There we were, a group of 30 something year olds, having our girlie time, enjoying a glass of wine and making small talk, giggling nineteen to a dozen – when someone said it.

“I buy a little gold every year. You know, for our daughter’s wedding.”

The little girl in question is an unsuspecting 5 year old. I suddenly had an image from the past of my mother and her mother doing the same. Only, we aren’t our mothers. And our daughters are not us. Before I could form a coherent reply or delve into this thought, another friend came up with the following gem.

“Oh, my God, whatever for? The next generation of girls will not need gold – we barely wear the gold that we got, in any case. And I think it’s better to invest in their higher studies. They will get married on their with their own hard earned money, I am sure.”

Everyone seemed to agree with the thought and talk quickly veered to various options for investment. We also talked about an infamous wedding of a business baron’s daughter that had sent the collective social media conscience into a tizz at the atrocious display of wealth – and rightly so. Later, as I walked home, my head heavy with financial terms (some of which I had heard for the very first time), I realised that I do not entirely agree with the thought of not saving up for the daughter’s wedding. And here’s why I started to buy some jewellery and finery every year, from the day my daughter was born. It just took this one question in my head: “what if she wants that big fat Indian wedding?”

Am I going to stop her by saying it is absolutely unnecessary to have an over the top display of what will go into prized photo albums as the best day of her life? Am I going to give her a lecture of how she should want to celebrate her big day in a more judicious manner rather than spending on herself? Am I going to be the one who will tell her how she should choose to spend the happiest day of her life? Am I going to be the one who will tell her she does not deserve to reach out for those special things to commemorate that day, and then teach her to think about herself when she tries to leave her career to have a baby? Am I going to be the inner voice that confuses the hell out of her when she chooses not to put herself first – as she very rightly must? And most importantly, am I going to be the one who will say, “this is not as important”?

No. I will not. Chances are that she might want a simple wedding like I did. Chances are that she might go through wedding magazines and centre piece photos and wonder why she did not enjoy a more fancy wedding – like I still do. Chances are she will have a sizable bank balance by then to afford the wedding and the building of a life that happens thereafter. Chances are that a little financial help from my side might make the wedding a little more special for her.

So, I am taking a chance and saving up for her wedding as well as her higher studies. Because chances are, she will thank me in the long run as I teach her make her dreams come true, and say yes to the luxury of having dreams in the first place.

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