Wedding day

Wedding day

I had an early rise (5am to be precise) so that I could rush over to the beauticians for my appointment at 6am. Taxi arrived on queue, and with my sister Aman helping all the way, we drove onto Sector 35-C before sunrise. Little did I know that as a foreigner who is also Indian by background, I was expected to arrive an hour late for any appointment I made. Sitting in the cab outside the CLOSED L'Oreal studio at 0550 we waited for someone to open up. Finally (approximately 0605), some lights came on, and so we grabbed everything (dress, shoes, jewellery) and rushed over. Eager to start the treatments, we waited another 45 minutes for the artist to arrive. In the meanwhile Aman and I explored world politics and Indian beuracracy with the receptionist, a retired gentleman who was working in the Studio to keep himself busy. Topics which were far too serious for this time of the morning did a good job of passing time. Chiku, the beautician rolled up huffing and puffing, exclaiming that she had had a nightmare journey into work and we go started straight away. I was fairly relaxed during the makeover, with Aman reassuring me that the makeup was looking grand. It was only when I realised the time had reached 0935 (we were due at the gurdwara (Sikh temple) at 0900) that I started panicing, which then led to an automatic burst of waterworks and nearly ruining the makeup. I told Aman to run ahead and ask the driver to start the cab. I, fully dressed in all my clobber, had to take it slow in case I had a tumble down the steps. Having shouted at Chiku, and a colleague of hers for making me late, I left the Studio and was on my way to the gurdwara.

Arriving at the gurdwara, I was still in a panic. The barat (Toni and his family) had not arrived but all I could think of was "what if they arrived right this moment?" and so, out of the cab, I legged it into the building, and about five minutes later, Toni arrived. Phew, I had made it, and was feeling better once my masi's bombarded the waiting room I was sitting in. They brought with them food and advice. I was given a quick lesson on the ceremony, and rules on how to behave. It was brief but would prove to be extremely useful.

For me it started a little later than Amrit´s but with a similar panic because till now I had not tried to tie my wedding turban and with nerves on the edge it did not tie well. With a little help from my cousin it was finally tied. Then started the "dress-up ceremony" for the day with help from my sister and sister-in-law who fixed the "kalgi" onto my turban, and placed "surma" on my eyes, and after alot of confusion, I was ready.

Speaking of dresses my fantastic five: Eva, Stian, Anna, May and Kamal were all dressed in Indian fasion. Stian even wore a turban and was turned into a Sikh for the day.

But as Indian weddings go nothing was on time. We were already getting late to the gurdwara. As you know I am one who likes to be on time, and you might see the stress on my face in the photos and the way I was holding my ceremonial sword, ready to use it on someone or something and really make MY DAY.

Just as my mind was preoccupied with plotting and scheming, the car which was to take me to the gurdwara arrived, driven by none other than my brother Sammy (chauffeur for the day), the car was then flowered-up with technical assistance from Norway (Tina and May).

With everything checked on the check list I was ready to go to the temple:
1 Toni fully dressed – check
2 The sword still not used on anyone – check
3 My driver not drunk – check
4 Anna been stuffed with drugs – check (she had food poisoning, but still wanted to see the wedding hence the drugs)

GO GO GO

After 15 minutes of safe driving by Sammy we were at the temple and the usual ciaos of the Indian weddings took over. No one new what to do. Both the families stood facing each other. All I could think of was "my shoes are killing me, could you all move on please"! Because I was so close to God (in the temple), my wish was granted rather quickly.
Breakfast was being served and everyone jumped into have bite. I was just too nervous to eat and wanted to get married quickly. I was edging towards to hall where Amrit and I were to be married and I reached there first, even before the priest. One by one people started to enter but there was still no sign of the priest. In the end a massive priest hunt was started by my FIL (father in-law). After what felt like an eternity he was found and things finally began. To this day I don't know where the priest had gone and why, I guess he is only answerable to God. Anyway as long as he did his bit and I got married to my Amrit I was not complaining.

There are so many ceremonies in a Sikh wedding it's really had to keep track of what's happening and what one should do. The first ceremony is done by the bride's family. They come bearing gifts by way of a ton of fruit and sweets, (I think in the back of every groom's mind he is thinking "do I have to eat it all") and a gold "kara" (bangle). I think one just has to sit tight and take it as it comes. Then there is a long wait for the bride and, oh my god she looked so beautiful in her dress, but I dare not look up directly at her face but you know, guys have their ways hehe.

I didn't have to wait long before I was called in to the hall for the wedding ceremony. With all my masi's and Indian relatives in tow, my brothers took me to the hall and I made the grand entrance (which, this time I was hoping for). Whilst I sat at the front of the hall, I analysed what, if anything, I should be feeling and came to the conclusion that I should be nervous, perhaps a little frightened and anxious about this being the biggest and most important day of my life, a pivotal point where I was choosing to make a decision which would change my life forever. Instead, all I could think of was how nice it was to sit next to Toni and ways in which I could catch his eye! In the end, we ended up knee-fighting each other! This was during a speech from a priest at the temple in lessons of married life. According to him, I am to rise before and go to sleep after my husband has. I am to attend to all his needs. I think the priest got it the wrong way!

So we started the four rounds around the holy book which will change my life forever (I have to specify now: "change my life for the BETTER"). You see a man gets specific just after four "pheras". Now that's what I call marriage. You can't leave things to be interpreted the wrong way, I have to go home to a wife now, that too without a crash helmet. I am learning fast.

Yes we did our pheras. It actually felt quite spiritual for me - I embraced every moment - from my dad handing me Toni's "palah" to the final "ardas". I did feel like something almost magical happened during the ceremony. Afterwards, I was in constant smile-mode. It was the best feeling of my life!

Then off to lunch. Sammy our special driver, managed to get us to Chimney Heights, the lunch venue, well before most other guests arrived. We were walked into the grounds by a band which included a bagpipe player. I felt so special. Toni, on the other hand was very embarassed. I think it got worse for him when the band gathered around us and fresh petal confetti was thrown. That was the pinnacle for me. We sat on our "thrones" for the "shagan" ceremony whereby family and friends gave us a gift and had photos with us. Then there were more photos in a makeshift studio set up by the photographers. All in all, 1500 photos were taken!

We did find time to eat towards the end of the afternoon and were served personally by the Manager of the catering. He brought countless plates, each holding different dishes so that we had a chance to taste each and every dish on the menu. I was particularly impressed by the variety and quality of the food. Everything tasted delicious.

Toni, constantly checking his watch, was eager to leave on time and so next came the "doli" ceremony where I said good bye to my family. It was an emotional farewell, that is until the band started playing to lead us out - that made me chuckle.

With the ceremony done and the MAN becoming the mouse, the only thing to top the hurt, male ego was the lecture given by the head priest, whose long talk was putting not only the newly wed couple to sleep but most of the people who were present there. The only thing which kept me awake was the naughty knee-knocking by my wife: a bold move.

After the wedding it was a rush to move to the lunch venue, the reason being that the next lamb (groom) had arrived to be slaughtered at the temple, I mean for his marriage vows (becoming another mouse). The second reason for the rush was that I needed food. With Sammy at the wheel we reached the venue in rally style and to welcome us was a band and family members.
Next was the photo session with the whole of the family with our photographer forcing us to smile. Still no food for me just more photos, it was late in the afternoon when the people who really loved us thought we might be hungry and we were served food.

Then came the time for Amrit to say good bye to her family. I think it was harder then she had thought, with tears in her eyes we drove back to our new home. There we were met with the custom of crossing 3 barriers to enter the home: my brothers, my mum and my sisters.

With me just on the edge of blowing my top (we can say because of the stress) the resistance was minimal. I needed rest but there was the evening party to go to and get ready for. For me it was a big challenge since I had promised myself that I would get rid of my much loved beard (that's what I like to think). So while Amrit got ready I went for a beauty make over, coming back just in time to pick up Amrit for the evening party .

We were the last ones to reach the venue, but we were the chief guests and as the rule in India states, the more important one is the more delayed is his arrival. With the law on our side we walked in with our heads held high.

With all the stress of the past few day I decided to chill out with drinks of clear water from vast expanses of the Russian prairie mixed with the lemon water from the foot hills at the Himalayas. With my friend JD serving me the water, I had no chance of surviving the Russian revolution in the foot hills. So I will let Amrit tell you what happened in the next few hours of the party. I don't seem to remember too much, I trust my wife to write an honest account of the evening.

The Russians had quite an effect on my husband, what with his memory loss and I might have sipped on a few of his lemon waters but obviously did not feel effects of such intensity. Our entrance was grand, having let my hair down and changed into lighter-weighing clothes and jewellery. Toni was also feeling lighter without his weghty beard.

Another stage was erected just for us and we followed, what had become, usual practice for us in the day, namely photographs galore with more relatives, but less of the formal stances. We were then taken to the dance floor and had our first dance off-queue before the cake in true non-tradition. That got everyone dancing and then I suddenly I remembered that we had to cut the cake.

The cake has its own story with it. It caused stress, arguments and stroppy encounters from the rani. But it all worked out in the end, even if the three-tier cake weighed 20 kilos and could not hold itself up. In the end, we had a two-tier cake with the middle tier placed next to it. The bakers obviously didn't envisage the problem. We gathered the family and cut the cake together (almost causing it to collapse with the sheer force of our slicing action). Our parents and siblings fed us and then we fed each other.

THEN came our OFFICIAL first dance. Another last-minute planned operation, Toni's friend Kami had been asking me throughout the evening which song to play for our first dance. I could not think of the song that Toni and I had discussed months ago. By sheer fluke, or psychic powers, or telepathic magic, the DJ played Fanaa, which was the song I couldn't think of.

It was perfect. We were dancing. By this time Toni could not focus. He kept warning me that he would step on my foot and that he could not dance. He asked me to lead. I wouldn't have it any other way. So we danced, until Toni realised he was dancing, and then he called for his family and friends to join in. It was great. I danced loads with our family and all our friends.

By the end of the night, we had danced, we had mingled and we had finally got around to eating. Toni's extended family were fascinated with the news that I could speak a little Punjabi and gathered round me to hear an excerpt. After the nerves had passed and the brain had started to function, I said something, which proved to be the key to success, and gained recognition for being a sweet girl who speaks sweet Punjabi.

The day was the best of my life, a perfect day filled with true happiness and twists of magic. We began married life as we mean to go on: life is never boring for us and is not likely to be.