An American in the family

My son (settled in the USA) finally at age 35, (I had almost given up) decided to marry an American, a girl from Iowa. Four hundred people attended the wedding. Apparently, by USA standards that is a large wedding. (By Indian standards not so, we had 1300 at our daughters wedding nearly 15 years ago.).

Everyone turned out to decorate the venue, friends, brides family and mine. Sundry people wandered in and out.

“Are you the  DJ?” Before he could answer , she said ,”go there,” they are coordinating the stuff there.”

He meekly went to went to my daughter.

“You can fold the yellow and black napkins, they have to alternate.”

After folding 20  napkins he said apologetically, “actually I am the pastor.”

The ceremony was really short. My son cut out many statements in the ceremony he considered irrelevant. He refused to wear a ring. This meant that the cute ring bearer just carried a decorated white cushion. The pastor was very obliging  being from one of the newer contemporary churches. He went along with whatever anyone said. The bride looked beautiful and wore white. The bridesmaids wore black and carried yellow flowers- these are the colours of the Hawkeyes , the university of Iowa’s athletic team). The grooms men , a long line of them wore traditional Indian suits the closed neck (bandh gala or achkan ) made popular first by Jawaharalal Nehru and now a shorter version by Narendra Modi. The last grooms man was just 10 years old, so he looked really tiny.

Also, the suits were stitched in India. This meant they had to be worn without s “fitting.” Everyone’s suits except one fitted well. His, for some reason was so tight that he could not move his arms or legs. He was told to move like a robot stiff, mechanical and careful and careful and to remove his coat when the dancing started.

American weddings to have tradtitions. The bride leaves on the arm of her new husband. The bridesmaids with the grooms man. This meant that my daughter left with her son, she resplendent in a navy blue and gold sari and he a miniature version of the groom.

At the reception the bride first dances with her father and the groom with his mother. We made a few clumsy practice attempts at this. My sari was long, got in the way and was in danger of being stomped on and unraveled. Son dispensed with the mother son dance.

The groom and bride did about four steps to a traditional waltz before the DJ was instructed to switch to a Bollywood Hritik Roshan number. The dance floor exploded in a “flash mob” as relatives and friends (warned before hand)  joined in). “One, two, three, four  get on the dance floor. ”That really broke the ice! The disco lit dance floor was cramped with gyrating bodies.

Home brewed beer, wine, whiskey  flowed freely. The bride and groom were even carried aloft on chairs in West Asian style. No one was holding back from uninhibited pure fun. We had to pack up by midnight so everyone moved to the hotel for an “afterparty.” It was boisterous and fun. Some one ordered pizza. The room was cramped with dancing shouting people and the pizzas were delivered through the window!

“A good time was had by all!”