The third event.
The other night one of our photographers invited us to his sister's wedding anniversary. Of course Jenneke and I eagerly accepted for this chance to witness Indian culture. The first step before arriving was to figure out what we were supposed to bring. After asking a few various shop owners and receiving various answers such as 'colourful fabric' to 'eggs' we decided on a box of traditional Indian sweets. At least it was something we could eat or drink when offered food... which of course was a big worry of mine.

That night we entered climbed the cement steps to the second floor of the boxy house. Immediately I was struck by the lively atmosphere. The same room I had visited earlier during a photography lesson had transformed. The walls were draped with a shimmering fabric of thick white and green vertical stripes. Incense, the smell of naan and chapati bread filled the hot thick air while the latest bollywood hits blared in the background. Immediately on arrival we were made to sit (note: it seems that when ever guests enter the room it is extremely polite to make them sit--and i mean MAKE. The moment I walk into a room some type of chair or a space on a bed is offered. If i refuse the host insists and continues to improve the the seating location by adding pillows or getting a better chair until i accept. During photography workshops the same occurs. This for me is a bit strange because I am teaching. Usually when I teach, I stand. However the Indian children will persistently pester me to sit when ever in the same vicinity as them). After wards a few of the family members were introduced to us. All of the women were draped in beautiful sari's delicately detailed with gold embroidery. They also adorned wonderful gold jewelry in places I never would have thought jewelery could connect. For instance one women had her hair pulled back with a gold barrette. From the barrette a chain ran from over the top of her ear to a piecing on her earlobe. Others had thin chains connecting their decorative nose rings to piercings on their ears. Although their jewelery was different from anything I had seen it it was all tastefully placed and added to the women's loveliness rather than looking gaudy.

Thus in a small room crowded room Janneke and I became lost in a sea of sari's and women. Everyone was very eager to talk to us. They all wanted to know our name and where we came from and try out any other english phrases they knew. There was one girl though who was much less timid than the others. She had big beautiful mischievous eyes and an even larger silly grin. All night all she did was give us compliments. "Mam you are looking very lovely today" (please imagine these phases in a very strong hindi accent). "Mam you have very beautiful eyes". "Mam you are very kind and nice just like your eyes". "Mam I really like you, you are so kind". After 10 minutes of this I had ran out of thank yous and compliments to return (later i will be unsure whether A.) she ment them B.) she was lying or C.) these were the only english words she knew). Instead I started asking about her family. These questions brought a strange crooked grin on her face. "Mam-this is my sister" and she would bring a giggling girl in a sari. Later "mam this is my cousin". She continued to introduce almost everyone as her 'sister or cousin' to the great hilarity of everyone at the party, only later to find out it was all a lie. She only has brothers. In fact it seems that lying to foreigners... actually lying in general is very humorous for Indians. The kids also seem to do it a lot. They make up believable facts about them selves, delivered with a straight face, and then the others in the group burst into laughter.

For me blatant lies are never 'funny or humorous' (only occasionally purposeful :-)). The lie-jokes seem for me to lack any sort of cleverness or double innuendo... Saying "oh this is my cow" when really it belongs to a neighbor is not funny for me but hilarious for Indians. Perhaps because everyone knows everyone else's business lying is funny because knowledge about other people's lives are extremely important essential facts, however still i dont quite see how plain straight lies are funny. Although I do love how humor is so cultural. For instance in New Zealand it seemed 'character based humor' was funny. Anyone who has watched Flight of the Concords or seen Eagle verses Shark will understand what I mean. The humor in these shows/movies lies in the pure 'oddity' of the characters. The characters are odd. The way their little quirks come out in everyday situations is what inspires the humor. In Mexico sexual humor was big. Joking about relationships or boyfriends or girlfriends was always sure to make my students laugh. For instance telling a girl to work with a boy because the boy 'needs inspiration' was always met with hearty laughs. Or saying ohh you think hes cute or teasing, or anything related to sexual relationships was 'hilarious'. In the U.S. think stupidity and jokes about stupidity is funny. We love 'blond jokes' jokes and jokes about people being dumb. I mean...need i mention a movie called 'Jackass'. It really seems to me that humor is such a cultural thing.

So after the introductions it was time for the cake. Everything and everyone stopped while the bride and the groom blew out candles on a HUGE cake. Immediately after the wife cut a piece of the cake and fed it to her husband and then the husband to his wife. Following this was picture time. After a few pictures of the wife and husband (and I mean a few) instead Jenneke and I became celebrities. EVERYONE wanted pictures with us. First we posed with the wife, husband, and cake (luckily they did not try to feed us....at this point). Then every one in the family insisted on having a personal photo with us. The little kids stopped their bollywood dancing to take a 'picture picture', the quiet mothers tugged on our sleeves, and even the bent old grandma's came up and stood besides us attempting to straighten their curved spine to look up at us with big puppy eyes that with out words asked for a picture.

This is also interesting. I would love to learn more about what is a 'good picture' in India. I could never imagine asking guests to be included in a picture at a family event, just because they were different. Were we being asked because it was polite,? we were different? I am also finding this frustrating when working with the kids. We are repeatedly telling the kids what is a 'good picture' and what is a 'bad picture'. Really this is from a Euro-American perspective. Perhaps for Indians a good picture is NOT the same as a good picture for us. Just because we think the lighting and subject look fantastic in a shot does not mean the kids would choose the same. In fact when looking through the photographs the kids repeatedly take photos of other pictures. I could understand if the picture (be it painting, graffiti or something similar) was extremely interesting, but any and often they take pictures of pictures from hindi gods, to mother Teresa graffiti, flower pictures, to a chart with numbers.

What was interesting during the whole party and picture taking event was that the men all sat together in the corner. They barely spoke. They just sat quietly in a group and seemed to be part of the decorations rather than the social scene. They of course were served first and only until they finished did everyone else get to take a piece of cake. It really made me sad, not because of gender hierarchy, but because they seemed lifeless, boring, and uninteresting. I thought of all the male teenagers in Fairmail and could never imagine them turning into these sitting lumps of people. Will our lively bollywood singing/dancing silly cheerful playful teenage boys morph into this?

Back in the sea of saris Jenneke and I were served a piece of cake on top of a very sweet cookie thing with the consistency of fudge (think 'slice' for any one who knows NZ 'slice'). Underneath was a spicy salty mix of fried lentil flour shaped into short thin sticks, peanuts, and puffed lentils. I guess this addition was to pair 'salty with sweet'. I somehow avoided eating the cake by feeding it to the indian children and poked at my 'salty snack'. However soon jenneke and eye were also targeted to be fed but through repeated refusal somehow managed to avoid it. Now it was time for the food and our exit. I would have loved to try the food but of course Indians have much stronger stomachs and I do want to make it the entire two months. So I downed the rest of my orange soda drink and somehow managed to explain that I had to make an important phone call home (family obligations are excusable because of course the family is very important in most Indian culture). So after saying my 'namaste's' to everyone we made our way home.