Malayali in London ~ Part-46

Chapter -13:

...Wedding...

It’s the twenty-seventh of August, the day I’m going to have to remember as my and Sawyer’s wedding anniversary. I had chosen the date because it was divisible by three. I don’t know why but I like dates and numbers divisible by three, like my birthday on the twenty-first of December for example.

        I’m standing behind the gate in the hallway to the courtyard, waiting impatiently for it to open so that I can make my entrance. Jennie sets her diya (a holy lamp of sorts), which is bigger than the usual diya, on the floor and sets the fall of my saree again. I’m wearing the saree that my mother wore for her wedding. It’s a beautiful off-white saree with a golden border tons of beautiful embroidery and a little mirrorwork. it had green accents and a bottle green blouse. Jennie then adjusts some of the intricate gold jewellery that I am wearing. The jewellery is also the same that my mother wore for her wedding. She strokes her hand over the Kasumala, a traditional piece of South Indian jewellery worn by the bride, the only thing that I am wearing that my mother did not wear for her wedding. “All of this was your mother’s?” she asks. I smile “Everything except the Kasumala." Jennie adjusts her own dark green saree which she had bought for the wedding as she asks another question, “Why are you wearing everything your mother wore for her wedding? Don't you want it to be something of your own?” I smile. She does not know anything about my parents so I can see why she is asking this. My bangles jingle when I grab her hands and say, “Well because it is a tribute to their love. Their love story was the most beautiful one you will ever hear. It was true love. All of this,” I point at all that I am wearing, “it’s a souvenir of their story. It is special to me. They got me and William thanks to their love which was special. I find myself lucky to be made from that kind of love. That is why I want to cherish every chance I get to be reminded of that love story and feel it whenever I can.” Jennie smiles like she is intrigued by what I just told her, “Sounds like a love story I’d like to listen to.” I laugh slightly, “That’s a story for another time.” Jennie nods and picks her diya up from the floor and turns to face the door.

The door opens and we walk in. Flowers fall on us as we walk to the mandapam. I look at my parents. My father has his hand around my mother who is resting her head on his shoulder. They are both smiling. I can tell that they are especially happy that I am wearing exactly what my mother had worn for her wedding. I know they were happy when my brother asked to wear Dad’s tuxedo for his wedding. I don’t know but it’s sort of a norm or belief for me and my brother that if we wear exactly what our parents had worn for their wedding, maybe we’ll somehow be blessed with a similar love. I don’t know but it surely makes the whole event seem more special.

I glance at my brother and Sarah, who are smiling as they throw flower petals at me. I also catch Theo throwing flowers and smiling. I finally caught Sawyer’s eye, who looking at me with the same distant look on his face as my father had in his wedding photographs as he looked at my mother. I glance at Amama who is standing behind the mandapam. She is holding back tears of joy as she watches me walk down the aisle. I smile at the sight before me. It’s marvellous. And I still can’t believe that this is actually happening. This has to be a dream. It just has to be. No wedding day can be this good. It just can’t be. I sit down on the mandapam next to Sawyer, wearing a beautifully elegant white suit with a bottle green shirt beneath his suit jacket. His shirt makes his green eyes stand out and green is my favourite colour, and now it has a reason to be. His sandy blonde hair is made up and tidy, unlike how it is casually tousled over his forehead on other days. He smiles at me. And his smile speaks for him. It tells me that he is excited to start our happily ever after. He doesn’t want this day to end and wishes that time could stop in its tracks so that he can savour this moment a little longer. He bends forward and whispers in my ear, “You ready to start?” I smile and say, “Yes.” He smiles and turns to face the fire of the mandapam.

The ceremony is just about over. We get up to take rounds of the mandapam. This is the second last ritual before the wedding ends. It seemed as if time slowed down when Sawyer turned to look at me. He grabbed my hands as we walked and flowers fell on us. We sit back down after the final round. I sit down to his left, the closest place to his heart as we consider it in our culture, and my mother hands him the thaali (called mangal sutra in many parts of India, it is a necklace that the groom ties around the bride’s neck). Sawyer takes it and looks at me, smiling. He sort of asks for permission to proceed with his smile. I slightly laugh and nod. After that, he leans forward and ties the thaali around my neck. After that, my mother walks over to me and lifts my teeka (a piece of jewellery worn on the forehead). Sawyer takes sindoor (a red powdered pigment) on a coin and then puts it in my maang (partition of hair above the forehead). And with that, the wedding ceremony is over and Sawyer and I are married.