Another
weekend, another wedding for Praveena and me to attend. A Muslim wedding, no
less; yet like the Tamil Catholic wedding we attended in June, another poignant
example of Canadian multiculturalism. The bride’s family heritage was Indian,
the groom’s Pakistani. Praveena and I knew neither of them personally, but that
didn’t stop the bride’s mother, Praveena’s colleague, from inviting us.
The
festivities took place in the Governor’s Room, the largest ballroom of the Canadian
National Exhibition’s Liberty Grand building. Built in 1926, the building served
for 45 years as a display case of sorts for the Ontario government’s general
exhibits during the CNE. When Ontario Place opened in 1971, the government
moved its display case there. Since 2001, the Governor’s Room has served as an
elegant setting for weddings and other posh parties.
The wedding
was an evening event, with the invitation indicating a 5:30 arrival time. But
when Praveena and I showed up just after 5:30, we were among the first
arrivals, which is to say the least late. Over the next ninety minutes, guests
in evening attire trickled into the leafy courtyard, where drinks were being served.
(The open bar surprised me a bit. I wasn’t even sure there’d be booze, it being
a Muslim wedding.) Much mingling and drinking and picture-taking ensued. We got
a sense of being in the midst of money, that Praveena and her physician
colleagues weren’t nearly the richest people in attendance.
The theme of
multiculturalism quickly asserted itself, with a well-integrated crowd of
Arabs, Asians, whites, browns and a few blacks. The mix of sartorial styles was
particularly interesting. I felt like I was at an international fashion show with
all the hijab and khimar headscarves, kufis, turbans, kurtas and sherwanis, saris, shalwar kameezes, lehengas, churidars, modest long-sleeved gowns and slutty
low-cut dresses. Here we had the best of Canadian diversity on display at the
aptly named Liberty Grand.
A two-piece
band filled the courtyard with Indian music. One musician played a shenai
(Indian oboe) while the other played tabla (North Indian drums), overtop a
recorded drone of mind-melting sitar. Loud as it was—such that we occasionally
had to raise our voices to chat—the music was one of the highlights for me.
As liquor
flowed freely and lips flapped around us, I started wondering if the bride and
groom were getting anxious. Usually by this time of the day, during all the
drinking and mingling—at the kinds of wedding I’m used to, at least—the special
couple has already undergone the ceremony, exchanged vows and kisses, been
pronounced man and wife. Yet here they remained unmarried. Was this extra
unmarried time good or bad? What if one of them took the opportunity to
reconsider?
Finally, around
7:30, everyone was ushered inside, into the Governor’s Room, to await the
ceremony, which would begin around 8. The brother of the bride was sort of the
MC. But really, all he did was welcome everyone and introduce the Fez-wearing
father of the bride. Proud papa came up to the stage and spoke at length.
Seemingly well-educated, he lauded Canada’s multicultural tradition, invoking
Thomas Paine and his famous quote: “The world is my country, all mankind are my
brethren, and to do good is my religion.”
Once the
father introduced the presiding Imam, the ceremony ramped up. The Imam turned
out to be my favourite speaker. Conducting the proceedings in thickly accented
English, he frequently cited Allah (obviously, it being a Muslim wedding), but
not in a discomforting, we’re-better-than-you kind of way. Due to his thick
accent, I couldn’t understand everything he said, but of what I did understand,
he said some really cool things. At one point, he said that no matter what God
you prayed to, no matter what faith you professed, you’d end up held in good
regard by your god as long as you did good in the world. Shades of Thomas
Paine!
Another wise
sentiment: A shout-out to those who can’t see the faults of others because
they’re too consumed with the faults of themselves.
The ceremony
lasted a couple hours. Then came the food, starting with green salad. Famished,
I ate it dry, before the wait staff could bring the balsamic vinaigrette
dressing. A steady procession of food continued over the next hour: curried vegetables,
spicy eggplant, spinach paneer, biryani lamb, tandoori chicken, naan, papadum,
spicy pickled mango chutney. Dessert consisted of pistachio ice cream in a
(literally) chocolate cup or panna cotta covered in fresh berries. A buffet table
also offered wedding cake and assorted hand-held goodies.
Shortly
after dinner, the dance floor opened up so we could burn off all those
calories. Guests young and old gleefully shook booty til 1am, at which point
the hired band, God Made Me Funky, shut ‘er down. The ballroom
quickly cleared out after that as guests made their way to the parking lot.
All in all,
the evening offered great enjoyment, and certainly a different side to the uncomfortable
Muslim stereotype perpetuated in western media. Education truly is the enemy of
narrow-minded fundamentalism. Sensible folks of all backgrounds really just
want to get along and have fun together.
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