Last weekend we took the girls on their second plane trip and went to a wedding. The girls aren’t too far behind me in the wedding stakes, relative to our ages: I’ve been to nine weddings now (including my own), and this was their second one. It wasn’t like any of the others I’ve been to though. For one thing, the festivities continued over three nights. For another, it was the first multi-racial, Muslim wedding I’ve attended, with the bride and groom being of Uzbek and Pakistani origin.
The first night was the mehndi, a Pakistani pre wedding celebration involving the application of henna to the bride-to-be (we missed that part because we flew in a bit late). We did join in in filing past the couple and putting a small piece of sweet confectionary in both their mouths – us and the other hundred or so invitees. I hope they liked that particular sweet. Rhea and Lara in their little pink and blue sparkling sulwar kameezes drank a glass of mango lassi each, and we had a couple ourselves too. The food was spicy and the Pakistani music created another bond between the largely Pakistani participants, building to a crescendo later in the evening when a live drum player really shook things up. That was our exit call: we took our tired children (one almost asleep, the other wide-eyed and still charging about) home to their hotel cots.
The second night was the wedding itself. The bride and groom were still on display, but wearing more formal and glittering clothing, the groom in a white turban and gold brocade knee-length shirt over white trousers, the bride in a sequined white dress with long sleeves and a silver-edged long headscarf, modest with only her hands and face visible but elegant. They sat silently on a stage while the much larger gathering ate a delicious Pakistani dinner, after which there was the marriage ceremony.
– ‘Do you agree to marry this woman?’, asked the Imam. And then:
– ‘I have asked her father for permission for her to marry so there is no need to ask her.’
I heard some of the Muslim guests at our table commenting on this.
– ‘I’ve been to weddings where they do ask her, because she’s there. I don’t know why he didn’t.’
We spent much of the evening accompanying our toddlers around the room so they could meet the babies in attendance. And managing a couple of significant nappy changing enterprises, Steve changing Rhea’s two-day’s worth of poo on the boot of our hire car with two wipes (there was collateral) and me charging in and using the empty prayer room that some teenage girls directed me to in order to change Lara’s significant package (using the remaining full packet of tissues and wipes) when the disabled toilet seemed permanently locked.
The third night was the wedding reception, with speeches from close friends and family culminating in a speech by the groom’s father, Steve’s friend, which ranged from the humorous (describing how he had had to eat half a large packet of pine nuts at customs before the customs official asked him to take his pine nuts and go away because there was a queue and he was wasting their time – not sure what this had to do with his son or the wedding but he did say that his speech was a meandering one because he hadn’t found the time to write it) to the moving mention of absent grandparents who would have been proud of such a grandson.
Weddings are a time of celebration, but also of reflection and thanks to those who have helped us become who we are, both absent and present. This wedding was a cause for great joy and exuberance, especially for the parents who seemed to be loving every minute.
-‘When will we see you again? For our daughter’s wedding?’
May the happy couple have many fulfilling years together. We were privileged to participate in their special nights.
