Jasmine and Fate: Tangled Vows

1. A Match made in Heaven

Glossary in order of appearance :

Poruwa Ceremony : Matrimonial Rituals done at auspicious times

Amma : Mother

Appachchi : Father

Poruwa : The stage where the traditional Sinhala matrimonial rituals take place. Usually decorated with flowers and various intricate designs.

Veda-Mahaththaya : Ayurvedic Doctor, who can sometimes give out blessings in Sinhalese Weddings

Ashtaka : Sinhala Wedding Blessings

Milk-rice : A local dish made of rice and coconut milk which is usually made for ceremonies and New Year.

Thalla : A matrimonial necklace, made by the groom for his bride which he puts on her during their wedding.

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Sanda's Pov:

"It is 9.05 am."
The "Auspicious" time to be married.

With this realisation, my throat runs dry, making it hard to swallow. The traditional septuplets of jewelled swan necklaces adorning my neck feels heavy. The white rose bouquet that I hold in my hand, suddenly weighs heavier than it is supposed to. I'm starting to feel a little flushed in my face as the faces of family, well-wishers and guests who came for the Poruwa Ceremony, bore onto me.

Among the tiny crowd, I spot my Amma and Appachchi standing at the very front. Amma looks teary eyed, dabbing occationally at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

Appachchi is beaming with pride and overwhelming joy as his eldest is to be married. I know he is trying his hardest to keep his own tears from falling.

This very reminder makes my eyes sting, tears threatening to spill. I glance up quickly, to prevent the tears from ruining my makeup.

The long, fragrant lines of Jasmine garlands that adorn the Poruwa, sways gentle wind catching my eye. Watching rhythmic movements helps me calm down. Through the flower chains, I notice a dark sky – a great big grey mass creeping in, overshadowing the vast bright blue. My breath hitches in my throat. I try to shake off the ominous feeling that abruptly clouds my thoughts.

Meanwhile the Veda-Mahaththaya goes on chanting the Ashtaka. I've heard it a million times in various other weddings, in weddings of friends, neighbours and relatives. But it felt surreal to watch the Ashtaka being told in my own wedding.

The Veda-Mahaththaya gestures for us to get on to the Poruwa. It was then, that I sneak a peek at my soon-to-be husband, who was also about to get onto the poruwa from the other end. He looks calm and composed though he doesnt smile. He stares at the ground as his uncle aids him to get on to the Poruwa just as Sube Maama helps me on my side.

Like two oddly placed dolls, we stand on the wooden structure with thousands of intricate designs adorned with endless garlands of Jasmine flowers. From the Poruwa, I see many recognisable faces.

The Veda-Mahaththaya continues chanting the Ashtaka, going through various rituals, he instructs my groom to feed me a piece of milk rice, and let me sip from a glass of milk, symbolising his obligation to nourish me. He then tells him to dress me, symbolic gesture of providing me with clothing and protection, he also asks him to put the Thalla around my neck signifying our union in matrimony.

When it was time to exchange rings, I glance at the man who is almost my husband. A tall, fair man in his early 30s. He looked handsome in his neatly pressed navy blue suit and carefully trimmed beard. His dark brown eyes momentarily gazing at my face before quickly looking away. He still has a complicated look on his face but he manages to flash me a quick smile and look away. But the smile never reached his eyes. At that moment, I wish for things to be much different later on.

As the Veda-Mahaththaya continued the rest of the matrimonial ritual, I look around me, meeting a few gazes of the families gathered and other guests who are watching. The rest of the Poruwa rituals and ceremonies continue as I find myself entrapped in a distant memory of the ringing of a bicycle bell. My mind was suddenly in a vivid landscape of a movie. Hurrying through the house to grab the little white envelop that I know, was brought by the postman.

The next parts of the ceremony pass vaguely in front of me, us worshipping our parents, seeking blessings for a long and happy marriage. Still in a daze, we follow the Veda-Mahaththaya's instructions through the ceremony and my husband guides me as we step down from the Poruwa.

The sharp slashing of a Dara Manne breaks me off of my reverie. Sube mama had slashed the sacred coconut in half. My eyes drift off to see the smiles on my parents face. It reassures me of a good sign.

Seated beside my husband, on the divan that has also been decorated with more delicate flowers, I look around me. Everything looks so beautiful today, as if it is a scene borrowed from a magestic painting. Everybody is smiling, laughing and chattering away.  The kids are dancing on the dance floor, the DJ plays upbeat music in the background.

Amma and Appachchi are speaking to my new in-laws, happily gesturing at us. I watch as they laugh, and nod sharing the joy of the new union of our two families. Beside me, my husband watches the wedding party too. Neither of us have spoken to one another for more than a few minutes up until now. Neither of us seem to want to initiate a conversation right now either. The awkward silence between us feels very strange, but I think it will take some time for us to be ourselves with each other.

But why do I feel nothing within me? Why cant I seem to enjoy my own wedding despite managing to smile for the photographs? Why do I feel so empty inside?

Alright there people, this time Im bringing to you a story closer to home. It's based in my own country and I plan on delivering very authentic content. I will also include definitions and pictures for clarifying certain things in the story.

Anyway, how do you like the story for far? Why do you think Sanda feels this way?

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