A Wedding In Paradise

Hi Everyone!

Today is the Ekka Day. It's rainy and a little cool. I've just basically been hanging out, so i thought i would post a story I'd been working on! Not for school or anything, just for fun!

Cool!

Take care.

Cheers,
Jacks



The tent vibrates with laughter and joy as almonds and sweets fly through the air. Local musicians’ tune their instruments, children dance, and the bride gazes far off into the distance. The tent’s overflowing with relatives, generations of family both young and old, coming together for the final farewell of another daughter.

The harmonium player strikes a key on his instrument, and a mysterious sound lingers above the crowd. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the festivities grow bigger and louder as the men leave the tent, people take to their feet, and the women flock towards the young bride.

They encircle her: she outstretches her arms, her gold jewelry jingles, and then they all begin to sing. People watch wide eyed as the bride’s branded with intricate henna designs; marking her pre-determined passage from girl to woman.

***

All of the guide books say Kashmir’s the closest thing to heaven on earth, and from the minute we step into the airport, I find I have a hard time believing that. Men patrol the grounds with machine guns slung across their backs and armor strapped around their waists. My sister and I are two of the only westerners waiting to clear customs, and I suddenly begin to think this whole wedding in Kashmir experience wasn’t such a good after all.

An airport employee escorts us outside, asking us repeatedly where our ride is. We explain our circumstances and assure him our driver is on his way. Outside locals hang over the barricades shouting names of loved ones passing through the doors, while guards run their hands along the exterior of their weapons. I watch them closely; their actions send shivers down my spine.
Slowly, passengers disappear through the gates until we’re the last ones. I look around, my heart jumps into my throat, and just as I’m wondering if now would be a good time to turn around and go home, our driver approaches.

We rush over to the gate; the airport employee looks over our paper work, questions the driver and then the armored guard waves us out into the open with the barrel of his gun.


***

Our driver takes us to our friend Rouf’s village. He receives us in the narrow court yard, excited we’d come all this way to join in the celebrations of his little sister’s wedding. Rouf takes our luggage and we walk towards his house. We leave our shoes at the front door and follow him through a compact lounge room. There’s no TV or DVD player, just a functional radio, a few throw cushions and a massive aerial rug that serves as lazy boy, love seat and recliner.

Rouf leads us up a narrow stair case and into a tiny bedroom. It’s humble: carpeted floors, vibrant throw cushions and two blankets, our sleeping quarters for the week.

Exhausted, we settle in. Rouf leaves us to relax and reminds us that the festivities begin tonight.

***

I can hear the celebrations and see the dancing shadows up ahead in the tent as Rouf leads us through the court yard. Relatives cooking food greet us with gentle smiles; while nephews and nieces follow behind us: tugging at Rouf’s shirt sleeves, pointing, whispering and laughing.

We follow Rouf through the tent flaps and are greeted by a family of strangers happy to see us. I can’t help but to wonder what we look like to them as we follow Rouf through crowd. After all we’re different, westerners from North America, an unseen rarity on Kashmiri soil.

Rouf introduces us to his mother and father. They’re excited, and although they can’t speak English, their actions speak louder then words. They greet us with smiles, embrace us with hugs, and seal our meeting with a kiss on each cheek, as if they’d known us for years.

A woman approaches with a handful of almonds and motions me to open my hands. I split the booty with my sister; we make ourselves comfortable, crack open some nuts and then Rouf takes us to the head of the tent so we can pay our respects to the bride.

She’s gorgeous. The sequins on her green and gold dress twinkle like stars in the night sky. She greets us with a hug, kisses us on each cheek, and then Rouf positions us on either side of her make shift throne so he can take our picture.

***
We relish in the evenings celebrations and customs: traditional Kashmiri song and dance, a blessing for the bride by a boy in a dress, and food of various spices and flavors.

As the evening bleeds into morning, I find I’m struggling to stay awake. I pop in a few more almonds, notice the kids around me have dropped into a sound sleep amidst their mother’s laps, and then it hits me. The guide books were right, this country is heaven on earth, for although I didn’t see it upon arrival, I can see it now: in the faces of the warm hearted people around me.