Shally walked out of her bedroom and down the stairs of her family’s home – the home she had lived in for most of her life. I watched her from outside the front door and knew that something was up. All morning, she had been a bundle of joy, relaxed, friendly and so full of conversation. But now, she looked like a totally different woman. She stood, holding her sari in her hand trying to compose herself but I could see she was fighting a losing battle. She had one last act to complete before she would forever leave this household. One last act before her mother and father would no longer be her guardians. One last act before she was to be a married woman. She walked to the door, tears in her eyes and grabbed the rice that was offered to her and threw it over her shoulders onto the sari that her mother was holding up behind her. The tears symbolised sadness to a part of Shally’s life that was now finished, but also happiness about the life that she was just about to start. It was a beautiful moment to share in and all I could think of was that this must be the most exhilarating (and perhaps most terrifying) experience in Shally’s life. I walked over to her as she climbed into the car, smiled at her and said that she was doing wonderfully and that I would see her at her wedding. She smiled, said thank you, shut the door and we drove to see her get married to the love of her life, Rahoul.