Sweet Masala Chai 2 – from Goa, India
The wedding rings are ready. Most people would say “We’ve had the rings made”. But I guess we just don’t cut the norm in this respect either (remember, I’m the one who’s 15 years older, not him). So, yes we made the rings. And I’m not talking coca cola can cap improvisations or coconut shell carvings; I mean proper gold and silver with handpicked semi-precious stones that have terribly deep and spiritual meanings. It was J’s idea of course – romantic that he is – to get a Kashmiri jeweler to give us a crash course in how to make silver rings and then coach us through the process of shaping and filing wedding rings for each other i.e. I do his, he does mine. The jeweler’s name was Shabir, which is apparently Kashmiri for patience. Just as well really because he needed quite a bit of it dealing with us two – and boy did we need it with him. I do believe everyone should try making rings together and then see if they still want to get married. Talk about misunderstandings BIG TIME.
Drama one: I say I don’t feel confident enough to make rings that will turn out well enough for us to want to wear them forever. He reacts angrily because his sweet idea is dismissed and his romantic vision smashed. We end up in big argument. I say I never wear rings anyway (my fingers are fat) and don’t even know if I want to get married (really mature behaviour for a woman approaching 40!)
Drama two: We decide to do it but jeweler Shabir is not there at pre-arranged time and we can’t be bothered to wait. Unseasonable pre-monsoon rains throw everything off balance, we lose interest and a couple of days.
Drama three: We disagree again. This time I really want to make them and he doesn’t. We bicker until ‘the rings’ issue becomes a taboo.
Drama four: We finally agree and practice by making silver rings. We’re both chuffed that it’s so easy and talk to the jeweler about buying some gold. But the next day Shabir –who’s late again and it’s about 40 degrees C – pisses J off (we had asked for white gold, thinner metal, better price etc etc) so that he won’t deal directly with him and says I should tell him we’ve decided to leave.
Drama five: We find a compromise (bloody sweet-talking Kashmiri) and spend the day crafting and creating so happily we could be Blue Peter kids. A few glitches get in the way: I break the saw wire three times until J shows off by doing this part for me but so over-eagerly he cuts into the ring nearly making me cry; J thinks his ring is too thick but it’s too late to change it; J’s ring is a bit tight and the Indians keep nodding their heads saying “No problem” (what it’s going to expand with wear, is it?); Shabir, the alleged expert with years and years of experience gets glue all over my stone but J after a mere 5 hours of practice manages to salvage it and the ring. He is my absolute hero and of course I want to marry him. Did I ever say I doubted that?
So here we are in Goa ready for our shotgun Indian wedding (in case you’re not following see the last column). Only I’m afraid I have to disappoint. It ain’t happening. It was bribing those witnesses that let us down ;-). No actually, to tell the truth it was just too damn complicated and there were too many awkward officials in the way of us becoming residents. Maybe with the right amount of Baksheesh (bribes for those not familiar with the Indian law) it would have been possible but with only a week to go on our trip, we’d rather… I don’t know ….lie on the beach and get even more tanned. So it looks like it will be a Spanish affair after all. Think Catholic Church on a parched southern Spain plain in the sweltering heat with 150 of his relatives and about five of mine.
Eat your heart out Federico Garcia Lorca.
Well, at least we already have the rings.
By Claudia Spahr
For more information and an excerpt from her latest book go to: http://www.andrewlownie.co.uk
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