This is neither a fiction nor a monotonous time killer. This is for people who look beyond the language limits and try to understand the purpose of its creation. Much of it is true and some of it is added and curtailed to protect people’s identity and beliefs. I had been thinking of writing this, the night I came after the marriage reception. Those moments were filled with glamour and joy that I could have penned my experience much better. As days pass by the intensity and charm of its occurrence started fading. Still it’s better late than never. I regret that I couldn’t bring home the whole enthusiasm, which I carried that day. Yet I truly believe that the gathering was splendid and worth describing.
My friend’s marriage to an American blond was fixed one month after his return from Canada. It took me by surprise even though there were rumours in the air that he wanted to uplift his life style to an American way. Actually I know the reality and it’s much deeper than the thin superfluous layer of public talk. We had been friends for not long, but I knew him from 15 days after I landed one September Saturday in the busy JFK airport , New York. He was a healthy well-built man in his early thirty, but looked much younger than his age and shared the spirit of late twenties. I am the first boy for my father, and never know how it feels to have an elder brother. I started enjoying this privilege later on when he and I became good friends. In our earlier days of friendship I clinked to him as he clanged to me to pass few native news and words. I understood the meaning of this sentence - Unreal friendship may turn real - a couple of months after we met.
After we shifted to a new house, things were moving as usual. My friend was prone to American culture long enough to get inspired by it. He spends his weekends partying in bars and pubs. He started dating and soon fell in love with a white American girl. They met in the bar went out a couple of days and hited off .The place I stayed with him was far from my college. When summer came I moved back to the old house to reduce my commute. At times we meet to speak few words in our own native language. We surprise the entire side walkers of what these people are talking about. One Friday he talked about his visit to Canada for his visa renewal and he hinted that marriage was in his card next. At this point also I never believed that he would marry an American blond. He returned from Canada and invited me for a dinner. I thought it was a celebration for his success of getting visa renewed. I didn’t know there was much more to it, unless he broke the news of his marriage.
All this revelation took place in a McDonalds restaurant at Times-Squire. We picked two chairs on the second floor of the restaurant, near the window viewing the busy 5th Avenue and Broadway intersection. It was half past seven. All Time-Squire was lit up with magnificent lighting – I could see the Coke and Samsung advertisement in bright color projected on a building. Down the street there was a steady flow of people and traffic in either direction. Great time to spend for a Whopper and a Coke, enjoying the beauty of mans creation, gazing at the tall gray buildings and the dark sky patched between them. He looked out through the window for a long time, whereas I began to start my fresh share of french-fries. When talked about the marriage his face said that his thoughts where disturbed. I was so embarrassed by his decision but only kept mum. Who am I to judge – who knows what is best for him? We sat there for a while eating and saying nothing. Asked him again to confirm if he was serious about the relationship and the answer was yes. I remember complimenting him for his success or failure, which ever the future brings. After a while he explained that the marriage was three months away and he needs me to be his best man for the wedding.
I didn’t quite understand what a best man role was. He continued explaining all about the marriage. Actually I felt half honored and surprised to know that I was the only person to represent his family and friends. The other half, my brain was still in dilemma. May be my uncle will come for the marriage and two of my Indian co-workers, they are the only I invited, he added. After hearing all these it took some time for me to recover from the black out. didn’t know what to say to him as I sat and listened. On my way back home, while in the train and as I walked towards my house through the Blvd my thoughts pondered over his decision. I wanted to appreciate his courage for committing such a marriage. Didn’t know what was common between them. But certainly that there where a lot uncommon, from culture, religion, to all I could find there was no match. I wondered how his family would react. They where looking for a girl even in the same cast - not even the same religion. How ironic? Not sure if there is some thing by name love, but what this proved was these four letters meant a lot to many people. It felt that I would be the first victim to be interrogated by both the families if some thing goes wrong. A sure target because I was only connection they could establish between east and west. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing by supporting the marriage. Any way he wanted me to be his best man and I couldn’t refuse it. From my experience in life what I infer about right and wrong is that there is neither any absolute right nor any absolute wrong in this world, it solely depend on the persons understanding of the world and how he interpret it in different circumstances.
The only reason they postponed the marriage three months was because it takes three months for a bride’s dress to be stitched. Even though the church marriage was after three months, they got married in court next week and moved in together to a separate apartment. It was the first Christian wedding that I was going to attend. To add, I was chosen to be the best man. It felt as if people will be judging me for each of my behavior. Even with all the fear, I was optimistic about the marriage. It is the blending of two cultures that were at extreme. A mixture of west and the east, too much odds and still hoping for a harmonious life. I always believed in extremities. One line I usually quote to myself when I am stuck with misery is - Those who risk going too far can probably find how far one can go. I blessed them a long cherished marriage by sending sandalwood carving of a lady dancer and a wedding card with it.
A month before the marriage he took me to meet his newly wedded wife. After a brief introduction we three drew to a mall. A mall here usually refers to a big shopping complex. We had pizza and cappuccino as refreshment before visiting the tailoring shop to take measurement for my tuxedo. A tuxedo is the dresses the groom's man wear on the wedding day. They had also organized a party to introduce me to some of her friends. Every one treated me special and I enjoyed each bit of the time I spend there. I had to leave the table before we could finish the dinner because it was getting late for my last train back to NY. They drew me to the station, which was a 30 minutes ride from the restaurant. I once again gazed in wonder how and where people find their life partners. As a courteous gustier I apologized for not finishing the meal with her friends .I tried to be uptight and formal knowing that I represent a whole new group of people.
One day my friend rang me up and told that the maid of honor wants her boyfriend to be the best man. The maid of honor to the bride is just like best man is to the groom. This made me fall back to the groom’s men position. In this marriage there was one best man and three groom's men for the groom and one maid of honor and three bride's maid for the bride. The church was fixed – The Fairmont Presbyterian Church at old Turnpike Road. He also hinted that there would be a dance floor at the reception for the bridal party. It was a sweet way of putting that I have to dance in the party. For me it was rather easy to jump from the Empire State building than to dance with my poor movements. To make my condition worse I had to dance with a partner. Her name was sue. Another duty assigned to me on the wedding day was to take the woman flock arriving at the church to their seat. I had to walk them down the aisle holding their arm all the way to their comfortable seat.
The priest of the church fixed a day one week before the marriage for a rehearsal. We were told where to stand, what to say, how to walk in and out of church. There was a party launched by the bride’s parents on that day after the marriage rehearsal. The dinner was served and we all picked dishes of our own choice. First came the appetizer with potato skins, french-fries masarola sticks and more which I don’t remember the names. Next the salad with honey mustard combination. Then I ordered shrimp with rice. Finally for dessert I choose strawberry ice cream. The ice cream was pink in color, the same color of my Park Avenue shirt I wore on that day. The meal was real good. NY is unpredictable for its violence, so I stayed with my friend and his newly wed but unwed wife. We talked a lot that day about nothing as we watched a movie in their new big screen 100 channel Sony cable TV. By the time I woke up, brushed my teeth and came out of the shower, breakfast was ready. It was Banana pancake with honey and syrup. After breakfast we rushed to the train station and I boarded back to NY. One thing I like about these people is that they are very well organized in what they do. They have expertise in all fields but each single service comes with a price tag. Beside you can find any thing here, from coconut to strawberry. If you cannot find some thing in NY then probably it’s because it is not discovered yet.
There is an old saying in NY that three things cannot be trusted here - woman, wealth and weather. The only thing that ditched me till now was the weather. In NY the weather is so unpredictable that you can see rain, sun and snow in the same day. On my way back from college two days before my friend’s marriage I was soaked and washed by the windy rain that came from no where. The day before the marriage I was having terrible head ache high temperature and running nose. It was not my health, but the commitment that concerned me more. What kind of a man would I be if I screwed up my only friend’s wedding day? That thought pumped me out of bed at four-o clock early morning. Laid for another hour and started my preparation for the day. I was told to meet my friend’s uncle at 9.30 in hotel Pennsylvania, 34th street, Midtown, Manhattan just opposite to Madison Squire garden. I dressed my self-fast, put some cologne and cream and made look good even though my inner self said that I needed more rest. Thank god as the day progressed I felt better and better. Reached the hotel in time and his uncle was waiting for me all dressed up? My friend joined us at 10.00 to ride us to his house. It will seem obviously baffling why the groom had come to pick us. Nothing special about it, the marriage was at 3 PM and he found time to give us a ride. This was just the beginning of the funny part in this marriage.
We the grooms team where supposed to be in church by 2: 15 PM. The best men joined us around 12 noon. At 1 o’ clock we started dressing. It is supposed to be dressing the groom but finally it turned out to be grooming dressing every body else with the extra outfit that we had to put on. After driving half a mile from the apartment best man started searching for his cell phone. I felt it as a bad omen when we drove back to find it. He stepped out of the car and when walked towards the apartment, we saw the phone lying in his seat. When we started riding again I asked the best man how he was figuring out the road signboards, which seemed so confusing to me. He told it is very simple and I felt it confusing because I don’t drive. I said ok - and we listened to some rap music that was playing in his car stereo. After a while I felt as if we where driving back the way we went. When asked about that he felt miserable to admit we lost our way.
Finally we reached the church in time. The other grooms men and the brides family were waiting in the church. Luckily no guest had arrived. The groom is not supposed to see the bride before the marriage so he stood in a separate room with his best man. I walked with all the ladies to their seats as they arrived. The official marriage function began with a piano music after the bride’s group landed in their limousine. The grooms man walked to the podium and stood at the places that where assigned to us. Now, two girls came with flowers, followed by the bride’s maids, the lady of honor and finally the bride accompanied by her father. I don’t remember the whole Christian marriage ritual that followed the procession. One thing I remember was that marriage again turned out funny as half of the bride’s maid started laughing at the rumbling voice in which the priest sang. I think this annoyed the priest and he deliberately forgot to say to my friend to kiss the bride. He missed the chance to kiss his bride and lost the most precious moment of their marriage. Another funny thing happened was that his uncle forgot what so say when asked if he would support this couple in holy matrimony. He fumbled and trembled for the word that the priest had taught him to say. He said all but not the four words that the priest told him to say.
Eventually the marriage finished and as pairs we walked out of the church. First the bride and groom, second best man and the lady of honor. Next was sue and me, then came the other groom’s men and bride’s maids followed by the two girls. After the marriage, there was a session for congratulating the couple. All the bride’s maids, the groom’s men and the couple stood in a line outside. As the participants left the church they gave shake hands. Some ladies even gave packs to the members of the wedding party. I believe you know a pack is a lovely name for cheek-to-cheek kiss. After a long chain of shake hands and packs I felt a little warmer even though I was standing in the chill weather outside. Then we all walked into the limousine to drop us at the reception hall. One of the limousines was white which carried the couple, the two girls, the best man and lady of honor. The other was black in which the rest of the grooms’ men and bride’s maids made their way to the reception. We had every thing from glasses, ice cubes Champaign and music in the limousine. Every one pours a glass of Champaign and toasted a happy marriage. When they all pour the next glass and asked permission to fill up mine I politely denied the offer. I never believed not drinking alcohol as a great sacrifice, but some thing in me always told that it is not good for me. Usually I stick to be comfortable with what I am and at certain times I prefer to be flexible. Show others what you made of and if they appreciate it, you will be comfortable among them.
Forty-five minutes of limousine drive thorough old country side gave me a feel of nature which I missed living in the concrete jungle of New York. We the wedding group had a separate room to sit and eat in the reception where as others shared a big hall. The waitress kept on dumping food and we never stopped eating. After the initial course of meal the DJ came and told that we have to get ready for the introduction ceremony. A DJ is disk jockey, the one who plays music and does certain announcement in parties. We were all paired with our partners and each one was invited to the dance floor. After the introduction the DJ told the bride and groom to dance first and next the members of the wedding party. I have seen enough English movies in my life to figure out how to dance for 2 minutes. Finally there it happened I just dance like all others. As the slow dance continued I whispered to my partner in her ears how I was doing. She said “you doing fine” . I felt a great accomplishment. The first lady to ever dance with and she complimented me for what I am. That is the reason why I still remember her name. Once I went step out as I could realize, she corrected her steps and matched it with mine. After the dance I thanked her for the dance.
People who needed drinks had drinks, food had food, and dance had dance, all of them enjoyed. Another interesting culture I noticed here was that the couple had to kiss each other whenever some one clings on their glass with a fork. We made them kiss enough to forget the feeling that they missed the wedding kiss. I sat on the podium where they had arranged separate table for the wedding party and watched as things happened. It always fascinated me to view events as an outsider and realize – what a wonderful world we live in. My friend’s uncle was an extremely good dancer. He danced with a small girl, which was so remarkable that he received separate applause from viewers. This relay helped to prove that Indians do know to dance in parties even though I didn’t. Some women approached me to dance with them. I said thanx and kept to myself. I didn’t want to spoil the charm of my first dance by dancing with every one. I kept it special and enough for the day.
The party started loosening up right after the wedding cake was cut and distributed. I cracked Indian jokes to sue and another brides maid who where sitting besides. They also fired back with there own kind of jokes. So went the party well and it was time for all of us to leave. As I said good-bye to each of them one lady rushed to me and asked why I turned down her dance offer, which she felt offensive. I asked her smiling how I could make it up. She broke into laughter and crushed me with a huge hug. I understood it doesn’t hurt when any woman hugs even if that is their intention. Sue also gave me a good pack when I waved good bye. Before leaving I changed the dress and gave the tuxedo suit back to my friend for him to return.
It all happened as in the Cinderella story, with one difference that I was the male version of Cinderella. I learned a thing very important in life that day - we don’t know if we would get a second chance in life, so make the best out of the first one you get, exploit the opportunity not the people. This whole story has no morel unless you find one by yourself. People always overlook their own fault or will find justification for their deeds. I have my own philosophy about life and how I should live. But at times I run short of enough intellect to accommodate this big world. That is the reason I want to ask a question to those who understood why I spend time writing this. The question is simple - How long can an Indian be an Indian in America? If you have send your son or daughter here, How long do you expect them to be the same ones whom you send in this fast moving pleasure driven material world? Do email me with your opinion. Your time and words are greatly appreciated and is truly valuable for me and for others here who also face the same identity crisis. Thanx for going through this work.
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