We arrived at the family apartment by following directions that included ‘left at the coconut stand’ and ‘our apartment is across from the cows.’ Both Tony and I were given traditional gear to wear. (YEAH! I get to wear a sari!) There are some Westerners who insist on buying local gear. I guess they think they are getting in touch with the local culture, but really this is such a lame thing to do. But here I was going to a wedding and I had to wear a sari! It was the perfect excuse for dress-up.

Puja gave me a gold sari with lots of layers of embroidered work. It was fancier then any dress I had worn and incredibly heavy to wear. As with most saris I was bare around my midriff. Ordinarily that would be okay as I have olive skin, but my winter white was blaring through. I had never felt so pale in my life than when I was hanging out with a bunch of Indians. Much to my distress the only thing I could think was, “I am the White Lady in Lagaan.” But hey every Bollywood movie has token whities and that was certainly Tony & I today.

We went to the groom’s family apartment. He was undergoing a very intense photo session when the band started playing in the street. It was incredibly exciting hearing the loud music overtake the apartment. All of the groom's family and close friends were there to dance and cheer him around the neighborhood streets. We were literally dancing in the street as the drums beat and trombones blared. We danced our way into cars and headed to the reception hall. Outside the reception hall was a wash of gorgeous colors. Each sari was more stunning than the next and the jewelry and hair pieces were incredible. Dressing up in India is really an art-form. The men (including my pale husband) were given bright orange turbans to wear and the band continued to play as everyone danced and chanted. I think the historical significance was the groom and family danced their way from their home to the bride's village. This was the meeting of the two families.

It was marriage season in India and all over we saw these enormous laid out fields that were set up for marriages. From what we had heard the stars dictated that it was a good time to marry so the whole country was in action. This reception field had two tents – one for the ceremony and one for the food. Everyone sat around in chairs and the family was sent up to the central stage to sit around the new couple. I really didn’t see much of the action (if there was any), but I did manage a few glimpses of the bride who was decorated like a doll. She had gold jewelry strung all over her arms and face and elaborate fabric wrapped around her, and she was decorated with henna all up her arms and legs.

When we first arrived there were fabulous kiwi drinks handed out. I was quite happy to cool down, but unfortunately I now needed a bathroom stop. I went looking for the toilets and had to ask numerous people along the way. Where is this place? I had left the tented areas and thought I was walking into a work zone, as they were constructing the next wedding. I finally weaved my way through the workers and past some hung tarps to find 3 outdoor stalls marked ‘Ladies.’ The first stall I looked in was swarming with flies. I guess someone had missed their mark. I choose the other open one. It was a squat and pee stall with two spots indicated for my feet. I didn’t want any inch of the gorgeous sari to hit the walls or floor so I had to hike the whole thing up over my shoulders. There was no room to let the fabric drop within the stall so I had to carefully walk outside and readjust myself. Needless to say it was a disgusting experience. I can’t believe that these people are all gorgeously dressed and they had to use dirty pits to pee.

I walked back past the food tent, which was buzzing with people. I thought maybe I had missed the end of the ceremony because there were so many people in there, but I turned into the ceremony tent and sure enough, the couple was still on stage surrounded by close family. No one actually watches. There were 1000 guests, but as we were told, some of these people would be on the wedding circuit attending several functions in a day. Yikes, that’s a lot of curry!

We made our way to the food tent to pick up a taste of the (vegetarian!) buffet. I have no idea what I ate, but I was in heaven. The event planner in me was absolutely amazed to see these people dressed in saris sitting on plastic chairs and make-shift set up tables. Such a different concept of what makes a good party.

Everywhere Tony and I would walk we drew attention as the only whites in the crowd. We would pass a group and immediately they would stop talking and stare at us. Tony and I used to call it sari-envy. We would watch the women looking each other up and down and figured I was drawing the same with my fab sari.

The final part of the ceremony was definitely my favorite. It was the scene of sobs. Historically the bride would leave the ceremony and go to her husband’s village never to return to her family, hence the tears. When the time came, the bride just broke into sobs. All of the family around her was just an emotional wreck. The bride was now going to live at her husband’s family apartment despite the fact that he was heading to the US and that her parents live 5 minutes away. I guess I could understand why she was in tears.

At the end of the ceremony we were exhausted. Our friends were going home to change to get ready for the reception that night. They had to do it all over again.