The sounds of Nadaswaram filled the hall, strung with chains of orange marigold alternating with yellow chrysanthemus. The fragrance of roses and tuberoses permeated through the air. The Mangalya Dharanam had just been completed and there was a general air of relaxation on the mandapam as well as the air conditioned hall.
The bride resplendent in the red madisar and the groom in panchakacham were receiving guests, laughing with them and posing for pictures. The rose-pink garlands glowed against their traditional attire.
A side-table was filled with gift-wrapped boxes of all sizes.
The priest and his assistant gathered up their paraphernalia, bundled them into bags and prepared to leave.
People gathered on the side of the dias and soon a queue formed. Each batch greeted the newlyweds, flanked them for the customary photos and left.
The main photographer was in his late 60s. Belying his age, he energetically hurried all around the dias to take shots from different angles. His assistant, a young guy, helped him, carrying the heavy equipment around, and directed the couple and the guests to stand in order so that the photographer could work efficiently.
Now that the muhurtham was done, the wedding guests moved the chairs into circles, sat on them and chatted. The senior ladies, in their classic kanjeevaram sarees, rested at the centre with satisfied smiles. One of the women brought a daughter, who had just got admission into a prestigious college and prompted her to take blessings from the older lady by doing namaskaram to her. The older woman adjusted her glasses and pulled the girl towards her to ask her about future plans.
The other ladies surreptitiously searched for their own wards and wondered whether they should follow suit.
A few of the catering people, dressed in smart uniforms, were handing out disposable glasses full of juice to everyone.
The younger people chatted with energy and often burst into spontaneous laughter. The subjects of their conversations were mainly their careers, job switches and marriages. There was some evident flirting between a few. The little girls in pattu-pavadais and strings of jasmine in their plaits ran around the chairs with the boys dressed in kurtas, following them.
The older men made their own circles and discussed politics and cricket. A few of them pointedly began looking at their watches and waited for their wives to signal about joining the lunch queue.
Meanwhile, the people who had finished greeting the couple, made a beeline to the dining hall. Here, the fragrance of flowers was entirely replaced by the sweet aromas of food.
The caterer-in-charge was overseeing the arrangements, tension written all over his face. He barked orders at his minions who hurried carrying in buckets and pails of freshly cooked food.
Meanwhile, the neatly washed banana leaves were being set on the pristine white sheets that covered the tables. The items being served, the vadas, curries, avial, pappadam, sambar and payasam made a visually stunning contrast on the emerald green of the leaves.
The attendant staff hurried around to make sure second servings reached on time.
As people were finishing the lunch and moving into the hand wash area, the maids quickly folded the sheets along with the stained-leaves into huge sacks and another set of people re-did the sheets and the leaves, making way for the rest of the crowd to be seated.
The betel leaves and meeta paans were set up outside the dining hall. The return gifts were piled up at the exit and a couple of young girls were making sure that all the guests received them, on their way out.
Meanwhile the rush to take photos with the bride and groom had petered out. The couple were the only ones left on the dais.
The older photographer gestured to his assistant and whispered. “Now, don’t ask me why. Just follow my instructions. I am going to get on the dias. I will first talk to the bride and then slowly move to her side. You have to quickly and discreetly click a few photos.”
The assistant looked at him and nodded uncertainly. Why did the boss look sad? Or was it apprehension?
He clambered over to the dias and softly whispered to the girl that the roses in a part of her garland had withered away and showed up bare in the photos. If she was okay, he would adjust it.
She turned towards him to smile and suddenly hesitated. For some reason he looked familiar- not because he had been in the front the whole day – more as if she knew him from a long while ago.
She nodded and he adjusted the garland carefully, without disturbing her in any way. Then with his hands at his sides, he secretly signalled his assistant.
His heart heavy, his mind in turmoil, his thoughts raced.
If only his wife hadn’t died in childbirth, if only his job hadn’t made it difficult for him to manage a new-born baby, if only he hadn’t given the baby up for adoption, today he would have been the proud father of the bride. He would have done all the rituals a dad had to do.
And he wouldn’t have had to sneak in a photo like this!
He turned away to hide the tears.
