It was
A solid brick empire,
Gaiety crammed
Every nook and corner.
And on the central floor,
Crackled steadily
The flame of the soul's oneness
Fanned by syllables of ghee;
While the auguring hour
For sacred knotting,
Drummed rhythms of indissolubility,
Drawing hands
To sow grains of blessings
On soil connubial. 
Then shops of gifts
Opened their wares to the pair
Amidst chants of offerings
Then hijacked
To a thatched terminal,
We sweated
Through a session
Of piquant-plum calories
And sought leaves
To lighten ourselves.
While hurrying
Across a floor of feet
Some of us,
In red-lipped clover.
Picked up costlier legs
Clutching
The packed fruit of farewell.