Unexpectedly, it was a four bindi night. I’ve known that there might be a ceremony around the first wedding invitation that involved both of Riddhi’s grandmothers, since neither is in health to travel, but what took place I couldn’t really have imagined.

While others spent the day preparing a feast (with water only from 7-10 AM and 6-10 PM), Riddhi and I ran some errands. The streets of the city, hot, crowded with people going every which way, school children (there are so many that young children go to school in the morning and the older ones in the afternoon) swarming the candy vendor, the tailor on his treadle sewing machine putting the finishing touches on Adam’s dopi (Nehru hat) for the wedding. Coriander from one stall, betel nuts from another. The Gandhi produce market, milk from a cart on the road. Textile shops seems to make me forget about heat and queasy stomach—chicken work.

Imagine. We walked into Palu’s livingroom, filled with people I’d met and several I had not, chatting away in their beautiful saris—and Riddhi, wow. Red and gold and make-up and hair and jewelry—she looked amazing. She moved to a low chair in the middle of the room and I was told to kneel next to Veena, who also looked amazing, elegant in torquoise and pink. The maharaaj was to my right, with a low table, green cloth, newspaper. Veena showed me the document he was going to fill out with all the auspicious dates and information for the wedding. He made sure that I had a place to sit and that I was given something to drink. (What follows is a jumble, but it happened something like this.)

The maharaaj gave Veena and me each a bindi, by dipping his finger into the red ink and marking our foreheads. Then he pressed rice into the wet ink. He tied a string around each our wrists as well as Riddhi’s, it had been blessed and I was told it was holy string. Veena gave me a bindi (this is where I’m confused in remembering). And I think she fed me jaggery and coriander seeds.

Then Palu called me away. It didn’t seem appropriate to leave, but no one said anything else, so I went. She had arranged for Muni to dress me in one of her saris, so that’s what happened. First was the choli blouse, which didn’t fit by at least 6 inches. This isn’t going to work, can’t I just wear my shirt. “I’ll make it work. I’m a beautician.” So she pulled and squeezed for several minutes—she was determined. “This isn’t going to work.” And then she got out the pins. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover everything up.” I was quite doubtful but powerless, so she used a multitude of pins to clip the top together, then the slip and then the sari. It was beautiful grey and burgundy with gold weaving for the design work on the borders and paloo. So all these lovely pleats were draped, and yes, pinned and tucked. Then the jewelry, which was perfect for the colors. A necklace and then earrings, “That’s not the hole,” I protested. “It will work!” And painfully, it did. Then the bracelets. They managed to push the one onto my left hand, but even with two people squeezing my hand, they had to give up on the right, so I had to wear both on my left hand. I was decked. And then a bindi sticker . . .

So I swished back to my place in the livingroom where things were moving forward. Astrology book was consulted. The official invitation was filled out, as well as another calligraphied one. One was folded and Veena put auspicious items into it which included, tumeric, betel nut, coriander seeds and ??? It was folded again and tied with the string. He drew the swastika looking design on the paper, and Veena added some marks, and then rice. This was repeated with the other document and then I put the auspicious items in and the steps were similar. The two documents were placed in a bowl of flowers.

Then the blessings.

This may be when Veena gave me the bindi rather than above—I’m not sure.

Veena made a bindi on Riddhi’s forehead and fed her the jaggery and coriander and tossed rice over her and gave her blessings, then I did the same. At one point I remember that everyone in the room was giving me instructions and I asked that just one person tell me what to do! Oh, and part of the blessing was to place folded fingers on Riddhi’s temples and then crack them on your own temples.

Or maybe this is when the Veena bindi happened.

In turn beginning with the grandmothers, everyone fed and blessed Riddhi

We rehearsed what will happen on March 28 when Veena will deliver the package of invitations to Roger and me, wherever we are. So she did the bindi and handed me the package and all that. Then Roger and I will deliver this to the wedding where it will be used in the ceremony. (I think Veena hopes we will be in DC with the new baby!)

We enjoyed a feast of so many foods prepared with so much attention and without water, sitting on the mat on the floor, eating with our fingers (which has become quite comfortable for me—in fact utensils seem a bit awkward), and talking (mostly listening in my case). Everyone was very happy and friendly and kind and welcoming. People ask how I like India. Hard question to answer since I really don’t know India—I’ve just had a taste of a few places, many wonderful people, many different foods and experiences. I’m not sure what answer would most please them.

Finally it was just women and the evening ended with us sitting around in our saris chatting away.