First up, our fairy tale wedding...

Mehndi (Henna), Friday 23 February 2007

Most Indian brides in England shun the idea of having mehndi beyond the palms of their hands. I decided to be different and opt to be henna'd up to my elbows and up to my knees. It took around two hours to complete the work of art on all limbs by two very skilled mehndi-walas. Not only did they fill the work surfaces with intricate patterns, but managed to tell a story with their designs. I had a dhol player and flute player adorned on each arm, and other characters of the wedding, including a rani on an elephant and a raja on a horse, on each of my legs. I had never seen mehndi art like this in all the weddings I had attended - all of which had taken place in England. And as any other Indian, I have attended hundreds of weddings.

My sister Aman and Toni's dear friends, Anna, Eva and May all had their hands patterned with delicate designs and then my mum and masis (mum's sisters) and chachis (dad's brothers' wives) joined in too.

Tradition has it that the mehndi-wala is to include in his designs all the letters of the bride's and groom's first name. It is for the groom to find all the letters or else hand his wife a penalty of 5,100 rupees. Aman, and my brothers Kamal, Gurpreet and Manu sat attentively analysing the designs but even they could not complete the puzzle.

Toni tried to bribe my masi with 2,000 rupees if she told him where the letters were. Of course, my masi stood her ground and was appalled at the attempt of bribery. She would have given in if the sum was 1,000 rupees higher! Toni, of course was oblivious to that.

Waking up the following morning, the bed was full of what looked like mouse-droppings (only it was definitely mehndi) - I attempted to clear it off my hands, arms, legs and feet, and it had left an orange pattern on my hands. Over the next 24 hours, the mehndi gradually turned extremely dark brown and was almost black by the wedding day. I was told (by lots of people) that the darker the mehndi, the more you are loved by your mother-in-law! I don’t think my mehndi could have been any darker!

Sangeet and Dinner, Saturday 24 February 2007

With all the confusion and the stress of the days leading upto the wedding, all of us needed to chill out for an evening and just have fun. So Tina, Daisy, Gagan, Puneet and Rukhsana - my sisters, invited everybody to the occasion. Who in their right mind dare miss it?!

The evening for Amrit started with every girl's dream: pampering at the beauticians. As if the day before was not enough (almost 6 hours of re-inventing herself), before the sangeet, she was there again. It was lush!

For me, the family had planned the "home spa treatment" (which was nothing but embarrassment therapy). They all wanted me to glow on my wedding day so out came the ancient Indian skin-glow treatment: a mixture of gram flour (or besan), turmeric powder and milk.

Sitting in the centre of the room on a stool with ladies all around me trying to rub and massage this mixture into my skin was not as pleasant an experience as one would think. The lucky thing was that I could go into the bathroom alone and have a good scrub (and of course, glow for the evening). My embarrassment was not kept contained in the room where the ceremony was taking place. Oh no, the men folk were busy enjoying there drinks and watching it all happen LIVE on a big screen outside and thinking "another lamb to the slaughter, CHEERS!". For me, if I had to go through this to get my Amrit, I would be willing to do this everyday of my life.

So came bath-time and with not much hot water, I stood there wondering if I would get all the stuff off me. But I did and I don't know if I was glowing yet but had to get out of the bathroom fast because the family wanted me to show my face (my glowing face). My Sunny Mamaji (mum’s brother) was there to do his bit of the ceremony, and there was a little singing and dancing in the room by mum's sister-in-laws and this (ordeal of a) ceremony was over.

By this time my dear Amrit had arrived at the venue, looking beautiful and her face glowing (not because she had been through the same ordeal). It was thanks to modern European treatments known as "make up" and not pre-historic methods (and these few lines were sponsored by L'Oreal).

Back to the ceremony and now came the time to show who was the best on the dance floor: my dad’s side of the family or my mum’s side. The whole thing is started by my mum’s side with her eldest bother and his wife bringing in the lights (jago) onto the dance floor. Then the battle commences, both sides trying their best to sing and dance the other off the floor. I won’t go into who won and who lost. Mum's the word.

While all this was happening Amrit and I were trying to mingle with the guests and introduce each other to each other's relatives. This was a fruitless exercise, and after about five minutes we both gave up trying to remember who anyone was and just said hello to all.

By this time everyone was high on adrenalin or on alcohol (the latter seems to be the more likely explanation) and nudging Amrit and I onto the dance floor. Those of you who know me well know that dancing for me happens only once in a blue moon. On this occasion it could have been the blue moon or my glowing face. Whichever, I did dance although it only lasted as long as a solar eclipse. But it did happen so you all can make a note of it. Soon the whole family joined us on the dance floor so that my meager dancing techniques could easily be covered up and Amrit did not start have second thoughts about marrying me.

But all in all the evening was great. It was made great by the great people who were there to celebrate with us...I thank them all for a great evening. Toni

Toni and I have looked back over the wedding and realized one of the main reasons why Indian tradition does not allow the bride and groom to meet the week preceding the wedding is STRESS. When I arrived at the Sangeet, I was nervous about meeting Toni's extended family and all his friends. This was my first encounter. And, as Indian timing would have it, us foreigners turned up late. On this occasion I was hoping not to make a grand entrance. Nevertheless, we did and so all eyes (once everyone realized who I was) were on me. There were plenty of teeth-gritting smiles.

Our attempts at mingling did little but add confusion into the mix of things - with best intentions, we could not remember any names or faces! Dance is a great heeler (for some I say) and it certainly produced therapeutic magic for me. Especially when my beloved joined me (with great shoving and other "encouragement") onto the dance floor. He tells me he doesn't dance but he certainly busted some moves for the moments he was there! I loved it.

It was a great party with the right ingredients to get us in the mood for the big day. Amrit