Jewish Wedding in Bombay

Her mother shed a tear or two but wasn't really

crying. It was the thing to do, so she did it

enjoying every moment. The bride laughed when I

sympathized, and said don't be silly.

Her brothrs had a shoe of mine and made me pay

to get it back. The game delighted all the neighbours'

children, who never stopped staring at me, the reluctant

bridegroom of the day.

There was no dowry because they knew I was 'modern'

and claimed to be modern too. Her father asked me how

much jewellery I expected him to give away with his daughter.

When I said I did't know, he laughed it off.

There was no brass band outside the synagogue

but I remember a chanting procession or two, some rituals,

lots of skull-caps, felt hats, decorated shawls

and grape juice from a common glass for bride and

bridegroom.

I remember the breaking of the glass and the congregation

clapping which signified that we were well and truly married

according to the Mosaic Law.

Well that's about all. I don't think there was much

that struck me as solemn or beautiful. Mostly, we were

amused, and so were the others. Who knows how much belief

we had?

Even the most orthodox it was said ate beef because it

was cheaper, and some even risked their souls by

relishing pork.

The Sabbath was for betting and swearing and drinking.

Nothing extravagant, mind you, all in a low key

and very decently kept in check. My father used to say,

these orthodox chaps certainly know how to draw the line

in their own crude way. He himself had drifted into the liberal

creed but without much conviction, taking us all with him.

My mother was very proud of being 'progressive'.

Anyway as I was saying, there was that clapping and later

we went to the photographic studio of Lobo and Fernandes,

world-famous specialists in wedding portraits. Still later,

we lay on a floor-matress in the kitchen of my wife's

family apartment and though it was part midnight she

kept saying let's do it darling let's do it darling

so we did it.

More than ten years passed before she told me that

she remembered being very disappointed. Is that all

there is to it? She had wondered. Back from London

eighteen months earlier, I was horribly out of practice.

During our first serious marriage quarrel she said Why did

you take my virginity from me? I would gladly have

returned it, but not one of the books I had read

instructed me how.

The poem starts with the setting of an Indian jewish wedding, then drifts intothe community's ways of living (how Indianised it has become) and finally endswith looking back in life. Asked once how he could have written this poem,Ezekiel retorted with, "Who is the 'we' in the poem?"