Christian Wedding in Chennai

Last Friday my housekeeper’s parents paid me a visit. The mother opened her cloth bag and produced a silver tray and gently placed a variety of fruits on it. As the family presented the tray to me, I was also given a wedding invitation. Written in both Tamil (Sanskrit-like writing) and English, they explained that their son was getting married on Monday and that I was invited to be an honored guest. The ceremony and reception would be held at their large Pentecostal church. Indicating that I would attend, the family was pleased and in their broken English told me that they were looking forward to seeing me there.

Waiting for the Ceremony
Arriving at the requested time, I took a few photos of a bride posing outside in her white western-style gown, complete with a veil. Upon entering the entryway of the church, I was presented with a bulletin, upon which another couple’s name was written. A bit baffled, I presented my invitation and asked where this wedding was taking place. Walking up two flights of stairs, I entered a room filled with chairs, a small “stage” in front, drum set, and electronic keyboard. Noticing a few simple floral arrangements, I surmised I must be in the correct place, but the fact that there were so few people in the room bothered me.

Bringing out my invitation once again, I showed it to the older lady in front of me and asked her if I was in the right room. Looking at the Tamil section, she smiled and nodded. A young woman then sat across from me, introducing herself as a good friend of my housekeeper. Her middle school-age son and teenage daughter were also quite friendly and engaged in conversation. Her English was quite understandable, making conversing easier and time pass by more quickly as more people finally began filing into the room. Quite frequently someone would come up to me, bowing their head slightly and placing their palms together, smiling and then gently shaking my hand in a gesture of honor. Others shyly smiled from a their seats, waving at me. With a large percentage of the women wearing a bindi forehead decoration and their young children’s faces marked with the dark splotches to scare away evil spirits, it would be hard to distinguish these Christians from their Hindu counterparts. Some did wear cross necklaces in addition to other gold jewelry around their neck, wrists, ears, nose, and hair. Strands of jasmine adorned the braided shiny hair of most females.

An Honored Guest
As soon as my housekeeper’s family spotted me (not hard since I was the only white person there), large grins emerged and they came up to welcome me. The mother was wearing a special wedding silk sari, decorated with gold thread. My housekeeper’s toddler daughter was wearing an elaborate outfit and heeled sandals that cost over a month’s salary. Surprisingly, the father was wearing a very plain outfit that reminded me of a safari uniform. Soon I met the rest of the family. Indeed, they were glad I was there.

Wedding Ceremony
Finally the bride arrived, sitting next to the groom in red plastic chairs. He wore a suit and tie and she wore a pretty green wedding sari (also decorated with gold thread) accentuated with layers of gold jewelry and decorations in her “put up” braided hair. Her face was lightly concealed by a simple white veil.

The service was conducted in Tamil, leaving me to understand nothing except for a few Amens and “Jesu” phrases. I tried to focus on what was going on, but often found myself looking at the saris enveloping the bodies of even the simple villagers, contrasting with their feet worn rough by walking barefoot. People sang songs by heart, led by one of the several ministers and accompanied by the keyboard. The women around me began clapping to the music, some placing part of their elaborate sari cloth over their head. Elderly women spontaneously lifted their right hand in the air, waving bony worn fingers gently back and forth to the music. Lengthy wedding vows were exchanged. The ceremony, it seemed, had combinations of a western church wedding combined with aspects that seemed more Indian.

Reception Hall
With the service now over, people filed out of the room, out of the church, and into a sheltered area next to the church. Long narrow tables were quickly filled, with banana leaves promptly placed in front of each person on the paper tablecloth. I was ushered to sit near the stage decorated with flowers (potted and cut) and a silver sofa, cooled on each side by fans. Shortly thereafter the wedding couple arrived, taking their seat on the throne-like sofa. Standing up, the wedding couple was presented with thick garlands of cream-colored flowers embellished with red ones. The bride and groom nervously handled a bouquet of jasmine and red flowers. The official wedding photographer and video person continued to capture all events including sometimes panning the audience, Just as they did during the ceremony. I was given a bottle of cold Pepsi, a welcome item so I didn’t have to worry about drinking the water later. More people came up and greeted me, seemingly honored just to have me in their presence. One even nudged her chair as close to mine as possible as if I exuded some special aura. Only able to get in a few photos (the official photographers stood on chairs directly in my line of sight), I was then led up onto the stage as part of the family photograph (women only). It felt strange, as I was basically a stranger being given a place of honor because I was white. Out of respect for the family, I obliged.

Chow Time
I then was directed to grab my backpack (I came directly from school so I wouldn’t be late) and head up to the eating tables. Fresh paper was rolled over the tables ready for the next batch of eaters. Observing the person next to me, I washed my banana leaf with a small amount of water. Food was quickly plopped onto our leaves, after which we began scooping up the rice, sauce, and onion salad with our right hand. A small banana and ice cream was offered for dessert. I was consciously aware of the next table of people facing me, watching me as I clumsily put the food into my mouth. The person next to me and I were offered extra pieces of chicken and second helpings, but I politely declined. It would take me longer to eat what I had anyway, not being adept at this finger eating. My right hand sticky and greasy, I poured a bit of water into my hand and tried to wash it. From the quizzical looks of the person sitting next to me, I sensed that it probably wasn’t the practice. I took out a Kleenex and dried off my hand and then placed it inside my folded banana leaf, indicating that I was finished. As soon as I got up, someone else took my place for yet another round of eating. My housekeeper then led me past the massive cauldron of rice and the other food items and out to a waiting auto rickshaw. Thanking her for the evening and for inviting me, I was now on my way back to my apartment, thus completing my first Indian wedding.

Tweet

Pin It