We keep it simple in our old Puthankurisu parishes, none of that banquet hall fuss. The minnu, the manthrakodi, the quiet prayers before the altar—these are not for show, they are the heavy threads that sew two lives into the church. What I see too often now is families treating the church rite as a quick photo stop before the real party, forgetting the vow is the main thing. I know because for forty years, my greatest weddings were the poor ones in the side chapel, where the only gold was the cross on the minnu.
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