Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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When I woke up the next day it was the wedding itself. James had stayed over at the groom’s house, and he would be part of the parade from there to the bride’s house that morning. Choti woke me up early and dragged me to Indira’s room, where I was privileged enough to help the other women in arranging the intricate fabrics of wedding dress. It was a gorgeous deep red, embroidered with thin gold wire in swirling patterns. Combined with the henna and intricate gold jewellery, which looked like additional lace around her neck and cascading down her forehead, she looked like a intricately spun gold statue.

She’s so pretty.

Like a pineapple.

I don’t understand.

Pineapples… they’re pretty.

Yes, but she doesn’t look like a pineapple.

But she’s pretty and pineapples are pretty, so she look like a pineapple.

You need brain surgery.

I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

Don’t worry, the men in white coats are coming, dear.

Drums began to echo down the street outside as the procession neared the house. Indira’s sisters swarmed to the terrace, the youngest, who was only five, pointing into the distance where the groom’s procession could be seen, the groom riding a beautiful dark chestnut stallion.

I picked James’ pale skin out of the crowd of young men around Dara, wearing a turban identical to those of Dara’s brothers, knocked sideways a little by some accident, which made him look a little drunk. The crowd began to filter through the bottle neck of the gate, meshing with the group already standing in the compound, relatives hugging and greeting each other, the groom riding right up to the front door. I wove through the crowd to find James, who I hadn’t seen since early yesterday.

“Hey you,” I whispered, hugging him quickly from behind whilst no one was watching.

“Hi stranger,” James whispered back, “You look… Indian.”

“Thanks,” I replied heartlessly, tweaking at my sari.

“I mean, you look beautiful,” James replied.

“Thanks,” I repeated, this time meaning it.

I was tempted to kiss him, but decided it wasn’t the best tactic. The temptation was quite strong though, as we hadn’t been alone since the plane journey three days ago. Instead I adjusted his turban for him, and we followed the wedding party inside, after the groom had been circled with a lamp, oil and salt splashed on the door frame, and his nose caught by Indira’s mother, which was apparently a tradition to remind the groom what he took away from the bride’s family.

Inside the party continued through to the large courtyard where the past days’ festivities had all taken place. A small four-pillared tent, open like a gazebo, had been erected in the middle for the ceremony to take place under with seats arrayed on all four sides around it. Choti took us over to ours and with everyone seated the ceremony began.

Three hours it may have been, but it was beautiful regardless. Choti translated quietly next to us, explaining each step’s significance, and the often symbolic nature of the ritual; garlands were exchanged, the bride threw flowers at the groom, they were separated by a white cloth later tied around their hands, hymns were recited. Unlike western ceremonies, the parents played an important part, taking the couple through their promises. The tiny circle in the bride’s hand left clear from henna was finally filled with a gold coin, then joined to the groom’s with the parents hands on top and underneath. Everything was filled with a tense reverence and happiness, which seemed infectious, as James took my hand in his early on and held it throughout the service.

The most significant part, according to Choti, was the circling of the sacred fire. First Indira led Dara around the fire, then Dara led Indira, and each circuit was joined with a promise; seven circuits, seven promises. Later Choti wrote the vows out on a piece of card for me, and I’ve kept it since;

To provide for your needs always, making each season beneficial to you.
To help you grow in physical, mental and spiritual strength.
To aid you in all your enterprises, increasing your wealth.
To acquire knowledge, happiness and harmony by mutual love, respect, understanding and faith.
To carry on your blood in my blood, through our children.
To support you in mind, body and soul in the long years of our life together.
To be true and loyal to you, remaining your true companion for the entirety of our lives together.

And then a joint vow, which Choti also copied out for me, the beautiful hindi script flowing across the page above the English translation.

We have taken the Seven Steps. You have become mine forever. I have become yours. Hereafter, I cannot live without you. Do not live without me. Let us share the joys. We are word and meaning, united. You are thought and I am sound. May the night be sweet as honey for us. May the morning be sweet as honey for us. May the earth, sky and sun be sweet as honey for us. May the heavens be sweet as honey for us. As the heavens are stable, as the earth is stable, as the mountains are stable, as the whole universe is stable, so may our union be permanently settled.

Choti’s quiet translation made my brimming emotions tip over, and I blushed furiously as I felt my eyes well up and tears make their oblivious way down my face. Applause broke out throughout the assembled audience of relatives and friends as the couple stepped out from under the canopy, Indira smiling softly, Dara grinning avidly.

“That’ll be us in about… four months,” James mused in my ear as we stood up together.

We waited for a while behind the stream of seemingly constant relatives, then congratulated the couple. As we parted James gave them our present, following the Hindu tradition, it was money, an auspicious number of $501. I then passed them the separate envelope which would conclude the idea which had formed in my head at the Mehendi party.

“Please, open this now, and tell me whether it’s a yes or no,” I requested, biting my lip to quell the rising tension in my chest.

Dara gave James a questioning look, but James shrugged, making him wait. I watched Indira face as she opened the envelope and read the wedding invitation which I’d brought for them, and the note I’d attached concerning a particular isolated lodge on the coast which the Adrian royal family owned. Indira’s face frowned for a moment and then burst into pure joy, her arms immediately enveloping me in a tight embrace.

“Dara, you must read this,” Indira said, regaining her composure.

Dara took the note from his new wife’s long hennaed fingers, the same look of incredulity spreading across his face, then a darkening of colour as he blushed.

“Of course it is a yes,” he replied, darting a shy sideways glance at Indira, “Who could resist such a thoughtful offer? Thank you, Meredith.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied, smiling happily, “I’m glad we could return the honour of being your guests here.”

Indira’s mother was coming over, so we quickly said nodded our goodbyes, Indira wrapping me in one last hug.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered in my ear, “I wish you and James all the happiness in the world. We’ll see you in April. I can’t believe -” her voice broke up, “You’ve given me a honeymoon, no gift could be better.”

We parted, withdrawing back into the crowd of relatives who had moved on into the outer compound to stand to wave off the couple. After paying his sister-in-laws to return his shoes, apparently another custom, Dara helped Indira into the car which would be taking them to the temple, and they left to much applause. The rest of the groom’s family had gone ahead back to their own home already, to get ready for their arrival.

James and I stood on the front terrace together silently whilst everyone else filtered back inside, watching the car fade into the mirages on the distant brow of the hill, watching the dust settle back onto the road.

“Four months,” I sighed, clasping his fingers in mine, still watching the horizon of the road.

“Four months,” James agreed.

I took a deep breath, thought about the wedding I’d just witnessed and realised, however scared I might feel, there was one small part of me which was entirely ready.

“See you there,” I smiled.

“Oh, I imagine we’ll see each other a few times in between,” James smiled back.

“Maybe once, or twice…”

We left the early the next morning, saying goodbye to the family with heavy hearts, slipping our shoes on and piling back into the same 4x4 as had brought us. The journey back through Agra and New Delhi to Calcutta, seemed shorter this time and the heat less intense. Exhausted, I fell asleep on James’ shoulder within a few minutes of boarding the plane, and was only woken up by his light touch as we landed back in Rous. All was quiet as we were greeted by the lush green of the palace lawn, as it was late into the evening and both my parents were away on business. Having said goodnight to Jade, James and I parted on the landing, and retired to our separate rooms.

As I drifted into sleep, I missed the closeness of the humidity and the buzz of insects outside. Instead I looked forward to April, when Indira and Dara would come, and I’d share in some of their happiness as I took my own seven steps up the aisle towards James.