The house is abuzz with excitement. It's my cousin Nirmala's wedding day. Nirmala or Nimi Chechi as we call her, has lived with us since sometime. Her mother is my father's sister. It's early morning and the women present at home are all getting her ready. Amma and Nimi Chechi's mother are busy doing her hair and my elder sister Latha is trying to get included in the bridal make-up troupe. Long strands of Mogra flowers are being pinned on Nimi's hair. The fragrance of the flowers is overpowering and it has filled the house.
Nimi Chechi finally steps out into the living room where I'm sitting on my brother Raj's lap. She is a very beautiful young lady and her bridal attire accentuates her beauty. I suspect that she's nervous, after all, it's her big day! Since she now has a government job in the Indian Railways, she has bought herself a really pretty saree. Her mother and my mother would probably have not spent that kind of money on a garment. But they were both women who had never had a job and so deep down they are proud that she is able to pamper herself. Even though it's just family members, the room is crowded. Everyone's restlessness seems to suggest that we must leave to reach the wedding hall soon.
I'm now 6 months old. I've been growing slowly, but food is still not my friend. During her pregnancy my mother was unwell and I generally can't still keep food down. But even though I'm tiny, I can grip everything with both hands and have been given some sort of rattle to hold. I delightfully drop it to the floor again and again. That's just me keeping my brothers busy. We all go down to the bottom of the apartment building where a car has been arranged for the bride to be driven in. There is no decoration on the car and everyone who can fit in gets in without asking if they should or can. I find myself in the car and am in my Amma's arms.
When we reach the wedding hall, I'm constantly carried. Like in all Indian weddings, everyone's worn their Sunday best. I know that because I get passed around into the arms of many people. I'm hardly able to keep track of what's going on. All this travel and movement between so many people have me exhausted and hungry. I'm quickly handed back to my Amma. She feeds me and holds me for sometime. I hear the 'kuravas' high-pitched, vibrating sounds made by the women during the 'muhurtam'(auspicious time) of the marriage. It's now official, my cousin is married.
There is lunch after the wedding. It is a 'sadhya' or a feast, where several kinds of special foods are served to the guests on a banana leaf. At this lunch, I get to be on the centre stage as my father places me on his lap and sits in front of a lighted lamp. He feeds me my first morsel of mashed rice mixed with ghee.This is my 'choru unnal', or rice-eating, where a baby is introduced to solid food, specifically rice, for the first time. Everyone gathers around to see me and bless me. I guess their blessings are what go on to keep me alive despite the months of weakness and not keeping down milk. From my little eyes, I find all this concern very amusing because unlike the grown ups around me, I know I'm here to stay. I can feel a sense of belonging in this large family who for some reason think of me as a special child. As the youngest chiId in my generation, I can tell that I am going to be the baby of the family for a long time to come.
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