India Redux: Family celebrations

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December 17th 2007

Published: December 20th 2007

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Breathedreamgo

naming day

With my Indian family

December 2007

The snow is falling, heavily, here in Toronto, and I am casting my mind back to the last two weeks I spent in India. The two highlights were Jaidev's naming day and the wedding of Ajay's cousin. In between, I made a new friend, Divya, spent a day at Qtub Minar, one of Delhi's world heritage sites (the city has four!), went shopping and TRIED to go see the hit movie, Om Shanti Om (with no success).

I felt very honoured and privileged to be part of the baby's naming ceremony, a very big occasion in every Indian child's life. Jaidev is Ajay's baby nephew, born in September. The family postponed the ceremony so that I could attend, and it was really great that we were all there, including the baby's very proud Tau (tau means father's elder brother, and it is what Varada calls Ajay -- I can hear her calling Taaauuuuu!! just now, as I think of it).

The caterers started setting up the day before. It was a big job to cover the entire terrace with a tent, and string long garlands of leaves and marigolds. They also set up fabric-covered chairs and

naming day

The pandit adding ghee to the fire during the puja

a long series of tables for the food stations. In the morning, mattresses were stripped off some of the beds (Indian mattresses are quite thin compared to ours, more like futons) and placed on the floor in the living room for the puja (religious ritual). A pandit (priest) arrived, and then close relatives. We gathered on the cushions on the floor, sans shoes of course, around a metal fire pit, for the puja. I was appointed the "official photographer" (as I had brought my fancy new digital SLR camera with me).

The pandit conducted the naming ceremony in Sanskrit and Hindi, so I couldn't really follow the nuances of what was happening, but I just did what everyone else did. We threw a mixture of herbs and leaves into the fire and chanted the Gayatri Mantra (Varada was amazed I knew it!) while the pandit built a roaring fire in the fire pit. I was almost alarmed at the size of the fire, and the amount of smoke it was emitting, right there in the living room, but everyone else seemed calm, and they told me the smoke was purifying the house. The baby seemed to enjoy himself, perhaps

naming day

Pouring water during the puja

not realizing he was the centre of attention: he was wreathed in garlands and showered with rose petals, gifts were distributed and it was a solemn, joyous and fun celebration. The baby was officially given his name, and his proud parents (and sister, grandparents, uncle, "aunty" -- me --- and all the other relatives) beamed.

When the ceremony was over, we moved onto the terrace, the rest of the guests began arriving and lunch was served. It was very warm on the terrace, even with the white awning overhead, but I loved it. To be really warm, almost hot, in mid-November ... that's the definition of happiness for a Canadian! I was happy to see the relatives I knew, and to meet even more. (Indian families seem to have an unending supply of relatives. So different then my family. I admire the way they stick together.) Also happy to eat very delicious food and kulfi (an ice cream type treat, flavoured with mango, pistachio, cardamom or other lovely spices). I think I had three sticks of it. Yummy. And I enjoyed wearing a silk saree that I had bought when I was in Mysore in 2006 (and had never

naming day

Pouring water during the puja

worn before). Mysore is one of those many places in India -- like Kancheepuram and Benares -- famed for its silk sarees. But the type of silk and the style of the saree is different in each place.

After the baby's naming day ceremony we had one or two quiet days before "wedding week" started. This is when I began TRYING to go see the new hit film Om Shanti Om, starring (my favourite Bollywood star) Shahrukh Khan (SRK). It's so funny about India: some things are so much easier over there, such as yoga, meditation, social intimacy, spiritual insight, finding beauty, feeling inspiration, having faith, getting help, so many things. But on the more practical, materialistic side of life, things can be challenging. India is not known for being efficient or organized! So ... I tried to get tickets to the movie (necessary to get them ahead of time because of the high demand), but one thing or another stood in my way. For example, the closest movie theatre, the Satyam in Nehru Place, didn't answer their phone, and neither did their internet site work. In other words, there was no way to order tickets from the theatre.

naming day

Uncle and Grandmother listening to the pandit

No one seemed surprised by this, and one person told me it was probably deliberate. Sometimes, the decisions made in India are very hard to understand for someone who comes from a country like Canada that values efficiency, organization and profit. I was sorry to miss out seeing SRK in a hit movie in a big Indian movie house -- it would have been fun.

I was just now thinking of a woman I met in Dharamsala (in April 2006) who remarked to me that "one doesn't come to India for Bollywood." I said, "I do!" I am very interested in having all kinds of cultural experiences in India -- I really don't discriminate the way some foreigners do, especially the ones who only want to experience "spiritual" India or those who insist that you have to slavishly follow the backpacker's route to find the "real India." I don't buy any of it. To me, everything in India is India, and quite frankly I am interested in all of it. I even read the newspaper when I am there, which I don't do over here. I find Indians comparatively much more accepting and tolerant, and less judgmental, than westerners.

naming day

The baby's beautiful mother, Meera

This attitude seems to me to be perpetuated in their philosophical and religious teachings (in Hinduism and yoga, at least). So I find running into western judgmentalism quite shocking when I am over there -- whether it's in me or others. India teaches different people different things, but I think one of the big things to be learned from going there (for me, anyway) is to have faith, go with the flow, be open and just live in the moment, dropping as much of the western tendency towards analysis, judgment and expectation as possible. In fact, you really have to do this or the place will drive you mad!

I also find myself more and more interested in the history of Delhi, and have read several fascinating books about the city (and I am reading several more). In fact, I even have an "on-spec" assignment to write an article about Delhi as an historical city. So, Ajay and I took an afternoon and went out as "tourists" to the Qtub Minar complex. The Qtub Minar is a very old red sandstone tower (a minar is a tower) and the various tombs, towers and mosques in the complex date from

naming day

The fire really roared during the puja for the baby

the 8th to the 12th century. (The remains of India's oldest mosque are found here.) It's a lovely place to spend a late afternoon, as the buildings are surrounded by a wide expanse of lawns and gardens. The sky turns pink at dusk, making the pink stone buildings even more vivid.

The Qtub Minar is just one of four world heritage sites in Delhi, and just one of the many, many historical monuments and ruins that you can visit in the NCR (national capital region). Delhi has always been an important site, geographically and politically, and consequently many different kingdoms have made the area their capital. And each have left behind ruins and monuments.

I went to the Qtub Minar (which I have visited before) to take pictures using my new 10.1 megapixel, digital SLR camera. Newspaper and magazine travel sections demand high-quality pictures to accompany travel stories. My plan was also to visit several other famous Delhi sites, such as the Lal Qila (Red Fort), the Purana Qila (the Old Fort) or Humuyan's Tomb, and take pictures. However, I couldn't seem to organize myself to get there. Perhaps I ran out of time, or perhaps I just

naming day

Receiving gifts during the puja

ran up against a kind of cultural resistance to productivity that I have often felt in India. As I said before, it's sometimes hard to get things done ... and it's hard to put your finger on the problem. I laugh to think of yoga teacher Kausthub Desikachar's explanation: he said that in India there are many gods that represent many different aspects of life, and to whom you pray for many different things, but there is no god to pray to for organization.

I finally decided, rightly or wrongly, that what I really need is a good driver, someone who knows the city and who can speak enough English to understand what it is I want to do (make quick visits to historical sites at times of day when the light is optimum for taking pictures). But before I could begin to find such a person, I really did run out of time and had to come home. So now I have to go back to finish my assignment ....

The main reason I ran out of time was "wedding week." Most of the last week or so that we were in India, Ajay and I were

naming day

Ajay's Mom directing the set-up in one of her amazing sarees

occupied by going to the many social and ceremonial functions involved with his cousin's wedding. Ajay told me that it would be a spectacular affair, but I don't think I was prepared for the lavishness. I definitely underestimated the amount of personal energy and serious wardrobe it would require. Each function required a specific "grade" of "suit" (salwar Kameez) or saree, ranging from the top-quality to the stupendous. I was simply agog watching the women in their finery at this upper-crust wedding, and realized early on I could not possibly compete. I just don't have the clothes, the fashion sense or the jewellery. You really have to know what you're doing to wear the right thing. Kind of like being in a Jane Austen novel, but set in modern-day, Bollywood-inspired, upper class Delhi.

The first function I attended, with the other women of the household (the men all stayed home), was the puja at the groom's house. The groom, Sawan, is Ajay's cousin: his mother and Ajay's mother are sisters. So we were in the family inner circle, on the "boy's side," as the groom is called. (The bride is called the "girl.") The "boy" is in his 30s,

naming day

Varada and her maternal Grandmother

but never mind, he's still the "boy." This puja took place at the boy's parents house, south of Delhi -- a very nice big house surrounded by a big lawn. Most of the lawn was covered by a marquee -- awning drapery that extended out from the top of the two-storey house and created a huge L-shaped "room" along the side and back of the house. For the puja, the awning material was in shades of purple; later that week we came back for another function and the awnings were in shades of white and marigold orange. The puja was followed by a performance by ISKON devotees (people chanting Hari Krishna, as well as dancing and playing musical instruments). In total, we were seated (on the floor) for about three hours. Afterwards, we were treated to a long series of food stations serving top-quality "snack" foods from all across India -- dosas from the south, bhel puri from Bombay, kashmiri tea and much more.

I didn't feel like lugging my new big camera around with me -- I just wanted to fit in, and socialize with the family -- so I don't have a lot of pictures. To be

naming day

Varada and her paternal Grandmother

honest, I was also overwhelmed by the whole experience. I wouldn't have known what to take pictures of! There was so much! So I have only included pictures I took at a luncheon that took place on the lawn of another gorgeous south-of-Delhi house. At this function, the bride and groom entered in a horse-drawn carriage lavishly decorated with flowers. There were speeches, lunch was served on the lawn under colourful tents and the ladies had their wedding mehndi (henna) done. I made the mistake of having the mehndi applied to my hands before lunch, which made eating very tricky. I dropped food all over my pale green silk saree -- another saree I bought when I was in the south, but had never worn before.

The next night was the engagement ceremony. This was held at the bride's uncle's "farm house" south of Delhi. Farm house. Believe me, a Delhi farm house is as far from a rural Canadian farm house as you can imagine. I have NEVER in my life seen a house, or a property, like this one. Enormous wide expanse of lawn, 20 acres at least, graced here with an exquisite south Indian pavilion, there

naming day

Indian women wear such beautiful, and colourful, clothing

with a huge Roman-esque fountain. The house itself looked to me like an enormous public art gallery. It was a very long, two-storey building, with pillars running across the length of it and topped by a dome. Varada and I went inside, and wandered through large, airy marble rooms decorated with museum quality pieces, and I taught her how do to pirouettes in the massive, empty ballroom.

The function was on the lawn (actually just one corner of the massive lawn!), and the caterers had outdone themselves. Awnings in white and decorations in white and silver, tiny mirrors sparkling, purple and white flowers draped over everything, huge round tables, upholstered chairs, tents, heaters, waiters -- you name it. The effect was lovely, lavish and classy. The ceremonies took place on stage, and a couple of large screens were set up so that everyone could easily see the videotaped proceedings. Good thing, too, as the front of the stage was flanked with photographers like paparazzi, making it hard to see past them. I was too bedazzled by everything -- including all the beaded and sequined sarees and the approximately 50 food stations, stretching along the lawn for about as far

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A happy moment after the naming puja

as the eye could see -- to pay close attention to the ceremonies, but the bride and groom seemed to exchange rings and then were presented with gifts. I didn't see the gifts, but I can only imagine. Given the magnitude of the jewellery almost every woman was sporting, the jewellery gifts must have been something. Later, a DJ started playing very loud Bollywood tunes and people danced on a dance stage. At about midnight or 1 pm, people started eating, in the usual late night Indian fashion.

Several nights later, the wedding itself took place at this same house, on a different part of the lawn (ranged around a graceful marble pavilion) and the awning and tent colours were in rich red and gold. It was stupendous. I completely missed the bharat, probably the most important of all the functions and ceremonies because a) the tailor hadn't sent back my altered fuschia silk saree blouse in time; b) I didn't realize what I was missing (I do now!!); and c) I was exhausted after a week of late-night functions.

The bharat is where the groom's family gathers amidst song, music and revelry to "parade" the groom, on

Qtub Minar

horseback (sometimes even elephant!) over to the bride's house. Apparently, it was really something when the "parade" arrived at the house where the wedding was taking place .... but alas, I missed it. When we arrived at the house, the wedding ceremony was in full swing. A large group of people were seated around a big fire pit and the pandit was conducting the ceremony. Again, it was video-taped and displayed on a screen. Indians are far more casual than we are about these things, so lots of people were eating appetizers and having drinks on the lawn while the ceremony was taking place. Indian rituals, ceremonies and temples always seem a bit like joyful free-for-alls, to me -- so different then the rigid, solemn Catholic church-going experiences of my early years.

I was quite tired by this time and just didn't have the capacity to really pay attention to the ceremony. Ajay and I spent some time talking to a couple of the Americans who were there. The groom works in the U.S., and he invited about 40 people over to India for the wedding. They sort of stuck together, and seemed a bit awkward -- most of

Qtub Minar tomb

them had never been to India before. After the wedding, nine-year-old Varada said something to me that I loved hearing: she said that I didn't seem to be like other foreigners. She noticed what I felt. At the wedding, and in many other situations in India, I don't exactly feel like a foreigner. I feel more Indian. Certainly at the wedding, I felt completely a part of Ajay's family. A wonderful feeling. And such a privilege, such a gift.

So many seekers make pilgrimages to India, in search of spiritual enlightenment, adventure, inner knowledge and who knows what else. But how many find themselves "adopted" by a loving Indian family, the way I have been. When I initially left for India in December of 2005, I felt I was jumping off the cliff, stepping into the unknown. I had no idea what was going to happen. I just knew I HAD to go to India. Everyone has their own unique path, their own karma. I marvel at mine, and feel so grateful.

Speaking of grateful, although I felt a bit like Cinderella at this sumptuous wedding, I was very grateful to Ajay's Mom for loaning me a couple

Qtub Minar doorway

of rich silk wedding sarees (I just had to have my own blouses made to match) and for loaning me some stunning (real!) jewellry to wear as well. I absolutely loved the gold tissue-silk saree I wore on the night of the wedding ceremony. It was classy and beautiful, though many of the younger women, especially, were wearing sarees and lenghas that were heavily beaded and sequined. I gather this is the latest fashion.

Unfortunately, the wedding ended for me feeling a little TOO much like Cinderella. As it was winding down at about 1 or 2 am, and the richly dressed and bejewelled bride was getting ready to be carried out in a palanquin, Ajay threw a heavy garland of white flowers at me, and accidentally hit me unawares in the side of the head. I was tired by then, and probably feeling overwhlemed, and the shock of it strained my neck muscles and made me start to cry. I ran into the bathroom and then couldn't stop crying! It was embarrassing, but what can you do? I probably needed to release something.

But on the way home, we picked up Jaidev, the baby, from Meera's Mother's