OUR STORY
We met on Hinge. Our first date was six hours long in a blizzard. The snow fell and we talked and somewhere in those hours we both knew: this was it. We would not look back.
The life we've built together is made of small but meaningful things. We've traveled to understand that the world is both vast and within reach. We've been to concerts and danced on the street and in our kitchen at midnight, learning that the best part of love is finding someone who makes you remember what it felt like to be unapologetically playful. We held our friend's newborn and felt the terror and wonder of how fragile and inevitable life is. We've helped each other through the long hours. Burhan through campaigns and legislation, Vijeta through the years of her PhD. We learned early that you don't succeed alone. You succeed because someone believes in you when you've stopped believing in yourself.
But the life, the one we want to tell you about, is the one we've made in our home in Cambridge.
Our house is ordinary from the outside. Inside, it holds more joy than seems possible. Every March, we host a Pi Day party. The first year, seventy-five people came. Then the function grew exponentially. People spill from the living room into the kitchen, onto the streets even when it's cold, eating pie and talking until late because no one wants to leave. Each year the circle grows. Not because we're trying to collect people, but because this is what happens when you make a home that welcomes: it expands to hold everyone who needs it.
For us, immigrants, people who left places where everyone knew our families, this matters more than we can say. Cambridge has become ours in that every walk is interrupted by a familiar face. Every errand becomes a conversation. The probability of running into someone we know on any given walk approaches 1. The city knows us now. And we know it.
Our friends are everywhere. We've traveled with them, stood beside them at their weddings, been married by them. The community we've found here isn't separate from our love for each other. We built this together: this home, this life where the boundaries between private and communal dissolve until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
And now we want to invite you into it.
All of you. The friends from that first year, the ones we've found since, the family who crossed oceans, the thousand people we hope will come dance with us. We want you to see what we've made here. The home where we laugh and stay up too late. The community that held us when we needed holding. The life we built by refusing to accept that borders, geographic, social, historical, have to mean separation.
Come walk these streets with us. Watch how many times we stop, how many people we greet, how a simple walk becomes a series of reunions. This is what we want to share: our wedding, this whole life, this belonging we've found in each other and then discovered we could extend outward, infinitely. Two bodies orbiting a shared center of gravity, each making the other more luminous, pulling everything around us into something larger than we could be alone.
ITINERARY
"Yes, We Thought of That" Section
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Is there parking available? Yes, at MIT Endicott House.
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What should I wear to each event? Whatever makes you feel like your best self. We have zero color or style restrictions. Actually, we're actively pro-color because (a) we love it and (b) South Asian wedding, hello. Show up in a summer dress, a pantsuit, a ball gown, that outfit you've been looking for an excuse to wear. The only rule is that you feel good in it. If you want to wear a south-Asian outfit, check out KYNAH.
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Will there be food? Food, snacks, and drinks at every event except the City-Wide Dance Party (still figuring out permits with the city).
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Can you accommodate dietary restrictions? Absolutely. Tell us your allergies and we'll make sure you're fed well.
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Are kids welcome? YES. We love kids. Bring them. Let them run around. They'll probably have more energy than us by the end of the night anyway.
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Can I come to some events but not others? We'd love to see you at everything, but we also understand that attending four events requires superhuman stamina. Come to what works for you, stay as long as you can, leave when you need to. We'll be happy you were there at all.
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Are there hotel or Airbnb recommendations? Coming soon. We're compiling a list.
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Are there rooms on the property? Yes! MIT Endicott House has multiple rooms available. Reach out to the estate directly and they'll coordinate with you.
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Can we take photos during the ceremony? Will there be a professional photographer? Yes and YES.
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Where should we share our photos? We'll share a drive soon. We want all the angles, all the moments, all the proof that this actually happened.
ON GIFTS
We know what you're doing right now. You're looking for the registry link. You're thinking about cash funds or honeymoon contributions or that one extremely specific kitchen gadget you're convinced will change our lives.
We appreciate it. Truly. But let us save you the scrolling: there isn't one.
Here's why: You're already giving us everything we could possibly want.
Some of you are flying in from different continents. Some of you have shown up for us over and over these past years at campaign events when we needed volunteers, at dissertation defenses when we needed moral support, at 11 PM when we needed someone to tell us we weren't losing our minds. You've celebrated our wins, endured our Pi Day parties (now in their exponential growth phase), and never once complained when "quick coffee" turned into a three-hour conversation about everything and nothing.
So no, we don't need gifts. We need you there. We need you dancing until the city asks us to stop. We need you in our photos, at our tables, part of this whole beautiful, chaotic thing we're calling a wedding.
Your presence is the present. Your friendship is worth more than anything we could register for. The fact that you're reading this at all means you've already given us more than enough.
(That said: if you're the kind of person who physically cannot attend a wedding without bringing something, and this is causing you actual psychological distress, we get it. We'll figure something out (maybe a hangout). Just know that showing up is already more generous than we have any right to ask for.)
Thank you for being here. Thank you for being ours. Thank you for making this possible.