A Wedding

I remember, as a child, my parents leaving my sister and me in the care of our grandmother and aunt while they went off to attend weddings. The next morning, I’d find dainty white tulle bags filled with Jordon almonds and tiny bottles of liquor on the kitchen table. These favors were often adorned with a colored ribbon citing the names of the bride and groom and their wedding date. I could not begin to imagine how magical the past evening was, and I’d beg my mother for all the details about the dresses, the food and the dancing. I ached to go to a wedding because it seemed like the most magnificent party—a grown-up one too. However, my mother explained that weddings were not meant for children; they were rather long affairs that ended late at night. But being the youngest of my cousins on both my mother and father’s side of the family, I would not have to wait long before the family wedding invitations began rolling in with my name included on the envelopes. As cousin after cousin married, I never tired of the grand affairs. I gawked at the gowns, learned what chateaubriand meant, decided which flowers were the prettiest and made mental notes of all the details for when my turn came to be the bride.

I honed my wedding-planning skills while working at a bridal magazine when ballrooms, bands and DJs, caterers, photographers, white-glove service, passed hors d’oeuvres, carving stations, ice sculptures, registries and bridal gowns became the bane of my existence. I loved every minute of it,  not because I was in my twenties and in love, but because I understood that underneath Vera Wang’s bespoke sheer illusion fabric lay something bigger than the event itself. What is it about a wedding that makes even the most cynical person giddy with anticipation for the festivities? It can’t solely be the open bar, can it? Maybe Owen Wilson’s character explains it best in his line from Wedding Crashers when he tells Rachel McAdams that everyone at a wedding wants to believe they are in the presence of true love. After all, no married veteran would dare tell the prince and princess that their lives will not be a fairy tale, for their wedding day is just that. On this night, in this moment, all is perfect, and we are fortunate to witness this rare purity.

Last weekend, my friends’s daughter Amanda married her prince, Kishore in a ceremony that blended two families and two cultures—Indian and American. The pale pinks and white colors of the traditional American decor stood in stark contrast to the bold yellows, red and orange colors of the Indian clothing and flowers. The dynamic, strong and fun colors were as bright and full-of-life as this wonderful couple. After the wedding, we continued to celebrate at the outdoor bar on a beautiful spring night that no one wanted to see end. As we sipped drinks, laughed and talked, I looked out and saw the moon—a surreal, huge perfectly round ball of the brightest orange fire. In my mind, it will forever be Amanda and Kishore’s moon.