For us in the Gulf, the minnu felt less like a heavy gold chain and more like a light promise—we used Appa's savings for a simpler one. The manthrakodi ceremony happened in my aunt's flat in Abu Dhabi, the sari's fold catching under the AC vent. The real church ceremony was back in Thrissur, yes, but the taste I remember is the cool Fanta from the Gulf flight, shared with my brother, because our big celebration was quietly paying off the loan for it.
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