Catavino is Back in Spain: The Customs, Culture and Cuisine of India(1)

Sitting at the keyboard with henna painted fingers, my clothing infused with rich cumin, cardamom and ginger aromas, I am at a loss as to how to put into words this experience. Having arrived last Sunday night by plane, we came to Delhi in delirious anticipation for Ryan’s cousin’s wedding. A Minnesota born and bred musician, he had met his Indian bride in an African drumming assemble at Macalester and chose to follow the Bengali marriage traditions by meticulously organizing a five day wedding celebration in New Delhi, India. But no matter how much we had read on the city, and regardless of how many people we chatted with regarding the local customs and rituals, nothing could have prepared us for the complete chaos, enchanting beauty, cultural abstraction, exhaustion or elation we’ve experienced over the past week. From 8 hour musical and gastronomic gluttony under orange and white magnolia lined tents to the fear and excitement following the Mumbai bombings, our nerves and emotions have hit every possible chord in the human landscape.

We experienced heartfelt traditional Hindu songs from 3 generations of women giving their love, adoration and hope to the interracial couple before marriage. Doors were warmly opened to 60+ family and friends who have flown from all over the world to experience this unique and awe inspiring event, among another 600+ attendees who arrived by plane, train, automobile, rickshaw and horse drawn carriage from across India.

We chose to wear the traditional Indian wedding attire, which meant two very different outfits for both Ryan and I. For Ryan, he wore an orange silk long sleeve shirt which fell to his mid thigh, along with silk pants that were ridiculously tight around the ankles and huge around the tuckus - allowing for ample space to grow when eating from the 20 foot long buffet. For me, I wore a bindi (a dot or jewel placed on the forehead between the eyebrows that historically signified a woman’s age, marriage status, religious background or ethnic affiliation; however, the red dot still signifies marriage to many women), a silk hand-embroidered tunic that also fell to my knees, a long bead embroidered scarf, silk genie pants that where relatively baggy throughout, hands decorated in henna patterns of swirls, leaves and flowers, along with colorful bangles.

We experienced a two and a half hour marriage ceremony (reduced from 4 hours for the westerner’s benefit) wrapped in Sanskrit words of love and peace for the couple, their community and the world, while attendees drank, ate and communed throughout the event. Put another way, imagine going to decked out garden wedding where the priest is chanting, singing and praying to the Gods with both the bride and groom under a brilliant red and orange tent of magnolias while you are milling around drinking, taking photos and listening to the tapa drum. It was the essence of experiencing without feeling pressured by one’s spiritual practices.