We dress up the most for day 3. Early afternoon we head out, which confuses me, because I thought they told me it would be about 7:30. I have only a few minutes to don my finery, which is the wedding costume of the year before, dark aqua with gold thread embroidered designs.
For me, the events begin to blur.
For me, the events begin to blur.
We are first in the onland tent. It takes a while, but becomes filled with women and children. The singing begins. Always the same beat, and cadence. Three big chairs are brought in, then the bride and two attendants arrive. Gift giving time. One by one, the women approach with envelops of money, boxes with gold rings or other ornamentation, though always gold, or both. A cousin is opening the envelopes, a sister-in-law is carefully notating the name of the giver and the exact amount of the gift. (At a later date, her family will gift in kind to a wedding in the giver's family).
When this is complete, there is another feast in the big barge. Luncheon: the sides are open to the air. This feast, again with the platter of rice, the X and four sharing communely, has about 8 meat courses. We eat, and eat, and eat. Well, me not so much. I like rice, but not in these vast quantities. Same for the meat.
After the meal, our family heads home to rest and let the children run around. When later, the women are preparing to return, I bow out, for guest what? Yes, another meal.
I stay in our boat and hobnob with an Indian family who has arrived for the night. I watch them shop, jewels and shawls (the vendors come onto the house boat with their wares), until dinner time. I am gifted a silver chain which I receive with both delight and surprise, as they press me to join them for dinner. It is about 9:30 pm. As I am enjoying the conversation, I accept the invite, though still in my wedding clothes. During the meal, they receive a call from Javeed (one of my Kashmiri sons), who tells them that if they'd like to come see the bride and groom, to come now.
Yes, this is when the boy, in his finery and his family come to get the girl.
When we step out to the deck of the houseboat, we can see, down the lake another,smaller barge tied to the big one.
This evening, the men from the girl's side are hosting the men from the boy's side on the big barge. The women are in the tent on the land. Except for the bride and groom themselves, everyone has had another big meal. The women are singing Kashmiri songs when we arrive, and I am motioned to sit and join in. I do, thinking that things are about wound up and we will be taking the girl over soon.
I couldn't be more wrong. It is now about 11 pm and the bride and the groom will be fed(in their seperate locations), along with select relatives of both sides. It is her last meal before leaving. I can't help but wonder if it takes so long because she is doing all she can to delay departure. While she eats, the rest of us sing, huddled under blankets for the evening, turned to night, is cool and damp. Finally she is done, has been taken to the house for a session in the "fresh" room, and then women singing at full voice, she is led to the smaller barge. Just before stepping onto the gangplank, she shares an emotional and poignant hug with her father. We crowd onto the barge behind her. At the far end are two elaborate, plush cushioned chairs. She takes one, with an uncle and female companions beside her. Her shawl is pulled down over her face. The groom is led in, and takes the other chair. They each sit stiffly, looking at no one. She because of the veil, he because... well, imagine it! Everyone staring, women singing loudly, and not one, but two videographers - hers and his - filming everything.
With fireworks flashing, the barge, powered by long poles, pushes off. It takes about 20 minutes to get to the groom's home, where yes, another huge tent is set up. The escorts lead the now married couple out of the barge onto the land, with the rest of us following. In the tent, another set of chair, women sitting on mattresses around the edges, and singing. Now it is all out rivalry, her women, his women singing not in rounds as before, but at the same time, trying to outdo each other.
After a few moments, we are shushed. A senior female from the groom's side is feeding the bride a glass of milk and cake. This ritual of welcome. Once done, she really is their family. After she is fed, the cake is passed around to her entourage. This is our sign to leave.
We head back to the boat, her sister and niece, and some of her friends, sobbing openly. She now belongs to his family.
It is pointed out to me, that even with all this emotion, her parents place is really just across the water, in sight even. It is more the symbology of her removal from the family by marriage.
Under starlight and a shining moon, with occassional bursts of firecrackers, we are poled back to our starting place, where everyone rapidly disperses. Our own small shikara is waiting for us and as we paddle away, I watch the barge being poled, for it has no motor, off down the lake for it's next engagement.
After the meal, our family heads home to rest and let the children run around. When later, the women are preparing to return, I bow out, for guest what? Yes, another meal.
I stay in our boat and hobnob with an Indian family who has arrived for the night. I watch them shop, jewels and shawls (the vendors come onto the house boat with their wares), until dinner time. I am gifted a silver chain which I receive with both delight and surprise, as they press me to join them for dinner. It is about 9:30 pm. As I am enjoying the conversation, I accept the invite, though still in my wedding clothes. During the meal, they receive a call from Javeed (one of my Kashmiri sons), who tells them that if they'd like to come see the bride and groom, to come now.
Yes, this is when the boy, in his finery and his family come to get the girl.
When we step out to the deck of the houseboat, we can see, down the lake another,smaller barge tied to the big one.
This evening, the men from the girl's side are hosting the men from the boy's side on the big barge. The women are in the tent on the land. Except for the bride and groom themselves, everyone has had another big meal. The women are singing Kashmiri songs when we arrive, and I am motioned to sit and join in. I do, thinking that things are about wound up and we will be taking the girl over soon.
I couldn't be more wrong. It is now about 11 pm and the bride and the groom will be fed(in their seperate locations), along with select relatives of both sides. It is her last meal before leaving. I can't help but wonder if it takes so long because she is doing all she can to delay departure. While she eats, the rest of us sing, huddled under blankets for the evening, turned to night, is cool and damp. Finally she is done, has been taken to the house for a session in the "fresh" room, and then women singing at full voice, she is led to the smaller barge. Just before stepping onto the gangplank, she shares an emotional and poignant hug with her father. We crowd onto the barge behind her. At the far end are two elaborate, plush cushioned chairs. She takes one, with an uncle and female companions beside her. Her shawl is pulled down over her face. The groom is led in, and takes the other chair. They each sit stiffly, looking at no one. She because of the veil, he because... well, imagine it! Everyone staring, women singing loudly, and not one, but two videographers - hers and his - filming everything.
With fireworks flashing, the barge, powered by long poles, pushes off. It takes about 20 minutes to get to the groom's home, where yes, another huge tent is set up. The escorts lead the now married couple out of the barge onto the land, with the rest of us following. In the tent, another set of chair, women sitting on mattresses around the edges, and singing. Now it is all out rivalry, her women, his women singing not in rounds as before, but at the same time, trying to outdo each other.
After a few moments, we are shushed. A senior female from the groom's side is feeding the bride a glass of milk and cake. This ritual of welcome. Once done, she really is their family. After she is fed, the cake is passed around to her entourage. This is our sign to leave.
We head back to the boat, her sister and niece, and some of her friends, sobbing openly. She now belongs to his family.
It is pointed out to me, that even with all this emotion, her parents place is really just across the water, in sight even. It is more the symbology of her removal from the family by marriage.
Under starlight and a shining moon, with occassional bursts of firecrackers, we are poled back to our starting place, where everyone rapidly disperses. Our own small shikara is waiting for us and as we paddle away, I watch the barge being poled, for it has no motor, off down the lake for it's next engagement.
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