Gaurav & Toni

Toni got ready in a bright room full of her favorite people, and we caught her laughing into a round woven mirror while her mother watched over her shoulder and a friend stole a picture on her phone. A little later she stepped onto the balcony in ivory and gold, an orange dupatta pinned over her hair, a maang tikka on her brow, mehndi winding across her hands on the rail while the coast stretched out pale and hazy far below. It was the fourth of August, and the light already carried that soft white heat Southern California saves for the middle of summer.

Gaurav arrived the way a groom should, behind a white horse dressed in brocade, tassels, and tiny mirrors, with a row of palms standing at attention against a hard blue sky. The ceremony was held outdoors in the resort courtyard beneath a canopy of blush drapery, the hotel tower rising behind rows of guests in saris, suits, and scarlet turbans. Toni came down a petal strewn aisle grinning the whole way, and once the jaimala garlands of red and white carnations had been traded, she kept looking up at him like she could not quite believe her luck.

When the sun dropped, the ballroom turned blue and violet and the second act began, Toni now in red and gold with a deep blue dupatta at the head table, both of them laughing through the toasts behind roses and scattered petals. Then the floor took over. Parents danced with their arms flung wide, the room folded into clapping circles, and before the night was through Gaurav was up on his friends' shoulders with one hand pointed at the ceiling, which is exactly where that day belonged.