Having missed our train connection to Mount Abu (when our driver decided our private bus was an opportunity to slow down to pick up strays in standing room for a few rupees baksheesh), we ended up going directly to our next planned leg where our pals G&Z were already charming their way into a local wedding. We were all hailed as glamourous guests of honour, where our only requirement was to 'look British', and dance in the streets with the closest guests and family before the gaze of the crowded onlookers. No longer strangers, garnished with wreaths of regal orange marigold flowers, we were ushered in to a gathering of nearly a thousand people being fed, and waiting their opportunity to be photographed with the bride & groom. Although an arranged marriage, the couple were apparently smitten, not that you'd know by the lack of smiles…but a serious demeanour is the Indian way for such official photo occasions.
It's funny how it isn't the quality of our dress or manners that influences what people here think of us here. Rather, with prejudices that we also possess, as white westerners we have been treated with all the grandeur or contempt our status inspires. I feel quite awkward that the tone of my skin has 'got me into', and 'kept me out of' various areas of life here in India. Great wedding though.
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