There were no invitations sent, just a zoom link. We logged in, like we would for any other official meeting. It was our first time attending a wedding virtually. A kind of wedding, where we sit dressed in our finest clothes waist up, but remain in pajamas waist down.
Inside the bride’s ‘personal room’ on Zoom, sat her parents in one rectangular window, and her to-be-in-laws in another rectangular window. Both the parties had logged in from India to see the couple get married in a temple in Las Vegas.
The bride popped in and out of yet another rectangular window. She wore a red and blue sari, with gold designs along its border. The 2D image did little to bring out the flow of the six-yard fabric, or the shine of the gold thread. The groom came on screen next. It was time for them to exchange garlands, and the temple priest to declare them husband and wife.
The groom’s dad played traditional wedding music on his phone. The music percolated to the rest of the windows as if there was a crack on each. Some faces within these windows remained stuck, some hidden. Meanwhile, in one of the windows, the couple was wed. We realized it when a row of hasty congratulations ensued, and the windows closed one by one like bubbles dissolving on a sheet of water.
The day continued with no remnants of a celebratory occasion, but just a faint memory that two of our close friends had started a long journey together. To that, we said cheers with a bowl of banana chocolate chip cake and vanilla ice cream.