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Wedding belles

The VVIP wedding season in India is in full swing. Tanya Godrej of the 'Cinthol and Storewell' Godrej family married a Dubash in what was described by the local media as 'the mother of VIP weddings'. Very soon, Shweta Bachchan will marry Nikhil Nanda. Priyanka Gandhi is all set to wed to Robert Vadhera and I am looking forward to reading glowing reports about the wedding.

VVIP weddings have now developed an international touch. The hosts invite hundreds of foreign guests who are displayed to the media as status symbols. If the Godrej wedding had 150 foreign guests and the Bachchan wedding has 175, the latter would be declared more prestigious.

The hosts spend a fortune on airfare, five-star accommodation and costly gifts for their foreign guests. But, then, what is a billion or two to the Godrejs or the Bachchans? All Amitabh has to do is say 'yes' to one more producer and the signing amount he receives would be adequate to 'import' as many foreign guests as he wants for Shweta's wedding.

I do not know whether these VVIP guests enjoy Indian weddings, which are normally overcrowded and noisy. Even the so-called elite invitees elbow others out of the way in their haste to get to the buffet table, once dinner is announced.

The pollution caused by the holy wedding fire might see the foreign invitees rubbing their eyes constantly as they try not to breathe in the fumes. They might also find gatecrashers staring at them and asking embarrassing questions, beginning with the traditional, "What is your good name?"

Fortunately for me, I was once associated with a foreign guest who thoroughly enjoyed an Indian wedding. This happened a couple of years ago when my cousin, Madan, who worked as a chartered accountant in Istanbul, Turkey, got married at Thiruvananthapuram. Madan's family lived in a traditional family house at Palakadu and arrangements were made for the trip to the Kerala capital.

Enter 27-year old Pablo Martin of San Sebastian, Spain. Pablo and Madan had roomed together at a youth hostel when they both were in Greece on holiday. Later, Pablo went to Istanbul under a government exchange programme to teach Spanish and found that Madan was one of his students. When Madan's wedding was finalised, he obviously invited his Spanish friend.

Pablo, by this time, had exhausted his government scholarship. He was free to accept the invitation and set out to distant Palakadu. Alerted by Madan, we met him at Bombay's Victoria Terminus station and travelled him with him to the south in the Jayanti Janata Express.

During the 40-hour train journey, Pablo told us about his life in Spain where his father managed a fish factory. His brother was engaged to be married but had to postpone the happy event because of lack of accommodation. Pablo himself was keen to work as a teacher.

The young man had never been to the East and was quite thrilled by the sights which greeted him. Both at Palakadu and Thiruvananthapuram, he was the major attraction. But our Spanish friend adjusted beautifully and was soon greeted as Pablo anna or Pablo mama by hordes of admiring youngsters.

The wedding, a traditional south Indian affair, enchanted Pablo, who looked impressive in the kurta-pyjama Madan had bought him. He did not mind the smoke, the strange smells of flowers, sandalwood paste and south Indian food and went on asking questions about all the rituals during the wedding - the mapillai azhaippu, Kasi yatrai and thali kattal.

How did he enjoy the experience? In Spanish, it was like musica, olores, colores, comida (music, fragrance, colours and food).

The last-mentioned, though, was a problem. Poor Pablo was pitchforked from bland western food to three days of non-stop kalyana saddhi (wedding feast), consisting of a variety of special dishes, sweets and fried stuff, all served on banana leaves. After two days, he gave up the unequal struggle and survived on plain rice and roasted pappads!

Pablo was quite unfazed by the noise before, during and after the wedding. During the bus trip from Palakadu to Thiruvananthapuram, we sang and organised several antakshari programmes. Nodding his head to the music, Pablo smiled, "It is just like Spanish weddings. We also sing and make a lot of noise." But the loud nadaswaram music in the confined space of the wedding hall was too much for Pablo; he sought a quiet corner, far away from the performing musicians.

Palakadu and Thiruvananthapuram were quite different from his native San Sebastian. It did not offer him bull fights or flamenco dances, but he was thrilled with the Kathakali and Bharatnatyam performances. He did not complain of culture shock and was very happy to have been present at one of the most colourful occasions in his life - the wedding of a friend.

I hope the foreign guests at the Godrej, Bachchan and Gandhi weddings enjoy themselves as much. We could not offer Pablo any five-star treatment. In fact, he would not have it. Rather than being cooped up in the privacy of a decent hotel, he preferred to be amongst a family whose chatter and laughter were strange to him because he knew they liked him. That was enough for Pablo.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier