(a special thanks to my best friend, Shreyasi, for being readily available with a camera!!)
It wasn't really about the roses. But at that particular moment they seemed awfully important, as we ran around the house, my friend and I, looking for a vase. We failed miserably and that led to some bickering. Finally we settled for this little steel pot, which seemed fairly okay. (Boy, were we wrong.) Our lack of good choice led to a little debate, which was mostly about the sticker that was still on the pot, until we somehow convinced my aunt that it wasn't really about the roses, adding that no one would notice them in all the bustle. That brought on a little argument about me being young and hence unfamiliar with good etiquette. Normally, I would have muttered that it was pretty much not her concern how
my the house looked. But, my mother had made sure that one thing was perfectly clear to my short tempered self: a wedding is everyone's concern.
Ever since I was a little girl, who could spend days with just a pair of scissors and some paper, I dreamt of wrapping all the gifts at my sister's wedding. (I know, it's funny, but I did do it and do it well, mind you.) As a family, we've never been very keen on huge ceremonies and all the band-baaja, not to mention, being decked up and appearing prim and proper. So I never pictured myself going all the way to Chennai and buying over a hundred and fifty sarees in two days or actually enjoying it. Right from choosing the invitation card (which was purple and pretty) to accompanying my sister to the beauty parlour (which I don't enter unless I absolutely have to) I was all in.
And so, on that day, as I sat in the front yard (then beautifully decorated in red) I decided to overlook the fact that a kid was kicking my pet cat. I didn't raise a word about the shoes scattered around the empty little shoe rack that my mum had placed there, all neat and tidy, as part of the decoration, apparently. And even though it wasn't really about the roses, there they were; almost perfectly arranged in the pot, while I sat there, dressed in salwar kameez and wearing a bindi, not really happy about the condition I was in and yet totally excited: a loner and a judgmental skeptic, though I am, I did look forward to my sister's wedding!
As you've probably guessed, this isn't really about the roses, either. It's about how something can be enjoyed even when everything is going wrong or crazy or is just a mess. It's me reminding myself that different can be fun, too. The wedding wasn't exactly like we'd planned, it probably never is, but it was awesome, nonetheless. The marriage, I'm sure, is better. And my sister, of course, is perfect!
(This came as a surprise.)