It is a time of immense happiness.

Our brother is coming back home from Canada for a quick visit. He has been away for four years pursuing a Master’s Program and internship. Even though we are far apart, a few letters and photos, keep us connected. His earlier messages depict the natural beauty of Halifax and the surrounding areas. He has developed a few friendships and anticipates the snowy season and winter sports. His correspondence with Munna is close to her heart. He is sure she will delight in all its offerings when she arrives for higher studies.

At the airport, we wait for Sudhir’s flight. Mom didn’t come with us. On the drive here, Bangalore reveals itself with recent changes in my eyes. The bright sunshine and gentle breeze give off a distinct vibe. We pass the buildings on Mahatma Gandhi Road and the Three Aces restaurant where Sudhir and I loved to go. I am sure he remembers it. The newer Blue Fox. I chalk up a reminder to bring him here. People crowd the new ballpark. The latest developments and neighborhoods have transformed the area beyond downtown, and the fields and vineyards he once knew have been erased.

The airport in Bangalore reflects the city’s cosmopolitan progress while still keeping its quaint charm. As the plane lands, passengers disembark, and our eyes are fixed on the open doorway. When Sudhir appears, we spot him. Our brother is home at last, and the years of separation vanish. Although his walk is more confident, his distinctive swaying gait remains unmistakable. His hair, longer and styled like the Beatles, looks attractive. He is scanning the crowd and sees our frantic waving and heads our way, arms held out to gather all close. I look at Daddy lingering at the edge of our warm embrace. Our dad is smiling and swallowing hard. A tear-stained Sudhir disengages from the family and walks over to him for a hug.

He observes our group during the drive home, and notices the changes in Uma and Juji, along with Bangalore’s transformation, and recounts uneventful moments from his flight. During his stay in New York, he had caught a Broadway musical, Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen from Verona. The dazzling stage effects remained with him. He continues to gaze at Munna, assuring her of Canada’s undeniable appeal. The exact words she desires! She has returned from college after one semester, and is reluctant to return. Instead, she is enticed by the allure of everything Sudhir promises and has ever desired.

Mummy prepared herself at home, striving for calmness and composure upon her son’s arrival. But all her resolve broke down. They held on to each other, sobbing, kissing, and weeping. Her son kept his promise and said, “I am back.”

We sit down for lunch. Sudhir’s eyes wander, taking in the familiar room and its decoration. Our discussion shifts to his return flight, the brief layover in Paris, and an encounter with a scalper searching for naïve individuals. He has changed little, except for his Beatles-inspired haircut. The person who found joy in narrating tales, with lively expressions and gestures, is still there. To everyone’s surprise, the punch-line has no connection to outwitting the ticket tout. Sudhir looks at Daddy sideways and comments about a skilled peddler at the table. Mummy and I exchange glances with Sudhir. With surprised looks on their faces, Munna and Juji, are wondering what we are talking about. While our dad laughs heartily, our brother interjects, “Later, later.”

Mrs. Bajaj, Mummy’s good friend, hears that the only son has been home for a few days. She is eager for Sudhir to meet a young architect from Madras. He agrees, and dinner at the Bajaj’s place is set up for the following evening.

Sudhir and Savita meet and astound all with their incessant conversations. They chat and uncover familiar friends from Sudhir’s student years without realizing it. They share common interests, such as traveling, exploring new places, and enjoying music and dance. Despite being at the same events, they never crossed paths in Madras.

Their conversation continues during dinner, which is served and consumed. The instant connection between the two takes everyone by surprise. They are completely unaware of anyone else around them.

The Bajaj’s invitation is reciprocated with another meeting–tea and snacks at our home. In jest and private, Sudhir makes a charming comment about Savita’s overlapping molar, which is visible when she smiles. A smiling mummy replies-it protects from the evil eye. The visitors leave the next day, and head back to Madras. Mrs. Bajaj, enjoying her role as the matchmaker, conveys our proposal for the match. We await a response.

Sudhir had planned a brief trip to the city of Madras to visit his old school and reconnect with friends. He flies in the next day and also stops by Savita’s. On pins and needles, we waited for his return. Juji, impatient as ever, dials the airport and pages him. He reports an enjoyable day visiting buddies and some professors. In addition, he had called Savita and received an invitation to come over. The meeting once again solidified their conviction and reaffirmed their belief they are soulmates.

A full twenty-four hours go by, and we  are still awaiting a call accepting our proposal. Each time the telephone rings, we answer it, hoping it is from Madras. Another day passes the same way. Mummy is feeling sad and down. Each passing hour brings Sudhir closer to his return to Canada, and our moments together are getting scarce. The phone rings again and Juji answers it. Savita’s cousin is calling to inquire about when Sudhir leaves for Canada. In a matter of moments, we learn about the intense debate.

The parents are nervous and hesitant-it is too hasty, and wedding preparations take months. Savita’s cousins fully support organizing a marriage ceremony in only twenty-four hours. Other friends and relatives are eager to help with the various tasks involved. The arguments are intense. You can’t afford to miss this incredible pairing. His college buddies in the area know him as a nice guy. Savita has agreed to the match, and it is not to be wasted. Another ring, and an official yes.

How soon can we reach Madras? If we leave in the morning, we could arrive by early afternoon. Fantastic! Jaidev Ji (Satdev Ji’s younger brother) officiates the ceremony the next day. Sudhir and Savita, the beautiful, talented couple, are hours away from tying the knot. Oh, happy, happy times!

Mummy is thinking ahead of the wedding after we return to Sarasota. A reception for our local friends is a must. Munna, Juji, Uma, and I make a list and call everyone we can think of. The Woodlands Hotel is happy to accommodate a large crowd for a High Tea. Party preparations and phone invites are complete before the long drive to Madras. The welcome is a blur of cheerful faces, fragrant flowers, hugs and laughter. Dinner follows. Sudhir, Savita, and their joyful entourage head to the beach.

We see her again, radiant, resplendent, and glowing, in her bridal attire. Shy and smiling, she greets Mummy and Daddy and sits besides Sudhir wearing a magnificent sehra (groom’s marriage headdress). The groom has sent flowers to his future wife, along with a note promising to join her soon. Words made good now!

The wedding rituals and festivities are a splendid affair. These spill over into a breakfast banquet the next morning. Murakh Mandali (Congregation of Fools), a local club focused on the lighter side of life, hosts the gathering. Satdev Ji and Jaidev Ji are both members. The large assembly of family and friends, give their formal blessings to the just married duo. Our minds are set on the drive back to Bangalore and arranging a reception there. Daddy is called upon to say a few words.

Dad talks while Mom looks on proudly, clinging to his every word. Sudhir and Savita, fatigued but smiling, are also attentive. He speaks about a couple of remarkable individuals coming together, growing, appreciating, and nurturing a deep connection. That could be the essence of love. A tale Daddy tells of two classmates, one taking the blame for the other’s prank. A single person is punished with after-school detention, while the other lingers outside, remorseful and regretful for not confessing to letting down a friend. Maybe lacking the courage to do so.

The story, simple in content, but delivered impromptu and flawlessly, seems to resonate with many in the hall. A few friends comment on Daddy’s romantic nature. Daddy’s love and pride for his daughter-in-law matches that for his son.

The reception concludes, and we go to the bride’s parents’ home. Mummy receives a present from Savita’s mother, who places a gold necklace around Mummy’s neck. Sudhir’s birthday is coming, and he has a gift: a couple of silver deepams (oil lamps) nestling in a satin-lined box. A steady stream of relatives greets the newlyweds and Sudhir listens as Savita introduces them. Daddy is engaged elsewhere when the music starts to play. It is infectious with the clapping and singing. Satdev Ji and Dad get pulled to the floor. The wedded duo also joins in. I take Polaroid photos, and pass these around to be viewed which leads to lots of laughter.

I turned to see Mummy enjoying watching the dancers along with the other ladies. Daddy is on a fast whirl by a youngster. I catch Dad to slow him down. He had a minor heart attack a couple of years ago.

The time to depart arrives and emotions are tangled. Satdev Ji breaks down. The enormity of his daughter’s departure from her childhood home is overwhelming. Others share the moment with teary eyes. Sudhir clutches his bride, who is now weeping. Some of the sindoor (red powder worn in the hair parting) smudges onto his cheek, making the crowd smile.

With the goodbyes behind us, we head back home to Bangalore.

A couple of Savita’s cousins, Jaidev Ji’s sons, are coming for the reception. Our four-car convoy travels west with the sun amidst shifting colors. A soothing breeze caresses the shimmering paddy fields. Coconut trees sway gracefully, as the sturdy road beneath takes us closer to our destination. After a brief break in a green clearing and a light repast, we continue our journey refreshed.

The Woodlands host the reception two days later. Juji is smiling all evening. Her delight stems from Savita’s staying in Bangalore to await her visa. Every one of our friends showed up. Congratulations and felicitations sound and resound all around. Mrs. Sirsi, joining in Mummy’s joy, repeats her words of reassurance: “I told you not to worry. His bride, awaited him, garland in hand.”

The time for Sudhir to return to Canada approaches fast as the days and hours pass. Savita plans to travel with him to Bombay and see him off. The luggage is packed, and ready to leave for the airport. My gaze falls upon them, side by side. A stunning couple, youthful, gorgeous, and smitten with one another. Sudhir observes every conversation happening around him. He includes his bride in the exchange by sharing details here and there. Despite weariness, she remains radiant, though quiet. She smiles, savoring her husband’s attentiveness throughout the dialog. Her hair, unbraided and cascading below her waist, complements the elegance of her trousseau sari.

On the drive back home, pitch-dark thunderheads appear on the western horizon. Blue skies take on an ominous aura. I shudder. A fear grips my mind that I cannot shake off. It clings and will not leave.