Rented buses to transport the guests who had walked from the groom’s house to the roadside were now arriving. Men were still dancing, kids were still lighting fireworks. The celebration, I was soon learning, had just begun for the night.

Rakesh drove me and some friends to a tea stall several kms away in a neighboring market. Apparently we were stopping for refreshments and to regroup before moving on to the bride’s house. Loud chatter mixed with laughs and good hearted banter was already in progress when we arrived. Tea was passed around as well as some various great tasting sweet treats. My presence seemed to be a non issue until a well known local man got hold of me. He had been drinking too much, saw me and I became his new pet project. For several minutes he tried arguing the need for me to stay with other overnight guests in the village. I would have a mat on the ground, breakfast and be off by 10 A.M. the next morning, he assured me of this. Trying to communicate with a drunken Hindi speaking man at night, on a roadside in front of an audience of strangers was not my idea of blending in.

Some time later I freed myself from the attention of the drunkard just as the group was wrapping up their tea and sweets. I began questioning what the process was for the remaining hours in the night. It was quickly coming up on 8 P.M. and we had yet to eat. My ideal dinner time is 5 with hunger crankiness kicking in around 7 P.M. Remember Chris, try to have fun…this is a one time opportunity.

Once again I was riding with Rakesh and friends to a new destination. The rented buses were parked just ahead on the roadside when we pulled up to a lone light shining on the ground. A gravel T-track driveway lay just next to the light pole that served as our only guide down to a grassy area. There were more people now, I was having some trouble picking out familiar faces. The wedding band was playing, men were dancing, cliques were forming in corners. At the end of the walk was a small one room temple with a covered breezeway and shrine. Chairs had been set up for those that wanted to sit. Inside the empty room of the temple was the groom with his family and a few friends. There certainly wasn’t much room for many bodies. I tried to grab a closer look but as soon as I went in, I was just as quickly forced to leave by the influx of other wandering eyes coming through the door. There just was no room for that many people and I couldn’t get to my camera. Through the window I could see the groom being filmed collecting even more gifts. These seemed to be from the family, more personal in nature. Blankets seemed to be a popular or symbolic gift item.

I sat down in the breezeway among mostly older men. The mood was peaceful, nearly no conversation among the men. As I moved my eyes from face to face around the room, each face looked back at me. They were just as curious about me as I was them. The old cliche was true. Each man had a story to tell that I would liked to have heard but instead, we sat listening, watching, wondering. The drunk man from earlier walked past but not before I saw him and quickly turned my face away. Fortunately he walked by without noticing me thus ending any more uncomfortable conversation. As I scanned the group of men watching the drunk man breeze by, my eyes caught those of an gentleman directly across from me. Without any words he coyly flashed a small smirk with a devilish look in his eyes as if he was thinking exactly what I was. I responded in similar fashion bringing a bigger grin from the man.

A new event was starting just beyond the temple. In a grassy field, with the camera rolling, each side of the wedding party was present. This ritual had the brother of the groom walk up and shake hands with the brother of the bride. Next would be uncles, cousins, grandfathers and so on until both father’s met. A priest from each side gave blessings for the marriage. Fireworks continued to snap and crackle throughout this ritual ceremony. Once complete, the crowd walked a short distance through a field where we could see a wedding awning jutting out from a good size house. A ribbon was tied around the front awning posts barring entry. Waiting behind the ribbon were the female family members of the bride. In this ritual, the females cut the ribbon allowing the groom and his male family members to enter the bride’s home. The same carriage used to carry the groom away from his house earlier was now carrying him into the courtyard of his soon to be wife’s home.

The courtyard was laid out with the same type mat used for lunch. Guests took seats up and down the rows in anticipation for dinner. Once again, chairs were set out for Rakesh and I to eat on. Metal tray plates with utensils were supplied as well. The same routine played out as I had first seen at lunch; men walked up and down the rows passing out food onto dried leaf plates. Rice with peas, several types of dal, a few other dishes and a sweet were piled on our plates. I could sense eyes were on me to gauge my impression of the food which I had no trouble enjoying. Seconds were passed out and those that didn’t take more broke out into light conversation.

I was just becoming comfortable when, with no warning, no signal given, the entire crowd stood up and left the courtyard. As quickly as they had filed in, they walked out. All Rakesh could do was laugh at my response. It was such an odd sight. Once dinner was served the guests leave. Anyone who wishes to stay on may, however I didn’t understand this part. Rakesh was explaining so many things while we walked through the departing crowd. Back in the car with his friends, Rakesh began driving back to the hotel. I mentioned to Rakesh how odd it was that I never saw the bride throughout the entire day. And wasn’t it odd that we just left after dinner? When was the actual ceremony? Unfortunately I then learned that the bride would be coming out after the dinner guests left and then the ceremony would start. Damn!

Rakesh offered to go back but by now it was reaching 11:30 P.M. We had risen early that morning in order to make the drive to the village in time. We were both tired & full. I was processing the events of the day. In my mind, I had missed the two most important parts of the wedding. But then I thought, for Rakesh, he had made his appearance and presented his gift to the groom, eaten their food and brought a foreign guest. The wedding had been a success.

A week later Rakesh and I were back in the village. While driving about the area we past the groom waiting at a bus shelter. We backed up so the two of them could talk. As we drove off, I asked how the new husband was adjusting to married life and his wife. The groom, Rakesh was happy to report, was doing just fine and didn’t I see his wife standing behind him? No, no I did not.