This photo was taken on my parent’s first wedding anniversary. This was always a fascinating item for me for several reasons: that it is black and white; that my mom was a very young bride; and that Dad looked so young (being the youngest of the four, as far back as I could recall Dad always had grey hairs, although he was always very young at heart).
But most important of all is probably the bindi on my mother’s forehead, a traditional item of decor for married Hindu women. I went through a phase of selectively denouncing things that I could have culturally and religiously inherited. Although I did not disagree with everything, I disagreed with most.
And the bindi was one such item that I had decided was not for me and hence never wore it. Not on my wedding day, nor after that.
My resentment towards this culture is mostly based on the fact that, while married Hindu women whose husbands are alive are encouraged to beautify themselves, a Hindu widow is not permitted anything. Not even to wear bright colours. To my great relief, this culture is dying.
Nevertheless when my rebellious self was heading west, I carried this photograph with me and it has always been of great sentimental value.
Despite the fact that my parents enjoyed a great relationship, when I look at this photo I feel that there is a slight hesitation on my mother’s part to smile freely. When I asked her why so , she said that was the broadest smile she could muster in front of a cameraman: her mother-in-law would not have approved of anything broader.
With Mom in her 70s and Dad passing away in 2006, this photo has become even more precious to me.
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