Auspicious? Suspicious.
Auspicious gave us just three weeks for three wedding celebrations in three different countries. So I stocked up on Punjabi suits from the Chennai Silk Palace in Klang, packed the gastrolyte and set out from KL with RR and a small touring party of friends and relatives.
India: we’re mid-way through a four-day pilgrimage from Trichy to Madurai and it’s no day for silk saris or going bare-foot. It’s 42 degrees; this is the South of India in the middle of summer. When I’m served curry at 9:30am it could pass as lunch because we’ve been up since 3:30am – at which time we were wrapped in metres of material and bundled into a bus to travel the two-and-a-half hours to Pillayarpati. A couple of years ago, RR visited its Sri Rarpaga Vinayagar temple and thought – wouldn’t it be nice to be married here – yeah, and ultra convenient too. I was looking at RR thinking strange – she really does look Japanese – when a small boy approached me and asked “are you Japan?” “No” I replied. He walked away. Shy wore a traditional Tamil plaited, floral hair-extension that must have weighed four kilos and carried a heavy sweat moustache. Rueben cried. We all kept sweating. RR led ADSW around the fire twice before the priest could stop her. ADSW looked perplexed and hot throughout. My sari – once royal blue – turned navy. The paparazzi obscured the view, so I missed the tying of the thali, but it’s been immortalised on double DVD, so I can watch it in the comfort of my own home, with m&ms if I so please.
Sri Lanka: uninitiated, I thought we’d be leaving chaos behind in India. Possibly not, ADSW warned. As I learnt – an excel spreadsheet does not ensure order. As token white bridesmaid, ADSW’s Mum turned to me in desperation at the rushed church rehearsal as if to say “please tell me you’re Catholic”. I just shrugged. In the end, Rekha and I winged it – she did a lovely reading from Corinthians handling words like livery and sheol with aplomb, and standing at the front of the church, we belted out a hymn we’d never heard. Part way through the last verse I looked over my shoulder to see the remainder of the congregation sitting and ADSW's Mum giving me a hand signal to say “you can sit down now”. Colombo was crazy. The police escort ensured we made it to the church on time, but the 36 degree weather and unbearable humidity saw the pancake make-up sweated off en-route.The reception was a grand affair for 400 in the ballroom of the Trans Asia. It was a tough gig to MC, but I eventually got a laugh out of the crowd when they saw me dance with Dev who is both a lot shorter and a lot skinnier than me. The newly married couple staged a farewell for the cameras, drove around the block then after another costume change joined us in the Library and danced until 4am.
I had a week before I needed to return to KL for the next party. I made it to Nuwara-Eliya and World’s End, Kandy, Dambulla, Sigiriya and Polonnaruwa – seeing some amazing landscapes and ancient sites, but oddly enough no tourists. It is so incredibly sad that the war (which is non-evident for the most part and entirely nonsensical) is keeping people away and ruining livelihoods. Visit Sri Lanka. You won’t regret it.
Malaysia: RR’s Mum is one of eight and her Dad, one of seven, so when all the Aunties and Uncles (and thank-goodness for these Asian terms of endearment) and cousins get together it makes for one hell of a party. Add to that RR’s Taylor’s pals and the chem eng crew from Sydney and it’s a diabolical mix. There were food stalls in their backyard - hawker style - cooking satay and noodles, and a DJ from a KL club ensured the dance floor stayed hot all night – mixing Bhangra basics with Michael Jackson and Jon Bon Jovi. But the real party started around 1am when Dev produced the Rockland Rum and Rueben produced his guitar. “I’m leaving on a jet-plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again…” we must have sung the John Denver classic five teary times.
The next morning when all anyone was interested in was dealing with their hangovers, RR and ADSW came downstairs sheepishly announcing “we have a problem”. During the night RR had slipped her wedding ring onto her middle finger, her hands had swelled in the humidity (and from the alcohol), and now she couldn’t get it off. After unsuccessfully trying a couple of home remedies and given the finger was turning purple, it was off to hospital where it was removed with a bone-cutter (the ring, not the finger thankfully).
Completely exhausted, I boarded my flight back to Melbourne. I took ill on the way and ended up being taken from the plane to emergency myself, where I spent 8 hours on a drip. Dramatic homecoming – yes, but it goes to show I did the auspicious trip justice!
Sacred site visits from temple in Tamil Nadu to Sigirya in Sri Lanka.