35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘IF I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE’
pictures. The wide-eyed bride stood in a stunning crimson sari that
must have had a kilo of gold thread embroidered around its borders.
She had eye make-up that made Elizabeth Taylor look like Golda
Meir, and wore a huge pearl-encrusted nose ring joined by gold
and ruby chains to filigree earrings festooned with diamonds and
emeralds. She looked nervous, however; the eyes were like those of
a frightened fawn. On one page a large picture showed her weighed
down by this costume and entering a large, square white bag. It was
almost a tent, in fact, with a long zip that presumably closed its
entrance. The marriage rites, she told me, were performed while
she was in this bag. She had never before seen her man until after
they’d been pronounced husband and wife.
What was it like when they finally unzipped the bag and she
found herself face-to-face with the fellow she’d be spending the rest
of her life with? She giggled, hiding her face, blushing.
‘I thought Mummy and Daddy made very good choice,’ she replied
eventually, still hopelessly embarrassed.
Somehow, I couldn’t imagine her having a sex life at all. She went
on to say, as if answering this unspoken question, that she was so far
still very happy with her parents’ choice of spouse. I suspected that
the rajkumari’s silent but forbidding presence had more than a little
to do with this answer (I was wrong, as it turned out – ‘Mummy’
spoke not a word of English, which also probably accounted for her
silence).
The wedding seemed to have been very involved, and exceedingly
long, both bride and groom resembling temple idols during a
marathon puja, beginning to look bored and very weary after the
first hundred photographs, then merely dazed. I guessed the heat
and the heavy outfits took their toll as the festivities continued.
After the ceremony itself, there had been numerous tiresomelooking
formal functions – you could hardly term them a party. No
one appeared to be having any fun. I sensed an air of absolute chaos
behind the vivid colours and the exotic rites. In one sequence, the
rajkumar, dressed like Yul Brynner in The King and I, handed out
saris and dhotis to his loyal subjects. Men on one side, women on
the other, the people of Venkatagiri sat lining the main street for as
far as the eye could see in both directions. Although these clothes
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