DANGEROUS ARRANGEMENTS

THE BRIDLED BRIDE

But, morning always came.

And this time it came knocking by way of Leela the housekeeper at 6 am. Carefully placing a hot cup of tea on the nightstand beside me, she lovingly reached her hand out to mine, letting me know that my parents and relatives had asked her to wake me to get ready for my wedding.

I replied that I would be down in a few minutes.

After she left, I sat up in bed and did my best to prepare for the day ahead. The house was already starting to fill up with people and a wedding photography team who was setting up camera lights in every corner of the house. There was a great deal of busyness taking place around me as everyone ran to and fro, preparing to leave for the venue where the wedding was to take place.

Nobody said much to me, including my parents, who were completely caught up in the guests who were there that morning, most of whom I didn't know.

After I got dressed, I stepped outside of the house and into the third world heat where everyone was gathered and attempting to configure out who was going into which car.

I rode with my parents and one of my aunts to the hotel located next to the wedding hall, which was a relatively short drive from my father's home.

Once we arrived, I got out of the car and hoped that I would be left alone for a few moments to gather my thoughts, which were now afar off.

But, no such luck as I was quickly tugged by my aunts and then cousins into a room to wait for the hair and make-up team to arrive. 

The wedding was set to start at 10 a.m. sharp, but there's no such thing amongst Indians.

Indian Standard Time in the US for weddings was always an hour late, and in India it was no less than two hours late.

Once my hair and make-up were done and I was picture-perfect, my parents led me outside to a car covered in flowers which was to take us to the venue.

The driver of the car slowly drove us through the open black iron gates of the wedding venue where I was met by no less than 400 guests, most of whom I failed to recognize.

I was already so exhausted, and yet equally aware that I still had a full day ahead of me.

Once the vehicle came to a complete stop, I was escorted out of the car and into the venue which was completely laced in red and white flowers.

There wasn't a dress rehearsal the night before and no itinerary or plan to follow. 

And because of that, my father just reached for my hand and sped walked me down the aisle, up the stairs and onto the stage, positioning me next to the groom.

No "Here Comes the Bride" playing in the background and no special hand-in-hand waltz down the aisle with my father.

There were no sweet little flower girls tossing flower petals or a bridal party either.

There wasn't even an emotional groom tearfully awaiting my arrival.

However, what was present was a line of guest speakers seated to the right of the stage and an auditorium full of guests seated behind us. The ceremony moved slothfully as the endless list of Pentecostal clergymen got up, one after another, to bestow their "wisdom" concerning the do's and don'ts of marriage.