The Polyglot Ritual

Like I said, it didn't rain on D-Day. The bride probably did not eat raw rice as a child, or else her karma is ruled by Bengali superstitions rather than southern ones, under some pre-ordained arrangement in the Department of Heaven.God rules, Ok?The exalted pedestal at the New Woodlands was a nice one for a viewer-friendly wedding. The iron "homakundam" was a concession to modernity, and so was the Arya Samaj priest.His name was Tamilarasan, and he delivered good Sanskrit mantras, with simultaneous translations in Tamil and Hindi which would have done Kofi Annan or the U.N. proud. And he backed it up with some nice, sarky comments for the crowd, which preferred to bless Him and Her by chattering than invent a confetti of thoughts in solemn silence.Oh well, we come to weddings to say hullo to friends and family, right? If the groom and bride elope halfway through the ritual, it would be difficult for anyone to spot them missing, bar the priest, who might well give a chance if the smoke gets in his eyes.The said Tamilarasan asked the crowd to be quiet. They were not. They wore silk and zari and bantered a lot. Besides, it is fun to talk at a wedding where the groom bends earnestly in a churidar kurta while the nadaswaram plays on.And we are not to forget the conch-blowing and the yodelling howls of the Bongs, for whom it is auspicious to howl when things are going well. (They forgot to do it when Sourav was batting, on many occasions, it seems!).A certain uncle of the bride had to fight with one of the hotel authorities, who murmured something about guests (at the hotel, not the wedding) being disturbed by the unlikely sounds whose origins were traced to the Sunderbans or thereabouts.