Mr and Mrs Adam Price

          Here it is, folks, the wedding of the century (as far as I'm concerned.)  The photo above really doesn't do justice to how beautiful Pratibha (Patti) looked, as she entered the room where the ceremony took place.  She glittered and sparkled almost from head to foot, from the tiara to her beautifully sequined and gold embroidered slippers.  (Which she showed to everyone, later, on the lawn outside, by cocking up one leg, in case we missed them.  It's easy to see why her family affectionately call her 'Muni' or 'little girl'.)

          Nor does it do justice to how handsome and smart my two brothers looked in their dark suits and button-holes (Andrew was best man) or how smart Davy looked in his grey suit and shiny shoes.  (I looked a scruff as usual, and didn't even have the beflowered hat, as Andrew and Davy declared it OTT and I left it in the car.)

          After the ceremony, we went to another room, where an Aarti was held, a Hindu blessing, with Patti's grandmother and mother presiding.  A tray of lighted candles was held and moved in circles before figures of the gods Shiva, Derga and Ganesh, while the company sang, unaccompanied but most beautifully.  Anyone was welcome to go forward and hold the tray with Adam and Patti, and many guests did, whether Hindu or not.  Afterwards nuts were shared out among the guests, and we passed our hands over the flames before touching them to our eyes and smoothing them over our head.

          It was a lovely day and, as Adam and Patti first met and fell for each other twenty years ago, before parting, and then meeting again - it's about time!

          Here's the sonnet what I wrote, at Patti's request -

A Sonnet on the Marriage of Master Adam Price and Mistress Pratibha Garala

The Wise teach that for all that happens there is a 'Why' -

A lesson that must be learned, a debt that must be paid.

We may wish only to sit down and cry,

But we should listen and learn what the World has said.

Pay attention!  Learn that lesson fast! -

For Time moves swifter than an eyelid's flutter,

And in that blink of darkness two decades have passed

And twenty summers died, while we had other

Cares.  So when a twist

Of the path bring two lost ones home,

When eyes again meet and, as so much wished,

Hands once more clasp, and loneliness is done -

Then we should celebrate and loudly praise the Wise,

For if a debt has here been paid, Pratibha is the dearest Price!