SHE PLACED HER HAND IN HIS
sat facing the bridegroom. Nobo Kumar gave away his daughter, repeating mantras in Sanscrit which the priest uttered, and as the bride placed her hand in the bridegroom's it trembled.
"Dost thou take as thy wife this girl, Hemlata, decked with jewels, daughter of Nobo Kumar?"
"Grihnami! I take her for my wife," repeated Sirish.
Then the veil was lifted, and the priest bade the bashful bride look at her lord, and the four eyes met. Hemlata's timid eyes were cast down again, and her fair face was flushed. Sirish, usually so calm and self-possessed, trembled with a deep-felt emotion when those beautiful dark eyes met his, when that lovely being, so sweet, so gentle, so long-desired, was his own.
Other mantras were repeated, other rites were performed. The bride threw some parched rice on the fire as sacrifice, and the fire blazed up. She stepped seven steps, and the ceremony was over. The knot was tied, and the bride and bridegroom retired to the inner apartments.
The bridal night in India belongs, not to the bride and bridegroom, but to their loving and rejoicing friends gathered on the occasion. By an ancient custom the night is passed by the wedded pair in a large hall surrounded by female relations. The bride seldom speaks, but merry repartees are exchanged between her friends and the bridegroom. Female wit is never more keen than when it is aimed at the devoted head of the bridegroom. And the joyousness of Indian women seldom assumes a greater licence than when young wives and girls come, armed for the fray, against the man who has
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