Celebrations

“Festivals and Weddings”

One of the things I enjoy most about this culture is the amount of holidays, festivals, and celebrations। It seems there is always an excuse to have a party here. This past week I was lucky enough to be able to join in two such events. The first was a housewarming party of a family I had never met before. (It is not uncommon to get invitations from friends of the family even if you have never directly met the family). The housewarming party is an event in which many people are invited to come and more or less bless the house before I family moves in. There was a prayer service and after the service a grand feast in which we were served fried rice, some rather scrumptious chicken curry, and ice-cream (which here is more like frozen whipped cream). After the banquet we took a tour around the new house. Many of the rooms were newly painted and void of any furniture. The group of friends I was with found a room where we could sit. After a while of talking, we started having some arm wrestling matches, or as they like to call it “arm punching” matches on the floor, due to the lack of furniture. This turned into Rebecca and I breaking out some gymnastic moves and yoga poses, which then escalated into a full out dance exchange complete with lessons. One of the little girls, I am guessing around the age of twelve or thirteen was peeping in through the doorway with a great deal or interest. I asked my friend Bijo to ask her in Malayalam if she would be willing to teach me some dance moves. There was an initial hesitation, understandably since we were much older and complete strangers, but eventually the little girl overcame her shyness and began to dance for us, She preformed a classical style of Indian dance, complete with head and eye movements. She then walked me step by step through the classical movements, humming while she taught. It was a wonderful moment witnessed by a large group of people who were beginning to crowd around the doorway. Here we were, one younger, one older, one Indian, one American, one whose native tongue was English, one whose native tongue was Malayalam yet we both shared a mutual love for dancing. It was our love for dancing that seemed to dissolve any existing differences between us. Suddenly we were simultaneously teaching and learning from one another. And through dancing we were able to have a beautiful conversation that embraced our differences and expressed our joy more then any words ever could.

The following day was the day of the wedding. We spent a good chunk of the morning putting on our sari’s or rather closely watching Ancy, our native Kerelan friend, well-versed in sari wearing, dress us. Putting on a sari, I have found, is as much of an art as wearing one, with all the delicately placed folds. A sari is basically a giant piece of cloth that you wrap around your body in such a way that makes every woman look like royalty. After fixing our hair and putting on gold jewelry, we officially looked like Indian women, with the exception of our skin tone. When we arrived at Holy Trinity, the cathedral in Kottayam, Veena, the bride’s sister whom we acquainted introduced us to the bride for the first time (like I said this is not uncommon). Around a thousand people were there, including fifty priests or “Achens”. I discovered shortly after getting there that the bride was actually a daughter of a priest which would explain the band of priests. The ceremony was beautiful and although I didn’t understand much, I did understand some of the rituals, which I inquired about before the wedding. One my favorite rituals was when the groom tied around the neck of his bride, a thread which he had removed from her wedding sari before hand. I believe this symbolized the tying together of two lives. The groom then, according to custom, draped a piece of embroidered cloth over the bride’s head. The cloth was part of the second wedding sari, which the bride changed into after the wedding for the reception. I enjoyed watching both of these rituals but the one thing that made me aware I was at a wedding, that I was witnessing a union between two persons who were making a life-long commitment, was the song they sang towards the end of the service, in English. I don’t know if it was the words of the song, its gentle yet powerful melody, the voices in pure harmony, or the simple fact that it was one of the only things I could understand (probably a combination of all) but something about that song stirred deep in my soul and tears started to swell in my eyes. The sounds echoed off the high ceilings…

“O Perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne,
That theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
Whom Thou for evermore dost join in one.

O Perfect Life, be Thou their full assurance
Of tender charity and steadfast faith
Of patient hope, and quiet brave endurance,
With childlike trust that fears no pain or death.

Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow,
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife,
And to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow
That dawns upon eternal love and life. Amen.”


A truly beautiful song expressing a truly beautiful event, two lives becoming one. I have learned so much about relationships in India; things that baffle me and at the same time make sense. In Kerela, most marriages are arranged marriages, although it is beginning to change. Before, it was not uncommon that you did not know the person you were going to marry until the day of your wedding. Although those types of marriages still exist, it is more common now for the girl to be introduced to the man her parents have found for her before the wedding. They then spend a few months getting to know each other before deciding if they want do be married. There are also the rare cases in which the parents allow their son or daughter to marry a person of their choice, only with parental approval. Love marriages as they call them, like we have in the U.S., are extremely uncommon and sometimes involve a couple eloping. This is mainly because parental permission is extremely important in this society. Although I personally cannot imagine my parents finding a future husband for me, it makes sense that in this culture, where family bonds are so incredibly close, that your parents, who love and care about you more then anyone else, want only the best match for their child. It is said here that in love marriages, love begins before the marriage, but in arranged marriages love begins at the wedding and only grows from there. In arranged marriages the feelings of “inloveness” and “happiness” are not factors in choosing a mate. Instead, you make a commitment to a person who is believed to be a good partner, then, only after the marriage can your love grow. I am not saying one way is better then the other, in fact I myself prefer falling in love before getting married but I understand how in arranged marriages you chose a husband or a wife, not on the basis of your happiness with them, but on the basis that they will be a good partner to you, someone committed to being a part of your family. And from what I have witnessed these people are serious about their commitments. I think Americans who greatly value their individuality, can really learn some things from the interdependent way of life I have observed in India.