My Year without Clothes : 25. Three funerals and a wedding so far

I was sitting on the rooftop, dressed in insideout tee shirt and track pants, drying my hair this morning when Sunjit rushed upstairs, calling me. "Miss Susan Miss Susan, there is a wedding, you can come, quick!" From one of the rooms, a flotilla of silk, lace, brocade, sequins, and organza in peacock colours wafted. The bridal party were staying in the hotel. Awash with perfume, they drifted like colourful birds downstairs, carrying trays of food wrapped in pink and red cellophane; they were leaving for the reception near the airport. I had four minutes to get dressed if I want to go with them.

I almost stabbed out my eye, putting on my mascara while trying to squeeze my feet into my white churidar, thankful I still had the residue of a red manicure. My hair was still wettish. I grabbed my camera. I went without lipstick.

Bridal car

The bridal car was parked in the driveway. The swathes of silk were squished in. I rode in the van with the rest of the bridal party. The groom was a Nepali man, living in Wisconsin, US, working as a nurse. His bride was an Indian woman, a Christian, living in Wisconsin, working as a nurse. Both their families lived in the US and a large posse of them had come all this way for the wedding. They were having the Nepali traditional wedding today, and a Christian wedding later. This is as much as I could glean.

We drove through Kathmandu's ghastly traffic; glittering peacocks trapped in hot cars, wedged between mountains of metal, choking dust, deafened by diesel. The van driver looked like a guerilla with his shaved head, wrap around mirrored sunglasses, black tee shirt, camouflage trousers and hiking boots. The army was out in force, rifles cocked. At intervals, riot trucks blocked the roads. Traffic police with tight butts and fat stomachs and white gloves and dust masks laced through the traffic, pushing vehicles out the way. A cow ate plastic. A man noisily shredded sugar cane.

We arrived at the reception centre: a dark hall where chairs were laid out in rows, like a bus station. In the middle, a canopy had been set up, under which was a pile of wood, ready for a fire, herbs, leaves, petals, incense. Two plastic chairs were placed in the centre. The groom sat on one chair, wearing a collar of grasses and gold tinsel and a fabric hat. An older man - his grandfather - was the officiator. He washed the feet of his grandson, and kissed them. A red cloth was held in front of his face while a celebrant held an old book and sang prayers. The grandfather circled the groom three times, clockwise. The fire was lit. The bride, who had been having a cup of tea in the back room, surrounded by a fluttering bevy of female relatives, was brought in, teary and trembling. The photographers attacked with their antiquated flash guns that removed all trace of beauty or sentiment from photos, blinding everyone present and tripping up children on the short electrical cords.

The bride and groom placed their feet on crossed planks on a copper bowl. Every person present then had to wash the hands and feet of the bride and groom, place flowers and paste on their foreheads, give them each a packet of money which was placed into handbags by the sisters of the couple, and stoop low to kiss their feet. Everyone, from the oldest employee to the family matriarch, had to do the same.

The bride's hands were hennaed, and her nails painted with gold glitter. Bride and groom gave each other gold jewellery. When the groom gave the bride the traditional green and red seed bead necklaces with a large gold bead, the ceremony was considered complete. Everyone clapped. Then the bride was given her own grass laurel to wear. There was no alcohol, and food was served from the buffet from the moment guests arrived. The ceremony of feet and hand washing went on for two hours, and so did the eating. Guests would have a few helpings of dahl, rice, paneer, aloo, mutton curry, chicken tikka, a bowl of rice, sitting on plastic chairs in the long rows, pick their teeth and noses, then go back to watching the washing and kissing.

Some kids took charge of me, insisting I eat - I had already, because I'd missed breakfast, but they sat down with me and were very upset and insulted that I didn't eat the chicken and mutton (would anyone here DARE! seeing it being sold without refrigeration and with fur and teeth and claws and bones still attached?)

Drinks table

The wedding cake was a large square cream and sponge cake, the drinks table a filtered water pump, and yellow cordial. Empty plates and glasses were put on the floor, from where two girls would collect them in buckets and take them out the back to be washed. Guests stood around in a tight circle while the ceremony was going on, chatting and laughing and kissing each other's children. The bridal couple were so serious: I asked why they didn't laugh or smile: but it's such a serious occasion, was the answer.

Washing the feet

A young guest's clothing

I couldn't get the photos I would have liked: it wasn't my territory! And apart from the banks of lights from the sports stadium across the road that burst on every five seconds, the room was semi dark. I didn't stay till the end ...eventually the couple would have gone and sat on two throne chairs, officiating over the eating. By the time I left, the floor where the kissing and washing had been going on was awash with powder and petals, and the floor of the eating space awash with bits of bone, rice, vegetables and potato.

I sneaked out quietly, and caught a taxi back to the hotel.