There is a reason for everything, my grandma says; as is there a reason for you and me to be on this earth.Â
The reason is obviously our parents. If not for them, I would not have been, if not for them, you would not have been.
Photo albums are a big favourite in the family. Any given lazy day, when the whole family is together and there is not much work planned for the day, we love to pore through the various pictures that have been collected over a long time. There is a whole picture album dedicated to the wedding of my parents, seeing which I have always wished to have been a part of their big day.
Her wedding saree which my mom has preserved till date is a beautiful creation and I am yet to see something as beautiful as that. It has all the elements of a traditional wedding saree â€“ the colour red, heavy zari work, you name it, there it is. What makes my motherâ€™s saree stand out from the crowd is, the zari on it is not of the golden thread that is normally seen, instead the work is in silver. Fashion has changed, so has trends in the clothing industry, but the truth remains that, till date, that heavy red saree wrapped up safely in my motherâ€™s almirah is my favourite. How I would love to help her drape it on her big day, the day she would marry my father.
I am famous in the social circle as the girl with the most handsome father; I beam every time my friends make this statement. When the day I dream of happens again, I want to be there, to iron out his cream shirt and the off white mund (dhoti), to apply a tilak of sandal on his forehead, to ensure he looks at his charming best the day he is going bring home my mother as his wife.
The guests would all be ushered in with a smile, a shower of rose petals, a sprinkling of rose water and escorted till their seats. The wait till the bride and the groom come up on stage wouldnâ€™t be boring one bit, as there would be a live band performing various tunes on the nadaswaram and the panchavadyam.
After having given dakshinaand taking the eldersâ€™ blessings, he would wait on the stage, as I and our other family members bring our beautiful bride into the auditorium. Along the aisle, there would be a shower of fragrant petals along with prayers and best wishes of two sets of parents, siblings, cousins, friends, neighbours and all other relatives.
Accompanied by the tune playing on the instruments, the groom ties the thaali, as the mangalsutra or the holy string of matrimony is known, there would be another shower of petals from the ceiling, as if the heavens themselves have opened to bless my parents.
The feast that would follow would be talked about for many years to come. The traditional sadyawould be served, with all the different accompaniments to the rice â€“ the achar, pappadam, upperi, erisseri, thoran, aviyal, olan, parippu, sambar, pulissery â€“ you name it and all those would be on the banana leaf that is laid out in front of you. As any avid foodie knows, no sadya is complete without payasam â€“ the kheer; at this feast too, you wouldnâ€™t be disappointed and will be treated to 3 different payasams one each chosen by dad, mom and me.
That bright sunny day in February, when my parents tied the knot, is the day I want to repeat itself â€“ with just a slight change- that when it repeats, I want to be present, to witness the great day â€“ of my living gods getting married, and taking their first step in their new life.Â
PS: Edited to Add the WOW Badge upon being chosen as a WOW post :Â
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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.
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