The night before the wedding actually took place, Claire and Don and I were invited to attend a meeting at the home of neighbors of the Sthapits’. This was a conference with several of the eldest generation to decide what rituals would be done in the wedding, how, when, and by whom. Nine people sat in a circle on the floor and debated, coming to consensus on each point. Sajal asked questions about the meaning of some of the rituals. We didn’t understand anything unless it was interpreted, since it was all in Nepali and Newari languages. Everyone seemed satisfied and was standing to leave when evidently Sajal’s grandmother suggested that Don and I be invited to the part of the ceremony that takes place at the groom’s family’s home, not a part we would customarily be able to attend. There was a little debate but, we were told, she said “rules are made to be broken” and she prevailed. She is 75, Sajal’s mother’s mother, and probably the eldest person there.
On the wedding afternoon, Claire was elaborately made up by several friends working consecutively. Several people left for Sajal’s house to join the procession that would arrive later at the hotel, which was proxy for the bridal home where the first part of the ceremony would normally have taken place. Bhuwon and Rajya had arranged for the hotel to take care of all the preparations that we would have done, just as we took care of the responsibilities of the groom’s family last December. The processors walked, then rode most of the way, then walked again, with a band preceding them, headed by Sajal’s sister Swopnil, and carrying gifts of foods, sweets, clothing, jewelry, and symbolic objects. Sajal was not among them. This was his family coming to ask for Claire’s hand, a ritual that would normally have taken place days or weeks before. They laid the gifts before her and Sajal’s father Bhuwon formally asked Ian and me, and we agreed.
Only then did Sajal arrive in a car decorated with flowers, preceded once again by the band. Don and Ian and I circled the car three times tossing rice, the Ian brought Sajal out of the car. At this point the contest was on for Sajal’s shoes: the bride’s family trying to steal them (to sell them back later in an elaborate bartering process) and the groom’s family trying to protect them.
Sajal stood on a platform and I circled him three times pouring water from a silver pitcher, then welcomed him with a tikka on the forehead (the rice mixture is red and gooey; several people had let me practice on them). Then we led Sajal into the courtyard of the hotel where Claire was waiting. I was brought around to all his women and children family members to welcome them with a tikka and hand them an envelope of money.
Then the ceremony began, with the Buddhist priest (who is not a fulltime priest but does weddings and funerals) sitting to the side of the couple. There was a series of rituals involving oil lamps, incense, flowers, leaves, powders, water, foods such as apples, and the priest’s prayer book. Lots of motions, with the priest and everyone else telling the couple what to do all along the way, and sometimes pausing for a debate. They stood up after awhile and Claire walked around Sajal three times pouring water as I had, they exchanged garlands and jewelry, and Claire quickly reached down to kiss his feet while he protested. At a certain point when we had one of Claire’s hands and Sajal had the other, they were married. Or rather, they would have been married if they hadn’t already been. Everyone there knew that this was their third wedding—once in civil court in Washington D.C., once in Louisville, with the marriage license already confirmed in Nepal, and once again in Pokhara. (The next day they accidentally had a fourth wedding when they went to a temple for a blessing and the priest misunderstood and married them again.)
The band played and the dancing went on, Bhuwon dancing first, then various members of the family in various configurations as the singer called them out. Dinner was served. Then Sajal and Claire were led to the car to go to Sajal’s parents’ home, and we followed in various cars and vans.
Sajal’s home was strung all over with lights. The procession appeared again, with the band, with Ian and a lot of excited children in the lead. Claire and Sajal both stood on wooden platforms this time, and Sajal’s mother Rajyashree performed various rituals with them and then welcomed Claire into their house by giving her the other end of a key and pulling her inside. At the doorway Sajal’s sisters extorted money from him in a debate that was almost as elaborate as the shoe debate had been, and finally a satisfying price was reached and he was allowed inside.
The rest took place under a tent in the driveway. Claire and Sajal and the priest performed various rituals as before. Then each of Sajal’s family members were introduced to her, each receiving a handful of nuts or a bag of nuts, and giving her a small bit of cash. The rest of us watched. That was the conclusion of the wedding. The crowds had thinned considerably by then, and we said goodbye to Sajal and Claire and his parents and grandmother and rode back to the hotel.
The wedding was beautiful and elegantly done. Sajal’s family worked hard to blend cultures and adapt rituals, and to do the parts of both families, and to do it with great style, class, dignity, and fun.
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