A family wedding. Felt so scared to be introduced to this huge clan. Stood there and felt the incredible profound beauty of this marriage. Felt so full of hope and love and care and respect for this beautiful country. Felt my heart explode with love. I knew it was never going to be my way of getting hitched, but it made me dream bigger and brighter than I had ever dared to. That I too would be loved and cherished and honoured in this way.
Long, old story that still pains me of the terrible marriage conversation that I had in my life with my father. Never really able to let that one go. He is not here anymore, and of course, I can not hold the fight or sadness with such a tight grip anymore. The stories collide and it was time to move on, and celebrate the madness of love. To Love another, and to be loved.
Hopeful promises fade into something less feisty, and more mundane, which too holds the flame of true and real tenderness without the pomp and ceremony.
Struggling now to keep my faith. To keep believing in love and hope binding commitment. Can not see it now through the tears. Fighting to pull down the wall of indifference. The procession now that I see is aisle filled men charging their glasses and pulling the groom headlong towards pride and machismo.
I see no garlands of jasmine, or plates heavy with offerings. I alone cannot hold the balance in this equation. It got loaded in the direction of the male blood bond. The softness of the community of mothers and sisters got pushed aside. There is no light shining, beckoning the groom to find his bride. Lets raise our glasses and fill our cheer and toast Hip Hip Hooray the Bride has left the house.