The Wedding
Me and the groom’s nephew, Chetanya.
Every American I knew in India wanted to be invited to an Indian wedding. And I was! I was lucky enough to know a former Fulbrighter and current Fulbright Ambassador Danixia Cuevas, who has been in Delhi at the same law school, National Law University Delhi, and who somehow found an amazing driver named Henry Bhai. Lucky for me, Henry thoughtfully planned his wedding in mid-February when I could attend.
Henry was marrying his high school sweetheart Tanu, and I was given several weeks notice on which weekend the wedding would occur, and then was finally texted the formal wedding invitation a few days beforehand.
By mid-February, I felt I had had a pretty solid introduction to Indian culture, and confidently told people that I was invited to a wedding reception at 6 p.m., (the actual Christian wedding had occurred a few days before in a court) but that I knew it wouldn’t start on time. Excited, I got instructions on where and how to purchase a sari, got my landlord’s maid to help me put it on, ordered an Uber, and arrived to the reception MUCH later than the assigned time — by about 6:30.
If you are Indian and you are reading this, I imagine you are laughing right now. I was the first one there, except for Henry’s brother-in-law and the brother-in-law’s son, Chetanya. In the same spirit as Guest Is God, no one made fun of me. Rather, the reception staff brought me a beautiful glass of soda, and 11-year-old Chetanya, at the urging of his father, sat down next to me and asked me very intelligent questions in very fluent English about just about everything — what did I think of Biden, would he win the next election, what did I think of Trump, why was America so rich, was I rich? How many places had I travelled to, what was the crux of the American economy, what did Americans know about India . . . We laughed and learned from each other and chatted for about 2 hours (and the one question Chetanya never asked was why I was so early to the wedding reception!).
By about 8:30, people started to trickle in, and by about 9:30, the groom and the bride appeared.
The dancing was incredible, with very danceable music (I’m told it was a lot of Punjabi and Bollywood) and Henry’s sisters and friends pulling me out to the dance floor (not that I needed much encouragement). I made new friends, danced until my feet were very sore, and had many, many helpings of paneer tikka, dahl makhanee, murg makhanee, jeera rice, and naan. It was a great outing for my first time wearing a sari.
