The wedding

Tuesday Me, Moumita, and Obeshekda’s wife marched into the lab bathroom with a million bags and lined them all up against the sink mirror. My saree is gorgeous, silk and heavy. I put on some pants, and the Sari blouse (which feels like a corset) and let them drape me with the Sari. Pleats were made, parts were tucked in, safety pins were pinned. It was so confusing. Then I did my hair in a bun and Moumita gave me jewelry to put in it and earrings. I did my makeup and became an Indian. For the rest of the night, people would comment that I looked just like a Punjaby (North) Indian and couldn’t take enough pictures of me. 

 All 8 of us piled into an SUV (the trunk space was converted into seats) and made the very bumpy journey back to Shobroto’s village (stopping only once to take tea). When we arrived (after everyone finished taking more pictures of me and Michael) we were ushered right upstairs to eat. Oh it was delicious. Fresh Salad, fried chicken things, Mutton biryani, Mattar Paneer, Aloo Masala, ice cream, chutney, these balls of dough I forgot the name of, seriously, there were 10 courses. My sari got sooooo tight. After, my lab mates stood up, and thanked Shobroto for the meal and said THEY HAD TO GET GOING!! Apparently, some people had to get home at 9:30, and the ride was 2 and a half hours, so that only left 1 hour at the wedding. Completely missing the ceremony! Michael and I voiced our concern and a plan was figured out for us where we would go home with Shobroto’s roommates back to Kolkata at midnight. Back upstairs at the wedding Shobroto’s mother welcomed me back into her arms, very tightly, and I was given a seat right next to the bride’s throne. The bride was covered in gold from her nose to her feet. Every inch of her was decorated. The ceremony lasted well over 5 hours with each ritual even more precise than the last. The bride was finally taken over to the groom, carried on a large chair, her face covered in leaves. The tradition of her lifted in a chair towards the groom was created when the brides were so young and scared to see their grooms for the first time they needed to be carried there. She removed the leaf and looked into her new husband’s eyes for conceptually the first time. This however was a love marriage (not arranged), so they had courted for a little over a year. A large white sheet was placed over the couple as they ceremoniously placed flower garlands over each other’s necks. I was surprised at how irreverent the whole ceremony was. During the less glamorous parts of the ceremony people talked, ate, and drank loudly. Sometimes forgetting anything was going on at all and walking right through it! During other parts, they pressed their way getting closer to the bride than the groom. The groom was placed before a fire they built (indoors!), his hair wrapped in a turban, and he bent over the flames while holy men chanted over him. The place filled with smoke and got me quite nauseated. After the ceremony was over, the bride and groom were escorted into a guest room and fed their dinners. They talked quietly on the bed but were still completely surrounded by family. But really, when is an actual marriage reverent, quiet and solitary? I know in my family, it took 3 days to shake people from our house before we could get Fiona (my little sister) to ourselves. The marriage ceremony was a lot more real. As is much of Indian culture. Shobroto’s roommates finally showed up, but the car had broken down and was in the town car shop, so they figured they’d just keep eating until it was fixed. I had up until this point been putting off going to the bathroom in dread of undoing my Sari. But I was so desperate. Annnnd I was right. I absolutely couldn’t put the Sari back on. I stood there, in this filthy stall filled with smoke, which was only barely sectioned off from the rest of the room, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I opened the door and beckoned for the nearest woman. She started cracking up when she saw me and her and her sister wrapped me all back up. 10 of us packed into an SUV and sped through the dark dirt roads back to Kolkata. The men sat with their arms around each other singing whatever hip-hop Bengali songs came on the crackling radio. I sat in the back with the windows open. The night passed with mud huts and patti fields. God where the fuck am I? I could have been in Uganda, Sri Lanka, Sierra Leone. We stopped to chase stray dogs from their sleep in the center of the street. The smoke and the loud singing, and the rollercoaster of a ride made me very sick. The tire blew and we stopped on the EM bypass to change it. The EM bypass, always smothered by cars and noise was vacant. Not a person in sight. The men got out and took pictures in the middle of the rode making crazy poses. I was going to puke. We got home at 3:30. Wednesday I went into lab late under the circumstances. I designed a new experiment where I will collect different lake waters in Kolkata, grow laboratory vibrio strains in them and test the vibrio infectivity on an infant mouse model. After work I went to New Market to haggle myself a new money bag (my current one broke.) I stopped to take pictures at a Union Strike. I shared a coke and dinner with some Australians in the area. I’m such a big shot. With my head bobbing and hand eating skills. With my apartment in Shontosphur. “Oh you’re staying here for 3 days? I’m here for 3 months, I’m researching cholera.” I realized my internet usb connector works anywhere in India. I chatted online during the taxi ride home. “Oh Kevin, I have to go, someone without hands is knocking his head against my window asking for money.” Thursdsay A very productive work day. OR SO I THOUGHT. Then at around 6pm we got a news report that there will be a strike the next day. I was told not to even attempt to come into work. The opposing political party would actively try and oppose the strike. If I went out, I could be mistaken as an opposition. It could, I was told, get very ugly. I should go home, stock up on food, and not leave the house until 6pm when the strike was over. In the meantime I got to throw out all of my experiments from the day—the would all go bad over the time I was not in lab. Disgruntled from a loss of work I told my taxi driver to take me to the South City Mall please! One of the (if not the) biggest malls in India, the South City mall was 3 stories high and packed with stores. I feel almost guilty saying that it was probably the equivalent of only a slightly higher end mall in America. But but but I was completely thrilled and felt indulgent. I went to the food court and bought a pizza loaded with vegetables and ate myself silly. It was bad, duh, but I really didn’t care. Then I went to FAME the movie theater. I figured, this could be my cultural experience for the day—The Movies are almost as important as temples here. It was coincidentally the opening day for Harry Potter so the lines were long. Seeing Harry Potter was the theater to be in I bought one ticket. A large screen is presented to you when you buy your ticket and you actually pick your exact seat. The seats in the front are more expensive and are leather recliners. The concession stands sold gelato, corn and samosas. I got a chocolate gelato and took my seat. The seats were plush and reclined. Before the movie, everyone stood facing the screen, hand to their heart, and sang the National Anthem. No shit. Throughout the movie ballpark style concession sellers sold French fries and Pepsi to the audience. The lights came on in the middle of the movie—Intermission. I thought it was brilliant. It made you appreciate the movie experience more and concession sales I’m sure doubled. When I got home Michael was very sick, and said he didn’t think he could travel to Rajasthan Friday but said we could play it by ear—our tickets could be easily exchanged for another date up until 2 hours before our flight. Being sick on our trip would be horrible as we’re planning a whirlwind of a tour with desert stays and more nights than not on the train. Friday I slept in very late, which at first I thought was due to the complete quiet in the streets due to the strike. But when I woke up I felt like my head was going to explode, had chills, was weak, muscle aches and a fever. We rescheduled the Rajasthan trip for the following Saturday and instead I watched a Tom Hanks marathon and went back to sleep. My lichen planus has become obscenely bad. Anyone who reads this blog a dermatologist? News report. Mom, don’t read this part: (This was from the day before the strike.) India (Country threat level - 3): On 16 July 2009 violent protests erupted in Kolkata and other areas of West Bengal state after members of the Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPM) allegedly attacked senior leaders of the state branch of the Indian National Congress who were visiting a village in Bardhaman district, which is located approximately 60 mi/100 km northwest of Kolkata. Congress supporters set several buses on fire and attacked taxis throughout the state, including in the Minto Park and Gariahat areas of south Kolkata and the districts of Howrah, North 24 Barganas and Murshidabad. Protesters blocked major roads, highways and railways throughout the state. Police officers clashed with protesters in several areas; at least one protester died and several others were injured. The Congress party announced that it will hold a statewide bandh -- a type of general strike in which all business activity and transportation is shut down -- from 0600 to 1800 local time on 17 July. Travelers should expect major transportation disruptions. Travelers should monitor local developments and avoid any areas where protests are occurring The day of the strike there were more bus bombings and taxi attacks. No one was killed, but many were injured.