After Kathmandu I headed South to Delhi and then West to Bikaner, to accept the invitation to my Delhi - Kathmandu tour guide Hari’s cousin JV’s wedding (grammar police, get me later). It is wedding season in Rajasthan (the summers are an oppressive 50 C) and every night you can hear the sounds of traditional music and, if you’re lucky, the occasional riot of fireworks. Rajasthan is literally the land of kings and on that front it does not disappoint. As you can see from my pictures (click on the title), this desert state has a history of great wealth and each city outdoes the next with its royal palaces and now-crumbling fortresses. I am writing this entry from Bundi, a small (80,000) city five hours west of Udaipur, where I am relishing the reprieve from the throngs of tourist stores and of course reflecting on the past three weeks.
The reality is that you can travel a country as I am for months on end without getting a real sense of its culture or the reality of its people. I, like many tourists, generally seek out the ‘tourist areas’ of every city and there are many practical reasons for this (the least of which is the ready availability of toilet paper). However, aside from the chorus of “hello, madame, where you from?”s in poor British accents, there is little interaction with actual people. Traveling on my own, I am learning to perfect my ‘no means: no-I-swear-I-do-not-need-or-want-you-to-clean-my-ears-and-even-if-I-did-it-wouldn’t-be-with-that-hook’ look, which further stifles any hope of meaningful interaction. All of which is to say, Hari’s generous invitation was a rare chance for a glimpse inside the culture whose rhythms beat around me every day.
Hari drove his parents and I traveled from Bikaner to Jodhpur by ‘tourist’ bus. This was my first experience on a public bus and I can tell you I was the only tourist on it! Hari’s sons and I sat three to two seats and because to this day I have no idea whether they can understand English, occasionally we played pantomime. My favourite was when they gestured that this kid in the sleeper compartment of the bus wanted me to hand over my Kindle, as though ‘tourist’ was synonymous with ‘idiot’!
After settling into my hotel room in Jodhpur, I headed across the street to a government building that I surmise is rented to government officials who need the space to host functions. This was the night before the wedding and the groom’s family was all there. In one room, all of the gifts for the bride were laid out, to be looked at before being packed to be sent along with the groom to the bride’s house. I was encouraged to feel the weight of the gold and the traditional dresses and informed by the younger women that wearing these outfits was very, very heavy. Later in the night, while the women danced to a traditional band, everyone would get up, circle money over their heads and tip the band. Just before this began, I acquiesced to the demands of Hari’s lovely sixteen year old niece, who insisted that I dance to Waka Waka by Shakira with her as it is apparently the number one song for teenage girls here these days! Mainly I just stood there awkwardly; how does one dance appropriately to Shakira?!?
The next day by virtue of being a foreigner, I had the chance to go along with the groom and the men of his family to the bride in Ajmer. This procession is known as the Barhat and the women of the groom’s family do not attend. In car along with Hari and I were two of his nephew-in-laws, both well educated and successful young men around my age. Since Hari has a fix-or-repair-daily (North America represent!), we had a lot of time to talk during a trip extended by both a flat tire and a cell phone GPS accurate to the nearest 3 kilometers! What struck me the most about these conversations were their similarities to the conversations that I had with a German who I met at my guesthouse in Jaisalmer. It occurred to me then that apart from being from being Canadian, I am also a member of a global middle class, reading the same books and websites, contemplating the same questions about the state of the world. Will similar recognitions of this reality allow us to solve these problems together?
Although as a foreigner and a woman at the Barhat I was painfully conspicuous at times, my conversations were extremely interesting. Among other things, I learned about why micro finance met its end in Uttar Pradesh and how infrastructure in the country is financed and maintained (don’t worry, details on an ask-only basis). To my amusement, I found out that lawyers are considered the highest ranking profession, giving me instant (deserved?) credibility. Emboldened by questions into my personal life, I also dared to ask a couple of questions about meeting before marriage and although I never got a totally straight answer, what I was able to distill is that a man can ask the girl’s family to meet her in advance of the marriage (and I infer, possibly object). It was explained to me that Rajasthan is especially conservative when it comes to relationships between men and women. My teenage guide said that your caste will even dictate what kind of celebration that you have. For example, there was no dancing at this wedding!!! It should be interesting to contrast this wedding with the one in Mumbai in February!
The next day the groom, his bride and the Barhat drove back to Jodhpur for a reception hosted by his family. Contrary to popular images of India, it is not hot here all the time! Rajasthan is a desert state and in the winter (now) the nights are cold! My non- EBC wardrobe has only barely been up to the task of keeping me warm. Luckily, there were outdoor fire pits everywhere and I quickly sat near one. In retrospect, I still say that it was worth the fact that my hair still vaguely smells like smoke…. Much like at the bride’s family’s reception, there was tons of food and that seemed to be the principal focus. Quite late in the night the bride and groom arrived and the bride was whisked off to a room with the women of the groom’s family. There they each took turns lifting the veil covering her face in order to see her for the first time and welcome her to the family. This was also an opportunity to inspect her clothing and jewelry. All the while she kept her head bowed and stayed quiet. I learned from another girl that the bride had not eaten that day, amid all the ceremonies and travel. Looking at her, I wondered how she felt, days into wedding ceremonies, weighed down in gold, not raising her head… I tried unsuccessfully to inquire about whether women look forward to their wedding days in the same way we do in the West. I think it was lost in translation when my young host exclaimed “I’m not getting married, I’m in high school!” ah, bless her, she also thought I was nineteen! This isn’t to say that the groom had it easy, every time I looked at him he had a stoic expression on his face masking what I had earlier observed as a jovial disposition and was often being fed some type of sweet. Apparently one is only supposed to eat sweet things during their wedding; I was feeling a little queasy watching it. Above all, I was struck by the level of commitment to one’s family that has people take this great, long, leap of faith together.
Finally, the next morning the groom and his bride returned to his symbolic family house. They drove in the car that the bride’s family had given him as a wedding gift! Many ceremonies ensued, including one where he moved a series of trays with his sword and his wife followed behind, collecting them, seven times over. The man is supposed to lead in life and the woman in death. Perhaps for the best, my follow up question again was lost in translation. After lunch, I slipped away to see some of the city of Jodhpur before heading to Udaipur the next morning. The groom and his bride were spending the afternoon traveling to his family’s village. Sitting in an auto rickshaw chugging up to another fortress, I was amazed by their stamina and a bit relieved that ‘the party done’.
Next stop? Goa, where my current plans include: lying on the beach, reading on the beach, sleeping on the beach and curiously enough, a pantomime performance at a children’s orphanage!!!
A very merry Christmas (or Happy Holiday) to you all!
After Kathmandu I headed South to Delhi and then West to Bikaner, to accept the invitation to my Delhi - Kathmandu tour guide Hari’s cousin JV’s wedding (grammar police, get me later). It is wedding season in Rajasthan (the summers are an oppressive 50 C) and every night you can hear the sounds of traditional music and, if you’re lucky, the occasional riot of fireworks. Rajasthan is literally the land of kings and on that front it does not disappoint. As you can see from my pictures (click on the title), this desert state has a history of great wealth and each city outdoes the next with its royal palaces and now-crumbling fortresses. I am writing this entry from Bundi, a small (80,000) city five hours west of Udaipur, where I am relishing the reprieve from the throngs of tourist stores and of course reflecting on the past three weeks.
The reality is that you can travel a country as I am for months on end without getting a real sense of its culture or the reality of its people. I, like many tourists, generally seek out the ‘tourist areas’ of every city and there are many practical reasons for this (the least of which is the ready availability of toilet paper). However, aside from the chorus of “hello, madame, where you from?”s in poor British accents, there is little interaction with actual people. Traveling on my own, I am learning to perfect my ‘no means: no-I-swear-I-do-not-need-or-want-you-to-clean-my-ears-and-even-if-I-did-it-wouldn’t-be-with-that-hook’ look, which further stifles any hope of meaningful interaction. All of which is to say, Hari’s generous invitation was a rare chance for a glimpse inside the culture whose rhythms beat around me every day.
Hari drove his parents and I traveled from Bikaner to Jodhpur by ‘tourist’ bus. This was my first experience on a public bus and I can tell you I was the only tourist on it! Hari’s sons and I sat three to two seats and because to this day I have no idea whether they can understand English, occasionally we played pantomime. My favourite was when they gestured that this kid in the sleeper compartment of the bus wanted me to hand over my Kindle, as though ‘tourist’ was synonymous with ‘idiot’!
After settling into my hotel room in Jodhpur, I headed across the street to a government building that I surmise is rented to government officials who need the space to host functions. This was the night before the wedding and the groom’s family was all there. In one room, all of the gifts for the bride were laid out, to be looked at before being packed to be sent along with the groom to the bride’s house. I was encouraged to feel the weight of the gold and the traditional dresses and informed by the younger women that wearing these outfits was very, very heavy. Later in the night, while the women danced to a traditional band, everyone would get up, circle money over their heads and tip the band. Just before this began, I acquiesced to the demands of Hari’s lovely sixteen year old niece, who insisted that I dance to Waka Waka by Shakira with her as it is apparently the number one song for teenage girls here these days! Mainly I just stood there awkwardly; how does one dance appropriately to Shakira?!?
The next day by virtue of being a foreigner, I had the chance to go along with the groom and the men of his family to the bride in Ajmer. This procession is known as the Barhat and the women of the groom’s family do not attend. In car along with Hari and I were two of his nephew-in-laws, both well educated and successful young men around my age. Since Hari has a fix-or-repair-daily (North America represent!), we had a lot of time to talk during a trip extended by both a flat tire and a cell phone GPS accurate to the nearest 3 kilometers! What struck me the most about these conversations were their similarities to the conversations that I had with a German who I met at my guesthouse in Jaisalmer. It occurred to me then that apart from being from being Canadian, I am also a member of a global middle class, reading the same books and websites, contemplating the same questions about the state of the world. Will similar recognitions of this reality allow us to solve these problems together?
Although as a foreigner and a woman at the Barhat I was painfully conspicuous at times, my conversations were extremely interesting. Among other things, I learned about why micro finance met its end in Uttar Pradesh and how infrastructure in the country is financed and maintained (don’t worry, details on an ask-only basis). To my amusement, I found out that lawyers are considered the highest ranking profession, giving me instant (deserved?) credibility. Emboldened by questions into my personal life, I also dared to ask a couple of questions about meeting before marriage and although I never got a totally straight answer, what I was able to distill is that a man can ask the girl’s family to meet her in advance of the marriage (and I infer, possibly object). It was explained to me that Rajasthan is especially conservative when it comes to relationships between men and women. My teenage guide said that your caste will even dictate what kind of celebration that you have. For example, there was no dancing at this wedding!!! It should be interesting to contrast this wedding with the one in Mumbai in February!
The next day the groom, his bride and the Barhat drove back to Jodhpur for a reception hosted by his family. Contrary to popular images of India, it is not hot here all the time! Rajasthan is a desert state and in the winter (now) the nights are cold! My non- EBC wardrobe has only barely been up to the task of keeping me warm. Luckily, there were outdoor fire pits everywhere and I quickly sat near one. In retrospect, I still say that it was worth the fact that my hair still vaguely smells like smoke…. Much like at the bride’s family’s reception, there was tons of food and that seemed to be the principal focus. Quite late in the night the bride and groom arrived and the bride was whisked off to a room with the women of the groom’s family. There they each took turns lifting the veil covering her face in order to see her for the first time and welcome her to the family. This was also an opportunity to inspect her clothing and jewelry. All the while she kept her head bowed and stayed quiet. I learned from another girl that the bride had not eaten that day, amid all the ceremonies and travel. Looking at her, I wondered how she felt, days into wedding ceremonies, weighed down in gold, not raising her head… I tried unsuccessfully to inquire about whether women look forward to their wedding days in the same way we do in the West. I think it was lost in translation when my young host exclaimed “I’m not getting married, I’m in high school!” ah, bless her, she also thought I was nineteen! This isn’t to say that the groom had it easy, every time I looked at him he had a stoic expression on his face masking what I had earlier observed as a jovial disposition and was often being fed some type of sweet. Apparently one is only supposed to eat sweet things during their wedding; I was feeling a little queasy watching it. Above all, I was struck by the level of commitment to one’s family that has people take this great, long, leap of faith together.
Finally, the next morning the groom and his bride returned to his symbolic family house. They drove in the car that the bride’s family had given him as a wedding gift! Many ceremonies ensued, including one where he moved a series of trays with his sword and his wife followed behind, collecting them, seven times over. The man is supposed to lead in life and the woman in death. Perhaps for the best, my follow up question again was lost in translation. After lunch, I slipped away to see some of the city of Jodhpur before heading to Udaipur the next morning. The groom and his bride were spending the afternoon traveling to his family’s village. Sitting in an auto rickshaw chugging up to another fortress, I was amazed by their stamina and a bit relieved that ‘the party done’.
Next stop? Goa, where my current plans include: lying on the beach, reading on the beach, sleeping on the beach and curiously enough, a pantomime performance at a children’s orphanage!!!
A very merry Christmas (or Happy Holiday) to you all!
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