Wedding Crashers

Our first impression of Indian people was that they were rather gruff, a little pushy, and seemed to have, as a default facial expression, a slightly suspicious, grumpy look. We’re not sure why. Perhaps it has to do with the numbers of people and the struggle for survival. Perhaps we were too used to the smiles and gentle approach of the Thais and Laotians.

However, on one of our first days in Ooty, we had an experience that added a whole new dimension to our first impressions. We learned that Indians are also gracious and generous hosts, especially when celebrating joyous events, such as weddings!

Bruce and I had been on one of our exploratory outings, wandering around a new part of the neighborhood. We had chatted with a taxi cab driver and a film producer and sundry other folks that we met in our meanderings, when we saw a hotel. Thinking that it might serve as a possible venue for an evening beer, we poked around inside and happened upon a gathering. Just as we were backing away, not wanting to intrude, a forceful man told us, “It’s a marriage, ma’am. Come. Come. Do you want to take pictures?” I don’t wait for that question to be asked a second time and followed him into a large room where a line of professional photographers faced the wedding couple on a stage. I could feel Bruce’s hesitation as he came along, too.

I stood beside the fancy cameras and clicked away with my little digital, very excited to be invited to capture a couple of shots of this special event. Before I knew it, I had been ushered onto the stage for photos of me with the bridal couple. They were an incredibly handsome duo, she looking like an Indian princess and he, tall and debonair. I congratulated them on their marriage, and they responded with shy grace and warmth, just as if I were meant to be there!

The bridal couple had their photos taken with lots of groups of guests, including us!

The beautiful bridal couple.

Bruce and I were then whisked into the adjoining room by Mr. Host, where a buffet line of food was being served. He gave us plates, explained what each dish was, and urged us to participate in the wedding feast. We hadn’t had lunch, and Mr. Host was so very eager for us to accept their hospitality. I couldn’t refuse, despite Bruce’s reservations regarding food safety. So, we loaded up our plates and dug in. It was delicious. (We took one of Barb’s charcoal pills when we got home and were just fine!)

There were not enough chairs lining the wall for all of the guests who kept trickling in, but Mr. Host made sure that we had chairs. Many other people stood while they ate. As is customary in South India, no utensils were used for dining. When we had finished eating, we took our dishes to the tub, washed our messy hands in the communal sink, and made motions to leave so that others could use our chairs. But Mr. Host had folks for us to meet and more photos to be taken, this time including Bruce. No one seemed at all surprised that we strangers were there. In fact, everyone in the families of the bridal couple thanked us for coming. Apparently it’s the custom to welcome strangers to bridal festivities. Wow! Can you imagine that happening in America, where the guest count is scrupulously kept and anyone without an invitation is shunned?? It was astonishing to us and warmed our cockles for a long time!