1
THE JOY OF ACCEPTING EACH OTHER
Inspired by an Indian engagement party,
Saturday, May 15th, 1999
By Ninie G. Syarikin
Guests were already streaming in
with their cheerful faces,
gleeful voices
parades of smiles,
illustrated by
beautiful neatly-pleated saris
with the ends charmingly resting
on the women’s shoulders
in a mosaic of colors of
rainbows, forests, mountains,
deserts, oceans, prairies,
sunrises, sunsets,
and orchards.
The women appeared so merry
with the opportunity of showing off
their pretty saris
which had been kept deep
most of the time
in their closed closets.
Amidst that display of splendor and fragrance,
I heard everyone greeting
each other good-naturedly:
“Welcome!
I’m glad you both could make it.”
“Oh, the pleasure is ours.
Thank you for inviting us.”
“Hello, my name is Mantu,
may I know your name?”
“Sure, I am Lakshmi,
nice to meet you.”
“Are you from Samit’s side,
or Ruby’s side?”
“Oh, from Samit’s side;
we work at the same office.
How about you?”
“I go to school with Ruby.”
And, amidst those greetings
and small talk,
I saw two most happy faces,
smiling freely to each of the guests.
However, I noticed,
there were brief moments,
when the two seemed engrossed
in each other,
speaking through eyes,
without words,
oblivious to their surrounding
as if this whole huge world
belonged only to them,
and that the other creatures
were merely here to stay temporarily!
Samit and Ruby.
The pair of young doves
were preparing to leave
the comfort of their parents’ nests
to embark on their own journey.
Their wings might still be weak and
inexperienced to navigate their flight,
but they were accepting each other,
and their hearts were stoically united
to explore the sky
and pierce through the clouds
to reach for the moon and stars.
“Hello, everyone,” I suddenly heard
the host of the party
calling everybody’s attention.
“My name is Mithu,
I am the spokesperson of the family.
I’d like to welcome you all
to our family’s event.
Now the food is served.
Please help yourself, and enjoy!”
And, the moment the word ‘food’
was announced,
everyone was willingly stopping
or slowing their conversation.
No doubt,
that word attracted everybody,
and, like military personnel,
I noticed, they were queuing up
in a disciplined manner.
Oh, how nice to see those saris
falling so gracefully,
sweeping the floor,
displaying in a line
with the colors complementing
the hues and aromas of the cuisine:
Opaque Beryani rice,
accented with whole cashew nuts
and sliced almonds,
yellow lamb curry with cut potatoes,
pinkish tandoori chicken,
red tomato-pasted mutton,
mixed with green African okras.
And for those vegetarian guests,
competitively delicious non-meat dishes
were equally tempting:
Light brown and thick lentil soup,
sauted green kale with beige young corns,
snow peas cooked with
cubes of home-made cheese,
which I craved,
a big bowl of salad of orange baby carrots,
crimson radish, purple cabbage,
with fresh spinach,
yellow corn cakes and ......
typical Indian yogurt,
sprinkled with herbs,
for gravy.
That rainbow of cuisine was enhanced by
the decoration of slices of lemon,
here and there.
Everyone seemed to savor
the splendor of tastes,
while exchanging nice words
and small stories occasionally.
The members of the host family
didn’t fail to inspect around,
making sure, graciously:
“Is everything all right?”
To which every guest nodded,
and gratefully acknowledged:
“Oh, everything is perfect.”
The guests were enjoying the desserts of
rice-coconut porridge and mango ice cream,
when the host once more called out:
“May I have your attention, please?”
and was immediately given a hush.
“I’d like to use this opportunity
to welcome Sam into our family.
Now, I have a little brother
who I can teach to play soccer.”
Everybody gave a little laugh,
and smiles suddenly became infectious
throughout the room.
Since that moment,
an aura of joy inevitably hung in the air.
I saw several older women
began clapping their hands festively
into a certain rhythm
and reciting improvised poetry
in Bengali language,
which I failed to understand, yet,
could grasp its connotation, nevertheless,
through their lively facial expressions,
hand gestures, and playful voices.
Apparently they were exchanging
verses of human union.
Sometimes I heard cheerful notes,
no doubt, it was a celebration of love;
but other times,
I noted melancholic melodies.
Were they actually lamenting
their long lost love,
broken promises or sorrows,
because of their lovers’ death?
Or other tragedies?
Whatever they were about,
my heart swelled with emotion
swinging from one feeling to another,
grateful that they were entertaining me,
who myself had my own pipe dream
that I didn’t know
if I could put into a reality,
or if I was even able to creep along
the tunnel to reach the light
and make my dream come true.
As time wore on, though,
it no longer mattered
what songs were sung,
or, if joy and sorrow intermingled,
since both exist side by side in love,
simultaneously.
A lady in pink
with the full moon face
with dimples on her cheeks
with a chain of pink carnations on her hair,
took the floor and performed her dance.
And she sang and sang,
and she danced and danced.
She was swinging her arms back and forth,
with her right hand holding a lilac handkerchief
and frequently tossing it in the air;
so carefree to her heart’s desire,
as if no audience existed!
Wahai!
Whatever was she celebrating,
she touched my lonely heart,
to the core!
Was she remembering
her young days
when she used to swirl and twirl and whirl
in the prairie
chanting with the wind?
Was she recalling
her youthful vigor
when she used to hop and run
in the bushes,
racing with birds
snatching berries?
Whatever were her past memories,
no doubt, she had a treasured childhood
that she was now sharing generously
with everyone,
that the room felt
full of blooms, blossoms, balloons,
bees, butterflies,
hibiscus, hummingbirds,
sun flowers, sun beams,
and canaries.
The lady in pink
was still dancing merrily,
when, to everyone’s astonishment,
abruptly ceased moving,
and, as though just arriving from another world,
she looked around,
bewildered, in a fleeting second,
but came back to herself at once,
and instantly blushed.
Her rosy cheeks shyly turned to crimson,
then she flashed her million-dollar smile
and swiftly returned to her seat.
The audience was bewitched
for an eternity,
then clapped and clapped their hands
delightedly and appreciatively.
I was observing in wonder,
as if the whole thing
happened in a wink.
Then the familiar voice was heard again
throughout the room:
“Ladies and Gentlemen,
may I have your attention, again, please?”
And the attention was duly given.
“Today we are also celebrating
our parents’ 40th wedding anniversary.”
Now, this was something
old-fashioned and rare
in this fast-paced modern world.
The room was suddenly filled
with renewed unusual energy.
The couple’s three children,
amidst the admiring murmur and mumble
of the guests, one by one,
shared the love memories
and stories of their growing up
with their parents.
The son, the eldest,
seemed convincing in his role
as the protector of the family.
I noticed he had a stalwart posture
with a macho straight moustache
and a broad smile.
The spokesperson,
a young woman of intelligent eyes,
very smartly took her role
as the caretaker of the family.
And, the future bride,
the pet of the family,
graced the room,
with her strength shining through
and warm grin to everyone.
Among those faces,
two belonged to the leading characters
of the play on the stage.
They seemed so serene, humble, and content.
How they have accepted each other
over the years,
molded into a united front,
quietly doing their parts
in building the pillars of society.
A shy and kind smile she gave
when I congratulated her;
and an attentive listening ear
when I came to him.
I was fully occupied with
digesting the myriad of events, mentally,
- engagement – marriage – anniversary –
creeping the tunnel of the pipe dream –
unfulfilled dream – or dream come true –
all human needs for rites and rituals,
when I heard waves and waves of ovation.
Slowly I rose to my feet,
and joined the celebration and joy
of accepting each other.
NGS
Washington, DC, June 8, 1999
Footnote:
Wahai: An exclamation of wonder in Indonesian language, both for happy and
sad feelings, equivalent with 'oh,' 'lo' or 'hi,' used to show surprise or call
attention to something or someone.