Wedding

The courtyard (ie rocky, muddy, wasteland) next to our house is currently being developed for a ‘party palace’ to be hired our for weddings and other celebrations. Things seemed to be moving along pretty slowly, but one day last week the area was a hive of activity. Holes were dug, the bare breeze block walls were faced with cement and we gathered a wedding was going to take place the next day. The following afternoon the guests arrived rapidly trampling a green ceremonial carpet into the mud. The ladies were beautifully dress in red, pink and orange saris threaded with gold, and the men mostly wore European style suits with a Nepali hat. We looked down from our rooftop as they paraded past; first the women, carrying platters of luridly coloured food and then the men, heralded by a traditional Nepali band. The musicians took their place under the tarpaulin: two played an oboe-like instrument, two sported large horns which curved back behind their heads, while others played drums and cymbals. To the untrained ear, each tune sound quite identical to the previous. The oboes played the melody, generally on the same scale, interrupted occasional by blasts from the horns, all underpinned by some complex percussion. Alastair’s hoping to learn more about Nepali music from the school music teacher while he’s here.

 

The bride and groom mostly stayed inside performing the elaborate ceremonies of a Nepali wedding while outside, one by one, men got up to dance. Classical Nepali dancing must make you dizzy. It involves rapid gyrations punctuated by fluid and wave-like movements of the hands and wrists. Even the old men manage some elegant moves. Eventually the bride emerges, looking demurely at the ground. Our neighbor says this may be shyness, or an attempt to conceal her emotions if it is an arranged marriage she is not entirely sure about. Love matches are increasingly common in Nepal, but are still not the rule. Weddings here generally go on for two days, so tomorrow it’s the brides turn to host the party.