(Editor’s note: This is part of a recurring series of personal narratives by Gurjevan Bansal, a staff writer who will be sharing glimpses of her own unique life experiences. Any opinions expressed are not necessarily those of The Saber staff.)

Sweet heavens above, let me see the light of day once more, for I shall see the man to whom my cousin is going to be married to. (That was my dramatic plea to god to help me get a speedy recovery so that I could attend the first day of the wedding. It’s an arranged marriage and everyone knows I’m one of gossiping aunties.)

God doesn’t exist. (I’m joking, please don’t get mad at me, christians). Even after medicine and two hours of rest, I still had a headache, a stuffy nose and half a will to live.

In my culture weddings are three days long, the first day being called Maiyan. The events of the first day are also repeated on the second day, however they are followed by Jaggo right after. So technically, I didn’t miss anything. Technically.

On the second day of the wedding, I woke up fairly early, which I shouldn’t have done because I banged my foot on a stool and proceeded to cuss it out. My dearest mother had prepared the dresses we were going to wear beforehand. They were called Sharara suits and I am not going to describe them because I have a tendency to talk badly about things. Then we had these absolutely gorgeous, magnificent, beautiful, totally elegant, made me fall going up the stairs, pants. They looked like skirts but I could actually walk with them, like one leg at a time. We also wore these really cute shoes called Punjabi Khussa. They’re colorful but they hurt to wear. Call me Ariel because it felt like glass was digging into my foot. For accessories I wore bangles. I am obsessed with them. I refused to take them off. They are mine. The color for the event was yellow, but like yellow daal (it’s a type of curry, google it. I doubt you know what it is, if you do good on you), not piss yellow, not big bird from Sesame street yellow, not my dad’s foot fungus yellow. You know?

Since this was my cousin’s wedding we obviously drove to where my cousin was living, and we sat down. Wow, very interesting. I was a little confused on what was happening, because my parents never took the time to actually inform me on my own culture. They just kind of left me to grow up in American culture, whilst expecting North Indian standards.

Gifts were given to the mother of the bride, and Wikipedia tells me that’s called Nankey-Shak. We did this while my cousin was getting ready, and we all went to the roof of their house. She sat on a wooden stool, and four women held a red cloth over her. Do I know the symbolic reference of this? No. Did I still pretend to know why and what I was doing? Yes.

Then came the part where we rubbed turmeric paste on my cousin, and I enjoyed it and hated it because the turmeric made my eczema act up. When my eczema acts up, I get really mad.

So, after my turn, all I wanted to do was rub the turmeric into my little sister’s eye because she was annoying the crap out of me.

After that we went downstairs, and did some wedding rituals that involved a white liquid and a beautiful set of bangles, that only brides can wear. This would have been great…had I not been glaring at my mom the entire time, because I was having an allergic reaction. I know my mother looks at me sometimes and wishes that she had taken some…pills… nine months before May 8, 2007.

She felt so embarrassed that she wanted me to stay home instead of attending the second event. All because I was cutely glaring at her. Who doesn’t love a puffy elmo looking creature staring at them?

We went home in order to go change for the second event. We had a whole new set of stuff to wear. I decided that I wanted to be cute so I changed my shoes to some really pretty heels. Which was a mistake. Why? Because I fell on a ramp meant for cars, and then my sister laughed at me. Thank you so much for helping me up, now I won’t come into your dreams and break your ankles. You’re so nice.

Jaggo is an event where the people attending the wedding dance and sing around the wedding home, my cousin’s home, and into the streets. Before that we had to hold this copper pot like object on our head and take pictures, I don’t know why we did it but we did. After that, we started walking outside the home and we were throwing money around like it didn’t mean anything. Not a smart financial decision, but okay. We danced in the streets.

Did I know what I was doing? NO.

Nobody knew what they were doing, they threw one finger in the air and started bouncing, and called it bhangra. It was a little dumb, but it was fun. My cousin looked beautiful, because she was extremely happy that her aunt was there with her, to celebrate her special day. It was truly beautiful.