Kheri Kalan - a weekend in the country

Where my gastrointestinal system is put to the test & passes with flying colors and they try unsuccessfully to teach me to dance Indian style.

The road to Kheri Kalan passes by the ancient Tughlakabad fortress, the third city of Delhi, and through the suburban city of Faridabad where posters advertising the "Genetic Citizens Club" left me intrigued since the rest was written in Hindi. You know you're moving from city to village as motor rickshaws give way to bike rickshaws. I have a theory that the number of persons crammed into a three-wheeler is proportional to the distance from the city. In Delhi you see one or two people inside - the further out into the country you get, the heavier the load up to and including the entire population of a small village stuffed into and clinging on to a creaky three-wheeler.

After stopping to visit the temple and try sugarcane juice (btw, saw an article in the Delhi paper yesterday about sugarcane juice sellers and outbreaks of gastroenteritis and cholera...) we stopped a few more times to pick up watermelon, regular melon, mithai (sweets) and a lassi (but the lassi walla wasn't there). I was starting to get the feeling that I was in for a lot of food this weekend.

It didn't take long to see the proof either. As soon as I met Brahm Datt's family the procession of neighbors, family, friends, food and drink began. They were coming to see the American who'd come to the village. They brought out a huge tray of appetizers and sweets and set it down in front of me. It all looked good so I had one but nobody else would have any - it was all for me! Then they brought sweets. I realized that I had better start pacing myself.

After a while we made our way to the tent that was set up for the ceremony and feast (I think this was the "tilak" part of the days-long process). I was the only female in the tent watching the ceremony which was going along fine, the groom was getting loaded down with gifts (ranging from towels to a gold watch), until a guy in the front row had an epileptic seizure. The men jumped right in, helping him, holding him down and some rubbing his legs and feet but they ushered me right out of there like he was possessed by the devil.

From there I went down the street into the room where all the women were. They were seated on the floor, passing around a tray with the bride's gifts on it (mostly jewelry). Then the chanting and dancing began. They dragged me up and got me to dance, people were stopping by the open doorway taking pictures with their cell phones.

After a brief break where the ladies changed into even-more-sparkly clothes (and I didn't fit into the outfit they had for me) we went back for the vegetarian feast. I tried everything - except one dish that had so many chiles floating on top that I thought I'd better stay away - paneer, channa, poori, salad Indian-style, raita, subzi, pani puri, jalebi - I ate it all.

The dancing went on long after we left for bed (charpoys in this case) - I slept with the Brahm Datt's wife and daughters on the roof terrace under the stars listening to the music until dawn.