Victorian charm

By Laila Nasry

" I must have been a "suddi" in my previous birth," she laughs trying to justify her affinity to all that is English. Especially the Victorian period which influences her sewing. The genius of Praneela in the form of embroidered cushion covers, tablecloths, sarees, dresses, baby robes, for that matter anything, is indescribable. Every stitch is exquisite and finished piece beautiful. 

As every year this year too her "talent" will be up for sale. Come November 27 and 28 and her residence- 8, Palm Grove Colombo 3 will be the place for anyone seeking to own something that is unique and out of this world. As always this sale too has a title-this year, "Garland of roses", in keeping with the Victorian theme. Soft furnishing has been introduced among other regular items, promising to make this sale different from previous years. 

Organising a sale of this kind is no joke. And Praneela uses a work force of more than twenty girls to help her. The preparation starts three months ahead. She single handedly designs every piece. "Spur of the moment designs come to my head. I also look at catalogues and books. But I never copy. I only adapt." Her days are long. From 7 in the morning to 6.30 in the evening she sits designing. Inspiration is not something that comes fast and furious. But once the idea is born she can't wait to see the finished item. "It gives me a thrill and a great sense of satisfaction." 

But all is not a bed of roses. "Me being a perfectionist doesn't help at all," she confesses. For she looks into every little detail and sometimes gets the girls to re-do the stitches if she feels they're untidy. "When things get tight, I chip in," she says talking of times when the workload far outweighs the work force. For the dainty and elaborate work is done by hand as Praneela hates machines. And a full strand of thread is used to make the stitches more sturdy and give it a picture like quality. But this is in no way a discouragement to someone who essentially loves working under pressure. 

At the end of all the sewing and embroidery her house transforms into a "dhobi" house. Every piece is washed, ironed and packed with care. Baby items are washed with baby products to ensure their safety. At the end of it all there are times when she has grown so attached to the items that she does not want to sell them. 

Other than the sale, Praneela also takes orders. "The orders are never mass scale. I always prefer one of a kind." The designing, colour co-ordination is all done by her. The disadvantage of all this is that it does not allow time for a break. "I long to go on a holiday. I haven't had a day's rest," she laments. 

However she has great plans to expand in the near future. 

She feels Victorian embroidery is a dying art. "We want to open a gallery so that people will know of Victorian embroidery."

'Tradern' weddings

By Aditha Dissanayake

The bridegroom arrives at the entrance of the hotel at an auspicious time, in a car with paper ribbons adorning the bonnet. A line of Kandyan dancers await him. As he gets off the car dressed in full European dress, a young boy also dressed in tie and coat sprinkles water on to his shoes from a finger bowl borrowed from the hotel. The bridegroom throws a ring into the white bowl, before he walks off with his brightly polished shoes making wet patches on the red carpet. 

He waits in the big ballroom with a foreign-sounding name to it, for the bride. She arrives in a Hire which could best be described as cosmopolitan. The white saree is draped around her in the Indian style. She carries a bouquet of flowers, while a long veil trails behind her. Young girls dressed in the manner of Queen Victoria, follow her. Her face is covered with a piece of lace the way ladies going to church cover theirs. 

The two stand on the poruwa and the "poruwa ceremony" begins. Everything is done according to the commands of the cameraman. "Don't slouch, stand straight," he commands the bride's uncle. "Now the mother come here. Where is the father? Tell him to stand on the left. The others move back, back." If his precious contraption fails to click at the right moment then the whole event needs to be repeated. 

From the poruwa the couple moves off to a side table where the Registrar awaits them to officially declare them man and wife. Once this ritual is accomplished, the mother-in-law of the bride removes the piece of lace which has so far been covering her daughter-in-law's face. 

The couple next lights an oil lamp with a candle, and moves on to cut a cake, which is not really a cake, but a fake made out of rigifoam. Often it takes ages for them to find the place where they should insert the knife to cut through the rigifoam. Once they find the piece of wedding cake hidden inside the fake mould, the man stuffs a piece of it into the wife's mouth while the wife, shy and trying not to giggle, or dead serious as if life depended on this simple task, places a piece in her husband's mouth. The entire gathering watches. Some are already feeling bored. The men wriggle in their unaccustomed coats and are thankful to the A/C. The women's hands are constantly busy making numerous adjustments to their sarees, checking if the hair-style is as it should be, touching the necklace to see if it has not fallen off, etc. 

The couple sits on a couch behind which stands a flower arrangement made from lilies and carnations and Cyprus leaves. The photographer is busy clicking away. He wants the two to twist their arms this way and that way with the wine-glasses in their hands. He wants them to stare into each other's eyes. He wants them to look lovingly at each other. He takes them outside to stand them in front of the artificial waterfall in the garden...

The guests try not to yawn. Music from the band makes conversation impossible. "She is not crying anymore" is played once, twice, thrice. A firm favourite with most bands, yet how inappropriate the words sound. Lunch is finally served at around one thirty in the afternoon. This seems to be the only event that has no "nakath time" to be adhered to. 

The couple disappears. Almost a millennium would seem to have passed by, before they appear in their "going-away outfits". The more impatient of the guests make their farewells. Their minds are already on the work that would have accumulated at the office in their absence.

During a momentary lull the bride in her green Bengali-looking dress is seen staring at the photo of her father who had passed away a few years before. The woeful look on her face makes you wish you could do something to cheer her up. Just as you begin to walk up to her, a voice shouts from behind you. "O.K. Keep looking like that, but turn your head slightly to the left - And you, you are covering the lens. Move." The photographer!

When the nakath time for departure draws near, the two get into the car and drive off. But five minutes later they come back to the hotel. They will be spending the night there. 

"What shall we have for dinner?" he asks her that night. She wants to have a Chinese meal. He would like to try some Italian dishes. Already there is discord. 

From the "ballroom" of a hotel to the divorce courts in Mt.Lavinia, that is what most of today's marriages are (seemingly) made of! 

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