It’s the night before Alka’s wedding, and it’s also Kushbu’s birthday, so a bunch of friends and family have come together for Garba. Garba is about the dance of life, with the word itself coming from a combination of “womb” and “light.” The little earthenware lights that Alka is lighting are part of the symbolism of the dance that celebrates life.
Alka is Sonal’s niece, while Kushbu is her daughter. Thanks to Sonal for inviting us.
I am so impressed with my daughter Jessica Wise, as she did not hesitate to put on traditional Indian clothing of salwar-kameez and dupatta. Of course, we feel a bit awkward being here as we have much uncertainty about how things work. Fortunately, Jay is sticking by our sides, and to be honest, everyone here would go out of their way to make us feel welcome.
Rinku did a quick bit of henna artwork on Jessica’s hands for the dance tonight.
The dance moves in circles and often uses dandiya, the two sticks each participant is holding. While the Hindus move with grace and ease I can tell you from previous experiences Caroline feels like a donkey stumbling in a rose garden. Just when and on which step should a dandiya be tapped to the person in front of you is a bit of a mystery.
Maybe thinking of this as a kind of Gujarati circular line dancing would help; then again, Caroline doesn’t know line dancing either.
I have to give credit to Jessica’s mom, Sheila Clark, now Clemens, as it has been primarily her influence and guidance since our divorce that has helped steer Jessica into being such an open-minded and interested young woman. I hope my daughter continues to strive to be intelligent enough to grab those experiences in life that take a person beyond the ordinary and lend memories to a life that couch potatoes and the creatures of habit will never experience or enjoy. I really am proud of my daughter for not going full Texas.
Enough dance, not that I participate in any case, let’s have some cake. Kushbu is the youngest in the photo in the green dress. Her sister Hemu is on her left while her aunt Anju cuts the cake.
Kushbu’s grandmother, who I only know as Ba (the word for grandmother), offers her the first taste of the sweet. Over the next couple of minutes, those closest to her will all offer her a bite, as is tradition.
Some of Sonal’s relatives she hasn’t seen in quite a long time have all traveled to Arizona to help celebrate Alka’s wedding.
