My Musical Alarm Clock

I was shocked awake at 3:15 on the morning of the 11th. A band, complete with drums and sax had set up shop outside the house. When I told Ganga the neighbors would surly kill us, he reminded me most of the neighbors were relatives and all were coming to the wedding anyway.
The time of day in which you are married in India is based on mookta. This means that the Brahmin priest who performs the ceremony selects the date and time based on a combination of personal and global astrological movements. Had anyone ever suggested to me that my horoscope would have me awake at 3 in the morning, I would have laughed. I am a much wiser soul now; wiser, and more sleep-deprived. “Our time” was dictated by the Brahmin who was to marry us to be at 8:41 in the morning. This meant that all the pre-wedding prep started in the early morning hours and the wedding ended in a luncheon. Ganga told me that he’s also been to late night weddings where dinner happens first and everyone waits until midnight or so to start the ceremony. So, in some ways, we were better off in the morning.
After being told there was lots to do and we had to hurry, Ganga and I were made to wait in the bedroom for about half an hour. An uncle came by and got Ganga. He came back a few minutes later in a skirt. Well, not really a skirt but a traditional Indian man-thing that resembled a wrap around pencil skirt. After checking to make sure I was still okay, he left again – leaving me with no information as to what was coming. A cousin came by with flowers for my hair. They were tiny and woven into a chain with thread, quite pretty and a lot of work for a day’s wear, but that’s what wedding are about everywhere, right? I got dressed in one of the outfits I had picked out a week or so before and had been saving. Then, I had to change into a sari that was lent by Ganga’s mother. It was to be the first of four outfits I would wear that day.
A few minutes later Ganga came back and it looked like he had been basted for cooking. He had turmeric and saffron on his head, ghee (clarified butter) on his arms, neck and face, and uncooked rice sticking in his hair. It was my turn. I was a little concerned.
I was given a betel leaf, a large leaf that looked to me like a banana leaf, and a banana to hold. I sat in front of the house with Hala, Ganga’s cousin’s daughter who was to be my bridesmaid/flower girl. Things happened around me, mostly chanting and I think some praying. Then, individual women came by and dropped uncooked rice, turmeric and saffron on my head. This is some sort of fertility ritual. Later, Ganga’s mother rubbed my arm and neck with clarified butter. At this point, I was told to go back inside and rinse off.
Cleaning accomplished, I returned to the street with Ganga where we sat together and were pelted with more rice by happy couples. Then, a “barber” came by to symbolically cut our toenails. Yes, part of the pre-wedding ritual in India used to be to get one’s toenail’s cut – ostensibly so one didn’t scratch their partner on the wedding night. Luckily, this tradition had gone the way of the dodo, so there is just a symbolic cutting now. I’ve included some pictures. Next up: the actual ceremony.