Hindu Wedding #1

I just saw an exboyfriend get married— arguably a cause for pensiveness and psychogenic exhaustion, even in a friendly drama-free relationship, such as Rajeev and I have.

I do know I'm not jealous. No way could I imagine being up there, with hennaed hands and dangling ornaments. Reema carried it off beautifully, and was gracious and lovely even after the two-hour ceremony. Rajeev has found a good person with whom to share his life.

While the groom, bride, her family members, and the priest were performing various rites and incantations under a canopy, a refreshing informality prevailed among the guests. Chai and coffee were served midway through; it seemed quite civilized to sip tea and chat while watching the ceremony unfold.

The new couple got a chance to snack too: multiple symbolic bits of food were consumed, and puffed rice was offered to a small brazier-bound fire. In what other tradition does a celebrant show up to perform a wedding toting a plastic sack of groceries and box of fragrant firewood?

The vows themselves were lengthy and quite specific. Forty years ago in a Catholic ceremony, my mother promised to "love, honor and obey" my father. Reema promised that, and Rajeev promised more. The other guests were happy to translate for me as they chuckled at the various vows. One man told me that they were designed to protect the bride's human rights in an historically very challenging situation. Among the more thought-pledges: Rajeev is not to obstruct Reema's spiritual life by preventing her from going on pilgrimage or retreat; he promised to consult her before purchasing any big-ticket items; he must not get angry if she beat a path back to her mother's house without warning.

Rajeev looked pretty jovial during all this, and in no danger of doing a one-eighty back to bachelorhood. It was good to see him looking so satisfied.

I will always be fond of Rajeev, because we've been good friends for thirteen years, and because we were lovers for three of those years. When you're physically involved with someone, you end up bonded in ways that no one understands, and I think the exhaustion I feel has something to do with that.

The ceremony was quite powerful: deities were invoked, strings were tied around wrists, fires were circumnambulated, brows were annointed, and so forth. In the midst of this, I felt as if my past with Rajeev was a contaminant.

My sense of things, and the asymmetry of the vows, all suggest that a double standard is at work, so that the groom's "history" is not a big deal (I wouldn't post this if I thought it was). And the vows Rajeev took are promises for the future, and what happened between us is years in the past. Even so, I found myself fervently hoping that whatever ritual purification had been performed had "worked", so that Rajeev could go forward wholeheartedly and cleanly.

It is my sincere hope that they love and trust one another, and have a deeply happy life together. With that intention, I set off on the train to visit my sister in Philadelphia, and let the reception happen without me.
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Initially, I took this post down because it seemed sensitive; I didn’t want to embarrass Rajeev or hamper a happy start to his marriage. But does anyone in the world imagine that he hasn’t had girlfriends? Of course not. My discomfort during the ceremony came from the sense that the ceremony was sanctifying a fresh start—and ardently hoping that it would be unsullied by imprints of other women. My decision to repost anyway comes from the impression that those in a position to know are not in any way shocked that the groom has had girlfriends. (This is helped by the fact that Rajeev concealed my status from his parents.)

Whether this might be true for the bride is another matter: I see that, in this marriage and others, young women come from India to marry men who are 10-15 years their senior. If Reema’s past mirrored Rajeev’s would it be an issue, something to keep to oneself?