Of Tears and Laughter

In the months and weeks before our wedding, my mother had been completely occupied with the preparations, she took up the lion’s share of responsibilities to make sure everything was perfect. While she was very happy and enthusiastic (after all it was her dream coming true), she was fully aware that it was finally time for her daughter to leave behind the cocoon in which she had grown up, to move out and flap her wings.
 
Several times during this phase I found my mother crying at some random moment and the reason was that I was leaving. On the other hand, I never cried, I never felt like crying, firstly, because I was moving just 500 meters away, secondly, this was not the first time I was leaving home, I had previously left home to complete my master’s degree in the UK, which was half the world and time zones away and lastly because my hubby- to- be had always made me feel comfortable, leaving me with no anxiety about marrying him.
 
As per Bengali customs we were to leave post lunch on the day after the wedding. We had a house full of relatives from both sides, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins. The smell of Bengali delicacies and sound of cheer filled the air. My husband’s cousins were cracking jokes and playfully asking me to cover my head like a coy bride and I was playing along. I saw my father watching me from a distance. Observing, how his little girl had transformed into a married woman.
 
Once lunch was over, it was finally time to leave behind my paternal home to start a new life as Mrs Dutta. My father-in-law, a stickler for time was glancing at his watch. I could feel the lump in my throat growing at the same pace my family gathered in the drawing room. Soon, we realized that the groom was missing and everyone started looking for him. I took the opportunity to leave the room and go to my room.
 
I was surprised to find my husband there, sitting with his laptop in front of him. I told him that everyone was looking for him and that it was time. At that moment, I seemed to be more eager to leave my house than him. He turned around and asked me about wi-fi connections and internet connectivity in return. He had to send something urgent to his boss in office and had been unable to connect to the internet. He was tensed. I was amused.
 
Finally, he made it to the front room and my family was saying good bye to me and blessing us. My mother showed extraordinary strength and held back her tears but I could not hold back mine. The moment of my departure had arrived, I was leaving the home I had grown up in, my parents were parting with a part of their heart, their only child who they had loved and nurtured for over two decades.
 
I was leaving behind everyone and everything that was familiar to me, taking a leap of faith, taking up new responsibilities, new roles, new relationships and a new surname. As I was walking out the door, my father whispered into my ear, “Do us proud like you always have.” It was definitely a heavy moment for me, tears rolling down silently.
 
Two of my cousin sisters (around 10 years of age at that time) were coming along with me, to give me company. As we sat in the car and it started moving, I was trying to regain my composure, explaining to myself that I was still going to stay close-by. My little sisters continued to cry softly but audibly.
 
My husband who had been a silent spectator all along was surely feeling bad and gently asked my sisters to stop crying since watching them cry would make me feel worse. The moment he dropped those words, it seemed as if the laws of Physics had made themselves applicable there. My baby sisters gave an equal and opposite reaction, they started crying even more loudly.
 
I burst out laughing although my eyes were still wet. Never before had I gone from tears to laughter so quickly, it was a first, but not the last. I guess somewhere between the wedding vows, my hubby made a promise to make me laugh, always, even when I cried.