In Kerala, our Cochini Jewish weddings blended local Malabari customs with ancient Judeo-Spanish rituals, unseen anywhere else. We had the mehndi ceremony like our neighbours, but the bride sat beneath a *thaliyola*, a canopy of fresh, turmeric-stained palm leaves, as we sang Ladino songs from our exile in Spain. The obvious answer is to lump all Indian Jewish communities together, but our *minhag* is distinct from the Bene Israel of Mumbai or the Baghdadi Jews of Calcutta. I remember my aunt’s wedding in Ernakulam, the air smelling of jasmine and coconut oil, where the *ketubah* was read in Judeo-Malayalam, a language that itself is a ceremony of survival.
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