The Life Lesson I Learned at My First Hindu Wedding

This weekend, my boyfriend and I attended a Hindu wedding ceremony.

On Friday night, we went to the Vedic ceremony at the Hindu Sabha Temple. The room was full of circular tables for the guests to sit at and witness the marriage of the bride and groom.

My boyfriend and I stood at the back of the room, carefully contemplating which table to occupy. I saw one table that was empty and offered a great view because it was close to the front. I pointed to it and we headed over.

We sat down, and the ceremony began shortly after. But as a first-timer, I was so excited to see the ceremony that we moved a few seats over to get a better view. When I moved, I heard some huffing and puffing going on behind me. I turned my head to see that I was now in the way of a little girl’s view. The girl, about 11, gave me a series of dirty looks, making it obvious that she was annoyed with me.

At first, I felt bad for impeding her ability to see, but as she continued to huff and puff, obviously trying to make a point, I was reminded of a book I read in grade eight.

The book was called The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey. One of the seven habits that stuck with me throughout the years was how to be proactive instead of reactive. Essentially, had she had read the book, she would have known that in this case, rather than huffing and puffing and readying herself to blow a house down, she should’ve simply got up and switched seats.

With this reminder, I was able to watch the bride and groom perform the rites and marry each other-guilt free. My boyfriend and I even joked about it; every time we shifted in our seats we looked at each other, as if we feared for our lives and listened for her loud, exhaustive sighs.

The second night of the wedding was the reception. It took place in a beautiful banquet hall. After dinner and a few speeches, the DJ asked the crowd if we were ready to party, to which everyone in the room replied a roaring yes. But when the music started, I was reminded of just how much my boyfriend hates dancing.

Despite being ready to fly over to the dance floor, my date needed a couple drinks in his system before busting his moves. I learned very early on in our relationship that this is just how he is.

I was annoyed. I sat there wondering when on earth he was going to be ready, because I sure was.

“Go dance,” he suggested. I rolled my eyes. “By myself?” I shot back.

Just as I was about to huff and puff, I remembered the little girl from the night before. Just as fast as I was able to diagnose the problem of her being reactive instead of proactive, I was able to realize that I was being reactive, too.

I asked myself, “Are you upset that Renaldo isn’t dancing? Or are you upset because you’re not dancing?”

Boom.

The issue the first night was that the little girl’s view had been blocked. Rather than get up and move to one of the many empty seats, she made a commotion to get our attention and hope that we would pity her and unblock her view.

The issue the second night was that I was ready to dance and my partner wasn’t. And so I too, sat there, getting ready to huff and puff, hoping he’d feel bad for me and get up and dance. But what type of dancing would that be?

On that second night, I headed over to the dance floor. I didn’t know anyone, but I knew how to dance. So I did. And after a few more drinks, he came and joined me and we danced together.

So many times, our emotions cloud our ability to identify the real issue. We’re unable to see what it is that’s really bothering us. And more importantly, we’re unable to see that the solution lies within us, and certainly within our control.

In both cases, the solution, and the lesson, was the same.

Sometimes, all you have to do is get up and move.

The Bachelor Recap: You're Joking, Right?

I missed the “exciting” season premiere of season like, 101 of The Bachelor. However, during a 5 hour break between a lecture and my shift at work, I decided to watch it online.

It never ceases to amaze me how silly I can be sometimes.

To sum it all up, 25 plus an additional 2 women were selected amongst a sickening number of women who applied to be contestants on the show after finding out that the bachelor would be no other than some guy named (get your accents ready) Juan Pablo Galavis.

From what I know, he was on The Bachelorette last season and despite not winning the heart of Desiree Hartstock, he did win the hearts of women all over the world. Critics say it was his devotion to his daughter and life as a single dad that wooed us all. But maybe, just maybe, it had to do with his athletic build, perfectly messy hair, enchanting eyes, and “romantic” accent.

I watched in agony as the “wide” variety of blondes, brunettes, and the token black female were introduced. Each of them trying desperately to put on ridiculous Latin accents to impress him, appear genuine, loving, and “in it for love”. Despite vomit sitting comfortably at the back of my throat, I was able to waste an entire 86 minutes of my life that I will never get back.

As the show progressed, I found myself questioning the ultimate purpose of the show, particularly, the unintended consequences of it.

Maybe some of the women are in it for love, certainly some of them are in it for the publicity, and I bet a few of them are in it hoping for some sort of sexual encounter.

But as I sit here in the audience of God knows how many women, more critical than enticed, I can’t help but think about what this show says about women, and how it portrays us to be.

A number of these women in their introductions jumped at the chance to tell the stories of their “sad” and “depressing” love lives. One of them stated, “I was hoping to be married by 31.” As the visual image of depression grows on her face, she tells the audience the story of how that all fell apart after her ex-fiance called off the wedding six weeks after their engagement.

Aw, how sad. Two words: move on.

My spirits rose when a few of the women portrayed themselves as career-oriented females. One of them is a criminal prosecutor, one of them is a pediatric nurse, and to be honest those were the only two careers I remember really. My spirits sank again when the women attributed their devotion to their career as the reason they were unable to find love.

As if we haven’t seen this enough in our society; the unspoken ultimatum given to women; it’s either your career or your love life, and you'll be lucky if you can fit motherhood into the equation.

Although, Marissa Mayer did a fine job of indulging in all three.

I’m sick of it all.

After watching the show, unsure of whether or not I would progress to the second episode (luckily I have 6 days to decide), I couldn’t help but feel like women can do better. As much as I’d like to blame the television production company, I’m quite sure it wasn’t them holding knives to the throats of the contestants who uttered the following remarks:

“I’ve been dying to hug you.” (Dying, really?)

“It’s not just a rose, it’s my future.” (I doubt your future was that bright anyway, honey)

“I’m sick and tired of people looking at me and feeling sorry for me.” (This came from the woman who had been dumped by her ex-fiance and she said it as her eyelashes slightly unglued themselves)

I don’t know about you, but I don’t actually know any women like this. Not in real life. Most of the women I know who are single are single by choice, or patiently waiting for love. And half the women I know in relationships are dying to get out. Although we ought to be more careful with our use of the word "dying", right contestant #1?

Maybe it was my mistake to watch the show, although I do recall truly enjoying it when I watched it a few years ago. Mind you, that was before I took a few Women and Gender Studies courses at the University of Toronto and totally gave in to trashy, over-sensationalized television drama. I can’t be that unfair though, because I do watch every Real Housewives there is religiously. (New Jersey is definitely my favorite. Gotta love those Italians)

But how can we be onlookers of such genuine tragedy?

If you ask me, which I’m well aware that you didn’t, the biggest part of this tragedy isn’t the lame essence and desperation of the show. It’s that it has been so popular that it has lasted for like, 101 seasons, and evolved itself into The Bachelorette and Bachelor Pad.

The only ray of light I found in the entire show came from, drumroll please, the Canadian! Woohoo! 29-year-old opera singer Sharleen came to the rescue of dignified women. She was granted the holy grail (first impression rose) for being “elegant” and “beautiful” according to Galavis, and undesperate, according to ME.

Prior to the rose being delivered to her, she mentioned on camera that she felt, quite frankly, that the build-up of the chemistry she anticipated fell short of what she felt, or didn’t feel, after meeting (accent time) Juan 

Pablo. She opened up about how forced the connection felt, and then she uttered these magical words:

“It’s about whether I feel something or not. That’s the most important thing.”

The best part of the entire show was her nonchalant reaction to receiving, and apprehensively accepting the rose. She actually said, "Sure", when he asked her if she would accept it. Priceless. She proved to everyone that desperation doesn't win you a rose, just ask the girl in the pink dress with the terrible dye job who thought he called her name, had to turn around, and asked if he'd take them both anyway. Yeah, that really happened.

Sharleen proved that being cool, calm, and collected in the midst of such madness might get you farther than an erotic massage 5 minutes into your one-on-one time.

Bravo!

I know that come next Monday, I will face a moral issue of whether or not to tune into it on television. And if I do it will be because I have absolutely no homework, will have consumed a glass of wine or two, and really, to see Sharleen, my heart (and vagina’s) hero.

But the promise I’m making to myself and to my readers is that I will not let down my sense of reality, and certainly not my understanding of it, and believe for one second that this is a fair representation of women.

But in case it is, we have got a lot of work to do.