The bride entered the temple first. She was exotic and beautiful, like a foreign queen resplendent in crimson red and gold, and accompanied by an entourage of young beauties dressed in gold.

We had to wait for the arrival of the groom. It was quite a wait. At last came the news.

“The groom has arrived,” someone said, and soon everyone in the temple knew he was outside.

All eyes were on the closed doors.

“Go to the door to greet him,” my mentor, Hari, told me.

The doors opened and a beautiful woman walked ahead of the groom towards the threshold. My son was tall and handsome in his dark suit, red tie and red turban. He smiled and bent to kiss me. One of the bride’s uncles took him aside to affix something to the turban, and then James looked behind me to the gathered assembly of familiar and unfamiliar faces. The tears flowed down his cheeks.

“I’m just so happy to be here and to see you all,” he said half laughing, half crying.

“Take his hand – he needs you,” Hari whispered in my ear, “And lead him into the dining room for tea and breakfast.”

And I wiped his cheeks with a tissue Hari had passed to me. And Jim and I held hands while we enjoyed our cups of tea that someone had poured for us. And after a breakfast of samosas and other delicacies we parted company on the stairs leading up to the room where the ceremony was to take place…

Tomorrow I’ll post more photo’s.