As I stand here in the middle of the bounce floor at my br other(a)s wedding, listening to the very Punjabi bhangra music make noise on the wall speakers, I walk the fine grade amongst creation conservative Indian - those of Ivy confederation chemical engineering PhDs, of having no less than 50 cousins, of consumption every(prenominal) spare moment in life with family - and being a Westerner, coolly expressing my ever-apparent condescending attitude towards those of the East, looking in disgust at the seemingly uncouth Indian parents who savour their children at every chance. I have been on this enclosure my whole life, torn between two cultures - the Indian, and the American. The main differences between the two lie in the attitudes towards family, which eventually pervade every other aspect of their respective cultures.
In India, life revolves around family, and family is life. each festive dates - whether they are birthdays, religious holidays, or any other cause for celebration - are spent with family. Family forms the core of ones essence, it provides potential in times of need, and there is always, always, always someone to palaver to - simply because there are so many relatives with you at any given time.
Religious holidays are the greatest time of celebrations. Holi, the feast of color, is without a doubt the most enthusiastically celebrated of these.
In Bombay, where most of my family lives, every Holy we would invite hundreds (I am not exaggerating here) relatives to our suburban bungalow for the celebration. Aunts, uncles, cousins, mothers-in-law (of which there are plenty due(p) to the ready supply of siblings), grandparents, nieces, nephews - anyone who had even the most remote declension connection to the Dheer clan would join in. Going to the local merchandise to buy colored powder, we took buckets...
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