It's wedding season here.
This means two things: you go to sleep each night to the sound of drums, and you wake up each morning to the sound of drums. I'm basically living a non-stop homecoming football game here.
So this morning I was sitting on my couch peacefully listening to my worship music, when once again, the drums call outside my window. I made an executive decision at this point to gain cultural insight by observing. I walk out in the street in my jeans and flipflops...and bed hair...but none the less, with a big fat smile on my face.
Imagine this, if you will: Horses decked out to the max with gold bridles and braided tails. Female family members with the most elaborate saris, waving their henna-decorated hands in the air and stopping right outside our gate to dance like they were performing in a Bollywood film. And of course there was the band, each member carrying their instrument with pride, and playing as if it was their last day on earth. It was AMAZING! These people know how to marry in style.
So everyone is coming out of their homes to watch the scene take place, and I was perfectly content being one of these innocent bystanders, when one of the male members of the party grabs my hand and pulls me out into the parade. Before I know it, I'm surrounded by 10 beautiful women encouraging me to join them in Indian dance. I'm sure I had a look on my face, similar to the one I had upon my first experience in Indian traffic, but I recovered smoothly enough (thanks to those 4th grade dance lessons). Did I mention that I had an Indian man shoving a video camera in my face? That poor bride. She'll forever have my awkward dancing on her wedding footage.
But I'm told that it's an auspicious sign for foreigners to appear at a wedding ceremonies here. Go figure. ME, looking my very worst, is a blessing to others. Man, I love this place!
