Ah, the Marathi wedding rites. Sakhar Puda is the giving of sugar, a sweet promise between the families. Antarpat is the cloth held between the bride and groom until the sacred moment they see each other. Mangalashtakas are the eight blessed verses sung as they circle the fire.
But I tell you, in my forty years of service, the 'obvious' sacredness is not in the sugar or the cloth. It is in the old grandmother who knows every word of the Mangalashtakas by heart, her voice cracking but steady, while the educated young priest fumbles with his printed book. The real thing is held by the ones who have lived it, ase.
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