow microphone. A crowd gathers to watch us, people produce cameras and we are famous yet again. Even the official photographer asks to have his photo taken with Molly.
 |
| Bincy and Subhash |
Bincy leaves and changes her white bridal gown for a sari of glowing gold, red and green. She looks lovely, swathed in gold jewellery, and continues the hand shaking. Is this the same nervous young girl I met at Glasgow Airport, eighteen months ago?
At last we go up and greet her and Subhash, hugging them. They look pretty exhausted by this stage. At last they are taken to a separate table and given some food. Then a man starts to dance on the stage, arms flailing, legs kicking. Soon more people have joined him, including the bride and groom. We are encouraged to go up too, and soon a spontaneous melee has developed, Indian and Scottish dancing combined, till the sweat pours off us, discretion takes over, and we leave the stage.
 |
| Catriona in her sari with Calum |
Bincy and her family come over, hug us, and explain that now they must go to a ceremony at Subhash’s family home. The tradition is that Bincy will now be ‘handed over’ to her in-law’s family, to live in his house with his mother. It seems odd to Western eyes, but that is how the culture works here. It has been an exciting and moving day. Our Indian daughter, a married woman, and to an excellent, handsome and caring young man. We are honoured to have been part of such a personal family experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment