‘Birthdays are for families, anniversaries are for couples.”
This gem, doled out to me by a friend with whom I have lost touch, owes its recall value to its sheer bizarreness – it was presented to me a few weeks before my wedding, 10 years ago.
Coming from a fellow desi, the concept of wedding anniversaries being anything other than a chance to get the family together was very strange indeed – especially from someone like her, who had spent her first anniversary at what was pretty much a recreation of her wedding day a year earlier: same guests, same clothes, same pretty much everything.
That’s just how we desis do it. We are all one huge, extended family and everyone shows up to celebrate everything together, from birthdays to promotions. Anniversaries are no different.
I would have taken it for granted that my first anniversary would be celebrated desi style, with a big party for all the aunts and uncles and cousins twice-removed, had it not been for my friend’s sage words. But thanks to her, I decided that the day was better suited for a quiet celebration involving just me and my husband of one year.
Fast forward nine years, when it came time for the landmark 10th anniversary and hints were being dropped by many, many people about what a special occasion this was going to be and how it called for a big celebration.
Someone in the family had just celebrated a landmark anniversary with an honest-to-goodness “rewedding”, with all the family in attendance and so the pressure was on me to do something similar.
It sounded pretty tempting. Having married in the pre-Pinterest days, back when I had no idea about floral centrepieces and wedding photography, this was my chance to have a picture-perfect (or Pinterest-perfect) wedding.
There was just one small catch: I didn’t want the people. I wanted just the bride and the groom.
And so tickets were bought for the Maldives, rooms booked in a stunning resort and arrangements made for a very private renewal of vows. Even as my husband and I flew to the gorgeous archipelago, hurt feelings were being shared by the extended family. They weren’t upset. They were just confused. What was the meaning of going so far away on an occasion that calls for all our loved ones to get together and celebrate with us?
As I walked along the beach, barefoot in a white wedding gown (as opposed to the traditional red outfit I wore at my actual wedding 10 years ago), with a Maldivian troupe beating drums and showering me with petals, I wasn’t worried about any of that.
With the turquoise waters in front of me, a clear blue sky overhead, the wind in my hair, the sun in my eyes and the sand between my toes, reaffirming the “I do” was best done without the distraction of family and friends.
We desis may have perfected the art of wedding celebrations, but we definitely need to work on our anniversaries.
The writer is an honest-to-goodness desi living in Dubai
