The doorbell rings. I realize with a start that I forgot to open the garage door for the kids. I make coffee while my girls wash up and sit for coffee and snacks. I cut myself a slice of cake and as an afterthought, break off a piece of the yezhu suthu murruku from my cousin’s wedding. I catch up on the episodes of Perfect Match that I missed over the weekend and savor the crisp murukku to cover the sweet aftertaste of buttercream icing.
It’s been a week since I flew out to Austin with my children to be present as my first cousin got married to her love in a traditional south Indian ceremony.
The wedding was intimate and cozy. The decor was tasteful and the food, really good. I got to meet family I had not met in years. The part that got me though, were the speeches at the reception. The bride’s parents, the grooms mom and siblings and finally the couple each recounted anecdotes from their childhood and capped it off with I-love-yous. When my cousin said “I love you, dad!” I teared up.
If there is one thing I wish I could do back in time, it would be letting my Appa know how much he meant to me. I loved him fiercely. Yet, I am not sure I ever vocalized that to him. I have gotten better at telling people I love, that I love them. Weddings are inherently opportunities to celebrate and cherish love. In the myriad rituals and outfit changes, sometimes, the purpose gets hazy. It was nice to see my cousin integrate the traditional with the present, to merge her American birth and upbringing with her Indian roots.
I look back at the pictures and realize what was even more remarkable is how well her white fiancé and his family adapted to the cross cultural wedding. They sported ginormous smiles, dressed themselves in saris and veshtis, adorned their hair with jasmine and ate off banana leaves with their hands. They did all of this with a sense of openness and respect without once grimacing at how inconvenient it was.
In the midst of political turmoil and a division that runs deep in this country, last week was a lovely reminder that as individuals, we can still find common ground. We can celebrate our differences and find ways to weave our lives together. If nothing, it gives me a sliver of hope that in the end, we will be okay.
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