Indian Traditions

Two years ago, I made a mistake that still makes me cringe. My close friend Meena’s mother was celebrating her 60th birthday. A proper, traditional celebration—130 guests, full lunch, live bhajan singing, the works. I helped Meena plan the return gifts. We decided on motichoor ladoos from a well-known local halwai. Fresh, ghee-laden, beautifully boxed, […]

My neighbor Ramesh bhai moved into his new flat in our building last November. Beautiful 3BHK, four years of savings, the whole family flying in from Kanpur for the ceremony. We’re close enough that I was invited for the actual Griha Pravesh puja—not just the party after. As guests started arriving with gifts, I started

My cousin Sonal’s Mehendi ceremony was the evening before her wedding. Fifty women crowded our rooftop in Dadri—strings of marigold lights, thick smell of mehendi paste, Bollywood songs playing from a Bluetooth speaker balanced on a plastic chair. Every auntie had an opinion about the design. Every dadi had a story about her own Mehendi

Every year on Ashtami or Navami, my mother would wake me up at 5 AM with that familiar announcement: “Kanjak aa rahi hain, taiyaar ho jao.” Within two hours, our home would transform. The floor freshly mopped, marigold petals at the entrance, a small wooden chowki covered in red cloth, diyas lit, and the smell

My sister-in-law’s Godh Bharai ceremony last April remains one of my favorite family memories. We’re from a small town in Uttar Pradesh, so we followed the classic North Indian tradition—red chunari draped over the expectant mother, conch shells blowing during aarti, the whole family gathered in our courtyard. Laughter, teasing, blessings everywhere. As guests started

I still remember my first real encounter with this tradition. We were at my cousin Ravi’s wedding reception in Lucknow—beautiful mandap, amazing Rajasthani food, filmi music blaring. As the night wound down and guests started heading out, there was a dedicated return gift counter. Each guest got a neat packet—usually almonds or motichoor ladoos. But

My first South Indian wedding was my cousin Priya’s in 2018. As guests started leaving, small trays appeared with neat little packets—betel leaves, nuts, turmeric powder, kumkum, sometimes a coin or flowers. Everyone took one politely, but I had no idea what it was called or why it mattered. Turns out it was Thamboolam (also spelled Tambulam),