Mr and Mrs (Dr and Dr?) Narahari

Aw. Look at us. All decked out in our wedding finery!

And do you know what? It was the most beautiful day.

After torrential rain in Alnwick a few weeks before (err, while we on our honeymoon. Thanks, weather gods!), the day was dry and the sun even managed to shine. Hurrah!

Clare, my sister, is an absolute beauty on a normal day (like, annoyingly so), but she really did look an absolute stunner in her pink sari. I love the colour palette, don't you? Ivory? YAWN. So passe.

And Krish looked very dapper himself.

Here they are garlanding each other. They're on the mandap (spelling?), which was like a raised stage at the front of the room. The Hindi priest lit a fire. There were prayers to gods of all kinds, devotions and dedications, the tying of a necklace around Clare's neck, seven sacred vows...it was long, I tell you. But very interesting. Strokey-chin-thoughtful-face.

And what was really interesting was that the sentiment behind a lot of the words and symbolic actions wasn't too different from a church ceremony.

We had a church ceremony, too, you see. An Indian lunch was followed by a swift change in the B&B to an ivory frock and a Reiss number for me. Timings cocked up (which we laughed about later, but wasn't so funny at the time) and Krish was late to the church. His parents were later. We took refuge in the priest's house. He offered us a whiskey. Clare declined. I reeeeeally wanted one.

And then we had a wedding breakfast (where the speeches were beautiful, and completely paid tribute to the fact that Clare and Krish are the Loveliest People In The World) and then a party. Their first dance merged into the Slumdog Millionaire song (the non-Pussy-Cat-Dolls version, thankfully). And my dad was on the dance floor with all of the Indian contingent punching the air with one fist.

It was hilarious. And brilliant.

Congratulations to Mr and Mrs (Dr and Dr?) Narahari!