A cultural feast in Pakistan

To the untrained eye, it was a lavish feast, accompanied by singing and dancing that was straight out of a Bollywood movie. To us, the desis, or locals of the subcontinent, as we like to call ourselves, it was regular fare.

Well, regular by our standards, which more or less involve five days of singing, dancing, feasting and ceremonies that revolve around such things as henna, ubtan and yet more feasting.

It may have been my first visit to Pakistan, for a friend’s wedding, but everything felt familiar. The warmth of the relatives – from being ordered around by the aunties to being spoiled by them – to the chatter around me was such that I hoped the monsoon showers that thundered above us the night before I was scheduled to fly back to Abu Dhabi would postpone my journey.

Having lived more than half my life outside the subcontinent, it is only now when I return that I realise the full impact of what I have missed over the years.

Even before the official events got under way, the bride’s friends, cousins and anyone else who decided to drop by would gather in the living room, where all the furniture had been pushed against the wall and an extraordinary array of carpets, collected by the family over the past four decades, were spread out for dance rehearsals.

It is customary to perform elaborate song and dance numbers during the mehndi – when henna is applied on the bride’s and other women’s hands.

Then there is the dholki. At this time, a traditional drum or dholak is placed in the middle of a circle of girls who sing while others dance. Songs range from the usual Bollywood hits to traditional wedding songs, as well as improvised songs in which the words are customised for the situation. For example, my friend was marrying a banker whose company has posted him to Khartoum. So we took an old 1950s Bollywood tune about a lover calling from Rangoon and replaced the words. The sentiment, however, remained the same, and it made the bride blush.

Then there was the ubtan, a ceremony in which a paste made from turmeric, sandalwood powder, herbs and aromatic oils is applied to the bride’s hands and face by her family and the groom’s mother. She is then adorned in bangles and earrings made of flowers – a simple precursor to the next day, when she will be dripping in jewels. Typically, this is to ensure a glowing bride, but it is also an excuse for another round of singing and dancing (and of course feasting on juicy kebabs).

After these ceremonies came the simple nikaah – the singing of legal documents followed by a lavish wedding reception. The bride was finally ready for the real and married world.

However much I sang, danced, greeted guests and ran errands for the bride, I realised I had come to cherish a part of my culture that, in spite of a border that separates India and Pakistan, really knows no bounds.