marriage of minds

Sister married a quiet Punjabi this Monday. A fellow Judge, a gentleman, a bright promising young man.
My father kept saying ours is a cosmopolitan family. There are many reasons for that. He also cried a bit, on my shoulders, though we both know daughters in our family never leave; they bring sons into our home. This is how we have stayed for generations. This is how we strive to be.
At the core of this philosophy lies the deep-rooted feminism in my father. Three decades ago, when he married my mother, he would address my mother as ``Mrs Singh'' when sons-in-law at my maternal grandfather's house weren't even allowed to speak to their wives! He says he revolutionized the household then with his insistent address for my mother, a rather honorable one. Yesterday, my mother's sisters agreed with him when he said that.
Sister rejected bright IITians and MBAs (she repeatedly calls them ``rupee-counting morons'' though I find this a cruel generalization except for the fact that during the course of groom-hunting, we came across many such specimen.) to marry someone who reads and reads a lot, makes great conversation, loves his parents and ours too, eats little, runs a lot, and most of all, is modest despite being a Punjabi.
The reality is finally sinking in. My baby sister is married. And happily so. And, her wedding reaffirms to me a staunch belief: marriages aren't about parents deciding for their daughters' future and if their men can afford Versace; it's about daughters telling them that security of a fat wallet isn't what all women seek; Some of them want men who can stimulate their brains and give them a dignified way of life.