Ah, the minnu and manthrakodi—once sacred, now just gold merchants’ playgrounds, I think. The church ceremony feels rushed, like checking items off a wedding-shopping list. You see, my own granddaughter’s manthrakodi was chosen not for prayer but for how it photographed under the chandelier. These rituals used to be about *jingiaseng*, a deep tying of lives, not which jeweller’s advertisement you featured in.
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