An American Dialogue

An American Dialogue

The sprightly bride-to-be entered the coffee shop accompanied by her parents. She ordered a strong blend from El Indio, Tarrazu. The mother got a nutty blend from Costa Rica and the father a robust flavor from Nariño, Colombia. They spotted the wedding planner seated in a booth. The father scooted next to her and sat facing the mother. The bride-to-be sat next to her mother.

After the usual chitchat the mother said, “We want the ceremony to be eclectic.”

“We could do something like a white canopy, if you like–the way they do in Jewish weddings, and decorate the poles with flower garlands,” the planner said as she jotted notes on a yellow lined writing pad.

“Yes, yes! I have seen it in pictures, and I like it very much.” The bride-to-be chimed. She glanced over her right shoulder and then in front and saw her parents nodding in agreement.

“And that would go well with the rose and marigold vyug on the floor,” the mother suggested. She wanted her daughter’s marriage ceremony to include at least a few traditional rituals. Some thirty plus years ago, her own marriage was performed in the valley of Kashmir according to Brahmin traditions. “And the vyug design would match very well with Posh Puza—the flower shower on the newly weds.”

“Poush Pujja made the guests cry at your older daughter’s wedding. Even the groom’s family was apparently touched… you know, them being Christian and all…. It was so beautiful,” said the wedding planner, “I cried like a baby.”

“What else? What else?” She asked. The mother and the daughter looked at each other and started to speak in Kashmiri. The father turned to the planner, “Before we go ahead with all the details why don’t you tell me how much it is going to cost me?” He asked.

“I will write this up line by line. I will include the florist, the musicians, the videographer, photographer, hotel rooms, caterers and all other details. You can delete the things you don’t want to do.”

“We don’t want to delete any of the ceremonies we did at our older daughter’s wedding, no! Perhaps even add some more.” The mother interrupted and glanced sideways at her husband.

“Can we put a stop to this somewhere? Let’s keep as many rituals as the previous wedding. That’s it! There seems no end to this.” The father said moving uneasily on his seat. His wife stared hard at him.

“Daadyyy…! Let her write down all the things we are discussing, and then you can delete the ones you won’t pay for.”

“And then we’ll consider your deletions—two against one, Daddy.” The planner kidded.

“There is no end to this spending.” He mumbled to himself.

“Oh no, something I completely forgot!” The daughter said.

“What?”

“We want to find someone who can recite from the Quran.”

“Quran?” The planner’s pencil dropped on the pad.

“Yes, my fiancée is a Muslim.”

Wide eyed, the planner repeated, “A Muslim! A Muslim fiancée!” She glanced at the bride-to-be and then quickly looked into the eyes of the mother and then the father. Their expressions did not change. She picked up her pencil and started to scribble something on the pad.

She looked up and asked, “Where is the groom from?”

“Seychelles.” The bride-to-be said.

“This is interesting—a Hindu family, one daughter married to a Christian, another daughter is marrying a Muslim… very interesting…. I don’t know if I can find someone…. Usually only Imams recite shuras… I think… from Quran.” The planner mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter to us. We are interested in Arabic recitation. We want our guests to hear lyrical sounds of shuras in Arabic.” The mother said.

“Anyone can recite, it doesn’t have to be an Imam,” said the daughter, “Do you know someone?”

While tapping with her pencil on the pad the planner said, “You know I’m Jewish.”

“Of course we know you’re Jewish.” The mother said.

The daughter and the father nodded.

“But can you find an Arabic speaking reciter?” the father asked.

“Have you met her fiancée’s parent’s yet?” The planner had something else on her mind.

“Why do you ask?” The father said.

“Because Seychelles sounds like a made up country,” she chuckled nervously, “We need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know sometimes I’m the one who ends up introducing the parents of the bride to the groom’s. I prefer if you have met before.”

“Yes, yes we have met, we have met them twice. They often visit their son in New York and they have visited us in Boston.”

“That’s a re…uh…that’s good!” There was an awkward silence for a minute. Then the planner seemed re-energized, “Wait till my liberal husband hears this, he is going to get a kick out of this matrimony! Okay, moving on… I’ll try to find a reciter.”