AT THE HEART OF AN INDIAN MARRIAGE

Today, rummaging through my hard drive, I found the photos of my trip to India and I quickly gave in to the urge to immerse myself in the images of the wedding of Kinny, my Indian friend met in Erasmus. In a flash, everything re-explodes in my face: the dance, the perfumes, the colors, the laughter and the floods of emotions that gripped us during these three days of ceremony. I first remember the joy of receiving months in advance the invitation drawn by my former roommate who was about to marry the one she was talking about so much with sparkles in her eyes and emotion in her voice. We didn't hesitate for a second, we would do everything to find ourselves, this January 2011, in his country, to attend this crucial event. And we were not disappointed.

Welcomed like kings, pampered by our dear friend and her family, pampered by uncles, aunts, cousins, we had nothing to worry about. When we arrived in Ahmedabad, my friend's adorable mother had rummaged through the cupboards of the house to pull out about fifteen outfits for us, which she then spread out on the bed for us to choose our adornment for the first part. of the ceremony. Golden bras, intertwined tops, embroidered tank tops, light skirts that twirl up to our ankles, stoles, our eyes widened before so many pretty ornaments. But we don't smoke in the middle of our surprises: for the big day, in fact, there's no question of being dressed in Western style! We had then trudged into a small shop where sleep quietly, lined up on their shelves, hundreds of multicolored saris just waiting to find their happy owner. We spent hours admiring the fabrics, the fine craftsmanship, trying on the delicate fabrics to choose the one we would wear at the celebration, Kinny's sublime offering.

A few days later, still under the enchantment of this tale from the Arabian Nights, we put on our first outfit and captured the essence of the party that was already taking shape in people's minds: the cousins ​​arrived little by little and we we were lounging peacefully in the garden. In the street, a group of musicians dressed all in blue was singing a new tune, improvising a circle dance, clapping their hands, humming and laughing, carrying us all away in a whirlwind where we cheerfully followed the rhythm. The men seemed busy in a corner of the garden, some simmering to go drink a drop of alcohol to give heart to the belly: in the state of Gujarat, that of Gandhi, alcohol is not allowed. The women were busy with a curious occupation,piti i .  It would seem that it also brings luck to those who are not yet promised to marriage. Oops, I had just spread it over my arms, causing hilarity among the audience and concern for my companion.

Improvised street dance

Then, we sat down around a Hindu priest, and the first blessings began in a small committee before all ending between the meticulous fingers of a young woman who painted us with magnificent henna designs. The meal was taken quietly in a serene atmosphere, visibly waiting for the sun to set to launch the festivities. A fire was then lit, and the first performances began: the aunts embarked on a touching choreography, Ragny the young sister showed us her dancing skills, the bride-to-be amazed us with her ease, the music followed one another and here we are. on stage in turn, drawing applause and cheers from the family. Because yes, Kinny had given us a mission for her Big day : learn the choreography of a Bollywod song "Sheila Ki Jawani" apparently famous for the girls and "Dabang" for my friend, in front of an audience supposedly restricted to the family on his side, which amounted all the same to a beautiful hundred people! After a few quick rehearsals, Kinny's sister probably thought we were ready, anyway, the time was over for tinkering, because we already had to wiggle our hips in front of a delirious audience. Finally, the last salvo of dancers announced the end of the "show" and suddenly, all of a sudden, the crowd, from children to great grandmothers, rose and began to go wild to the sound of Bollywood hits, giving off such energy that we let ourselves go completely on the beats until late at night. Carried away by the crazy rhythms, we already had to go home, the future husband retired, the real wedding would take place the next day...

And that's how we bustled about all morning in a cloud of perfumes, powder, flamboyant fabrics. Excitement reigned and contaminated the whole household, we were draped in our fabulous saris, we insisted on the kohl of our eyes. The French and Belgian bridesmaids were finally ready and they piled in, crumpling their traditional dress, in the back of a pick-upwhich would transport us to the place of the official ceremony... Some members of the family were already present, in a sumptuous decor worthy of the gardens of wonders, laid out in the father's property: faces of Buddhas and statues of Shiva were erected here and there flowerbeds, delicate ponds bordered the sofas, vegetation abounded around us, giving a feeling of being one with nature. The bride, adorned with gilding and a fiery sari, finally arrived alongside her mother on the huge red carpet that led to the festivities, tears welled up in our eyes: she was so beautiful. Final preparations were hastily made, the men of Kinny's family turbaning themselvesof pink while we were assailed by photos taken by professionals with our bind is on the forehead. The emotion was palpable.

The arrival of the bride

Suddenly, the assistance was held in breath, we heard the shouts which rose since the street. In orange turbans, the men of the Ujjval family approached, proud and victorious, enveloping the magnificent groom. The ceremony could finally begin. Separated by a transparent veil, the future spouses faced each other, surrounded by their closest relatives, while most of the guests took advantage of the abundance of dishes from the buffet with international tones. We attended the ceremony without understanding the words that stood before us, but we were bewitched by the colors, the incense, the strange rituals that unfolded before our eyes. The Brahman indeed touched the feet of the bride and groom, while continuing his incantations for very long minutes. The spouses, with a knowing look, exchanged necklaces of flowers and passed them around their necks before launching, according to tradition, to go around the sacred fire seven times to celebrate the new union. In real relief and unspeakable joy, the few guests gathered around this ultimate moment threw dozens of flowers to the newlyweds on the fly. We could also enjoy the feast, between two photo shoots: it flashed in all directions, we seemed to be at the Oscars. Suddenly, we were about to swallow yet another bite when we learned that Kinny was already flying! What ? Did we miss the departure of the bride? When we got to the street, the car had just taken off, taking my friend and her husband on board, leaving everyone around us in tears. Tears welling up in my face, in spite of myself, I asked a cousin about the cause of this ambient sadness… This departure indeed sounded the death knell of an old era when Kinny was single, living under the roof of her parents, and the beginning of a new period in her life as a woman, that of a wife, in her new family. Somewhat overwhelmed but won over by the ambient emotion, we thus ended the second evening, realizing that our gifts would never have been opened.

The third evening was more grueling for us, as it involved bringing together the associates and future partners of our architect friends and the fatigue of the last few days of total excitement fell upon us without warning, as Kinny put on her third jet-colored sari. , on the arm of Ujjval, with its incredible presence... The following days, we were already back on the road for our journey through India with memories of these splendours, this jovial atmosphere of the first evening, these sparkling and the solemnity of the second evening, of this crazy atmosphere lived throughout the celebration, of this plunge into an absolutely incredible world where we touched as closely as possible the magic of Bollywood, of that which elevates dreams and awakens meaning. For the wedding destination, you have many options of Banquet Halls in Thane, Mumbai.