Exchanging Garlands

When I left off on the story of my Arya Samaj wedding to Aditya (see part four here), we had just exchanged garlands at the start of our wedding ceremony. Heavy, massive garlands that took my original concept of flower necklaces – Hawaiin leis – and kicked it up a notch or ten.
Exchanging garlands is a key component of any Hindu marriage – it signifies the couple’s acceptance of each other as spouses. In a lovely scene of one of my favorite Bollywood films, Parineeta, a character says that if a day if particularly auspicious then just the exchange of garlands makes a man & woman into husband & wife.

Of course, at the time Aditya and I exchanged garlands, we’d already been husband and wife for a year. Looking back, I’m actually quite glad that we held our Hindu marriage ceremony a year after our civil ceremony in the States. The earlier civil ceremony was necessitated by law and circumstances – if a U.S. citizen marries a non-citizen outside of the U.S., the non-citizen isn’t allowed back in the States until their immigration status is changed, which can take anywhere from three months to a year. So we had to be legally married in the U.S. and wait for the visa paper rigmarole to finish before we could head to India for another ceremony. That first wedding ceremony – as well as the year of marriage – took a bit of pressure off of our ceremony in India. If I messed up some, well, what was Aditya going to do? Go back in time and erase the year we’d already been married? Divorce me and lose his green card and cushy American life? Heaven forbid! *grin* He and his family were stuck with me.

Now, with a lead-up like that, as you might have guessed, errors, well, were made. Not that it was my fault, of course, that I almost lost balance and toppled over right onto the fire pit during the garland exchange. Aditya had to reach out a hand – with a smirk included, free of charge – to steady me. Of course, the mishap mainly occurred ’cause Aditya didn’t bend his proud neck enough for short little ol’ me to lift the heavy garland over his head. And maybe a little bit because I’m a klutz. Just a little. And, um, I didn’t want to muss my sari. (Did I mention it was a very heavy garland? Anyone would have trouble lifting it. Anyone!) I don’t think anyone – besides Aditya, of course – noticed my near-tumble, so I suppose I’m letting the cat out of the bag a little bit here…
…
…
Moving on, after the exchanging garlands Aditya and I both sat down on the mandap. This is harder than it looks when you’re wearing a big garland, a thick silk sari, and a long veil. And, um, are a klutz.

The Madhuparka Puja

After sitting down, our priest continued to chant various bits of Hindu scripture and hymns in Sanskrit, accompanied by the musicians. Everything was always translated into English for me first, although I still had to repeat my parts in Sanskrit. The first thing I spoke related to the Madhuparka ritual, where I mixed honey, ghee, and curd together in the jar pictured on right, then fed it to the groom. The concoction looked… less than appetizing, and I did not have high hopes on its taste, given the ingredient list. Aditya was all smiles while eating it, though that might have just been because I had butchered the Sanskrit phrases better than Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd could’ve. Anyways, Aditya informs me the Madhuparka is actually quite tasty, and would likely go well with meat pies.

Kanya Daan

Next, Aditya and I drank some holy water from the Ganges River, cupping our hands to allow the priest to pour it in. Then it was time for my maternal uncle to officially “give” the bride away. Like in Western weddings, this is traditionally done by the bride’s father, but my dad wasn’t able to make the trip to India. Instead, my Uncle Mark stepped up to perform the kanya daan by placing my hand in Aditya’s. Note how the boyo slouches – poor posture ’til his dying day, I’m sure.

I suppose this would be an amazing place to pause, and go on a rant about how patriarchal reins are laid on women throughout the world and how I’m not some chattel to be given away willy-nilly, but, really? In the particular social strata and culture I’m lucky enough to live in those sort of complaints are as needed as the well-intentioned-but-nonetheless-patronizing G-20′s Wives Club or those “top 100 women entrepreneurs” or “top 20 women bloggers” lists. Which is to say it’s not at all needed.
…
…
Moving on from that, well, rant, there was a series of prayers which required us to get back to our feet. Really, I think the priest had just noticed how clumsy I am, and was hoping to see me topple. He seemed like the type who would appreciate that sort of joke.

While we stood, the younger preist began to get the fire started. Now, the fire is perhaps the Best Thing Ever about Hindu weddings. Sure, other faiths have that unity candle thing going on,  but who else has a proper blazing fire that you get to toss stuff into?

Yes, yes, I am a pyromaniac.

I suppose I should put in a disclaimer that, while my tone may indicate otherwise, I took Aditya’s and mine wedding ceremony quite seriously, and I fully respect the various Hindu pujas we performed. The Vedic tradition of using Agni, the sacred fire at the center of many rituals is one of the most moving things I find about the faith – I truly love the symbolism and simplicity inherent in it. However, I also firmly believe that seriousness, respect, and laughter can all coexist.

So it was in all seriousness, but with quite a few smiles, that we got the fire going *hem hem* for the next part of our wedding.

The priest helped some, of course.

And, with that,  I’ll leave the real pyro stuff for the next post. (See! See how Adiya slouches! It’s borderline scandalous! )

As always, you can check out my flickr site for more wedding pictures.