Crossroads

In the week past, I spent time in Delhi, Bangalore, Mysore, and Coorg. In each place I managed to address something wedding-related. I also broke a few promises- I bought more stuff for my trousseau and I haven’t been very good about updating this space.
Other than wedding stuff, my family and friends pampered me all week—a pleasant and welcome surprise. All the love unplugged my desire to see friends and family everywhere else.
You know the T-shirt store in Delhi? It is the coolest T-shirt store in the world. My cousin’s friend, a Delhiite, tried to diffuse my expectations of the place by comparing it to a t-shirt store chain called tantra, which I think is pretty kitschy and often crass. The place is called People Tree and it’s this tiny space filled with unique, wearable artwork.
While I was in Delhi my cousin in San Francisco dropped in with his family. I knew they would be in India this month, but I didn’t think I would get to see them. His second daughter is new to the world and a sweet butterball of a baby.
I also went shopping for the ‘veil’ part of my wedding ensemble. I am wearing my mother’s magenta wedding sari and my aunt is making my matching musq. In the store my aunt draped the sari on me and put the musq over my head, which I‘ll have to wear until I go to his family’s place. Through the veil I peered at my reflection and thought, “This is different.”
As I grew up and overwhelmed my mind would blank out at the mention of marriage/wedding, I stopped knowing what the marker of that journey would look like. However, as a young girl, I often pictured myself in a white wedding gown. Whereas now, in reality, I’m not even supposed to buy white since white is associated with death in this context. Shades of red are the colours of good fortune, not signs of a harlot’s haughty ways.
Turns out we’re all growing up. When I arrived at my gran’s place all the adults greeted me. All the kids were missing. My cousins are both in graduate school and my sister is stateside. At my gran’s house there’s a bedroom for me and my sister. I’ve never stayed in that room alone. My sister has a tendency to keep her place museum-orderly, but usually wreaks havoc in this room in my granny’s house. At night I would wake up and look around for her mess—the same mess that we usually fight and then laugh about almost every year.
After a day with the adults I called one cousin who is studying in Mysore (about a two-hour bus ride away) and cajoled her into coming home the following day. We spent the day visiting all my parents’ siblings and basically she was there to share looks as relatives piled food in front of us and warmly scolded, “Eat more child!”
As you may have assessed I am not camera-happy, but I do have some pics I’ll put up soon.