The women in my family walked me to the head table and sat me down next to my husband. I remember looking through my veil to the left where my side of family and guests were seated in the hall. The tables closest to the front were reserved for our extended family and my close friends. They were looking at me adoringly and whispering amongst themselves. I was more concerned that they did not have any gastric issues eating the spicy food for dinner.
My father's friend was MC for the evening and of course my father-in-law had requested his own MC to do the introductions on their side. I dreaded that there would be two head tables but that idea was scrapped just in time. My husband's school friend agreed to bring his equipment to play background music and set up in the corner of the hall.
The evening started with the bagpipers playing two songs. The entire congregration was flabbergasted. The Pakistani community watched and listened, not sure how to react as this was a novelty. Everyone applauded politely and the band departed. The speeches began with three of my closest childhood friends sharing embaressing moments and fond memories. What struck me most was that each them bawled their eyes out at the end of their speech as they stepped off the stage. They were really going to miss me. With all of us barely at the age of 19 and 20, I was being taken away too soon and at such a young age. We all had so many plans for the future--all to be thwarted by my marriage.
Dinner had begun and I begged my sister to go over to my friends from work and university to help them select their food from the buffet. My aunt brought food over for me and my husband but I only picked at my food. One of my aunt's closest friends came over and started teasing me in front of him.
"You are not eating those kabobs. Don't you want kabob tonite?" she winked at me and then nudged my aunt, who joined in the lewd humour.
I was mortified. My husband laughed it off but he became uncomfortable just like me. And to make matters worse, these two women continued their banter and antics for a good ten minutes while I pretended to be distracted by people who came to the head table to congratulate us. It was all captured on my wedding video but thank God the audio was dubbed over with Indian music!
When they left, I leaned over to him and apologized profusely. He was more accustomed to my father's side of the family who were a lot more anal and conservative in their demeanor--this was another wild side of the family I wasn't sure he would approve of. But he laughed it off and thought they were both fun. And then in the most serious manner, turned to me and asked if I was really going to eat the kabob. I laughed out loud and covered my mouth when I saw my father's sister shot me a stern look.
Yes, I was still a kid in their eyes and forever making mistakes that needed immediate correction.
Traditionally, towards the end of the reception, the photographer would take pictures and the families would get ready to leave. Of course, my wedding would defy all tradition and standards that everyone expected. My husband's friend, who was responsible for the music, announced that everyone should take to the dance floor and "Get down and boogie!" I looked over at my stunned father and back at my husband who shrugged his shoulders. His friend was not Muslim and proceeded to call out to the other Indian friends on my husband's side to come and party on the dance floor. All of a sudden, there was a light show and loud music. No Pakistani wedding in the early 90s had any form of dancing. Except mine.
Well this did not bode well with the religious elders in my community. They all stood up, came over to the head table, and bid us farewell with long faces. My father was talking to my father-in-law who shook his head and held up his hands. There was no way either of them could stop the 50 odd people on the dance floor from shaking their booties. I was too busy saying goodbye to a multitude of people who after making sure they had dinner and dessert, were ready to depart.
To my utter surprise, all of my conservative Pakistani friends, family friends and majority of my husband's side, got up and joined all the crazy Indian dancers and my work and university crowd. I smiled and waved at them politely when they asked us to get up. Typically, the groom and bride do NOT get up to dance. My aunt made sure that I did not get up. Instead she grabbed the photographer to take our pictures in the corner of the hall.
As the crowd dispersed and only family and close family friends remained around 12am, we took the last of many family pictures. When I did not see my father, my friend pointed him out to me at the far end of the hall.
He was hunched over, his shoulders moving up and down, with his hand over his eyes. There were three men consoling him. And then I realized that he was crying.
I averted my eyes and tried to smile in the camera.
Too bad. So sad. And in that moment, I turned and lost it too.
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