The Best Man’s Suit

 

The Best Man’s Suit: A Sri Lankan Wedding Tale

St. Anne’s Blessing: A Tale of Love and Coming of Age

Denzil Jayasinghe

·

“The Best Man’s Suit: A Sri Lankan Wedding Tale” recounts the experience of a young man named Denzil as he navigates the complexities of being the best man in his friend Terrence’s wedding. Set against the vibrant backdrop of Sri Lankan Catholic tradition, the story highlights the importance of community, the excitement and anxiety of new experiences, and the transition from youth to adulthood. Through Denzil’s perspective, the narrative explores themes of friendship, cultural expectations, and the evolving dynamics of family relationships. Ultimately, the story is a charming exploration of self-discovery, and the unexpected turns life can take, even amidst joyous celebrations.

AsTerrence clutched his appointment letter, the weight of years of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders. The ink was barely dry, he rushed to the cooperative society, his footsteps echoing the rapid beating of his heart. The loan secured; he felt the first stirrings of a new chapter unfolding.

St. Anne’s church in Weligampitiya, a weathered sentinel of faith, would bear witness to their union — the wedding plans, though modest, pulsed with the vibrant spirit of Sri Lankan Catholic tradition. Visions of aromatic pork curries, the clinking of glasses filled with arrack, and the rhythmic beats of baila music danced in Terrence’s mind.

Yet, as he navigated the maze of wedding preparations, financial worries nipped at his heels like stray dogs in Colombo’s bustling streets. The loan stretched thin, barely covering the shimmering sarees for his bride and bridesmaids and the delicate artistry of their makeup. His suit, crafted by local hands, hung ready — a symbol of his hard-won status.

But fate, ever the mischievous player, had one more card to deal. As Terrence stood before his wardrobe, contemplating his suit, a realisation struck him with the force of a monsoon rain. His best man, the loyal companion meant to stand beside him, remained suitless. In a culture where appearances held sway, this oversight loomed large.

Terrence’s mind raced, calculating and recalculating, trying to conjure funds from the empty air. The joy of his impending nuptials now mingled with a familiar anxiety. How could he ensure his friend was properly attired without the means to provide? The answer eluded him, slippery as a fish in the waters off Weligampitiya’s shores.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of saffron and crimson, Terrence sat on the worn steps of his family home. The scent of frangipani filled the air, a sweet contrast to the bitter taste of his dilemma. He knew that, somehow, he would find a solution. In Sri Lanka, where community bonds run as deep as the island’s history, help often comes from the most unexpected places.

The solution arrived in the form of Denzil, a 19-year-old colleague whose carefree spirit and financial comfort starkly contrasted with Terrence’s careful budgeting. This fair-skinned lad, barely out of boyhood, was known for his generosity — his salary a plaything spent freely on friends, revelry, and an ever-expanding wardrobe. His generosity was a turning point in Terrence's dilemma, a testament to expected help in need.

Terrence and Denzil had grown close since joining the company last year, bonding over their shared Catholic background. Terrence admired the younger man’s affable nature and impeccable fashion sense. As he grappled with his wardrobe, he realised that Denzil’s sartorial expertise might be just the blessing he needed.

With a mixture of hope and hesitation, Terrence approached Denzil. The words tumbled out, a proposition wrapped in the weight of tradition and expectation: would Denzil stand as his best man? The young man’s eyes lit up, his response as swift and bright as a firefly’s flash. He agreed without a moment’s pause, blissfully unaware of the role's responsibilities.

For Denzil, the allure lay in the pageantry — the crisp suit, the attention, and the importance of standing beside the groom. The duties of a best man were as foreign to him as the distant shores beyond Sri Lanka’s coast. But what did that matter? Here was adventure, excitement, a chance to be at the heart of a celebration.

As Terrence watched Denzil’s enthusiastic response, he felt a curious mix of relief and amusement. The young man’s naivety was endearing, his excitement infectious. It struck Terrence that in choosing Denzil, he had not just solved a practical problem but had perhaps added an unpredictable element of joy to his wedding day.

The Sri Lankan sun shone brighter as Terrence left work that day. Sents of cinnamon and clove from a nearby market wafted through the air, mingling with his anticipation. With his best man secured and unknowingly bringing his suit to the proceedings, another piece of the wedding puzzle had fallen into place.

As he walked home, Terrence chuckled, wondering what surprises his young, exuberant best man might bring to the ceremony. Denzil’s presence would surely add a vibrant, if unpredictable, thread to the tapestry of his wedding plans.

Meanwhile, Denzil, a wisp of a young man with his lanky frame stretching towards the sky, embarked on a sartorial adventure. His thin legs carried him swiftly through his city’s bustling streets, his heart pounding with the thrill of his first suit.

Pettah Tailors, nestled in the labyrinth of the new market, was his destination. The shop’s reputation preceded it, whispers of fine craftsmanship drawing discerning customers across his hometown. Denzil stepped inside, inhaling the scent of fresh fabric and ambition. With the confidence of youth, he declared his desire for a blue crimplene suit. The tailor’s eyebrows rose slightly at the bold choice, but he nodded, measuring tape already in hand.

The price — Rs 350 — represented Denzil’s entire month’s wages. He handed the money without hesitation, his fingers barely grasping the notes before they were gone. The sacrifice seemed small compared to the vision of himself in fine blue crimplene.

His next stop was Sunil’s Shoes, where platform shoes in a deep, oceanic blue caught his eye. They would add inches to his already considerable height, making him tower like a king palm over the wedding guests. Another dent in his finances, but Denzil cared not.

The tie, however, proved elusive. His pockets were now empty, and Denzil turned homeward, a plan forming. His father’s tie collection, a riot of colours and patterns, would surely yield a suitable option. He would borrow one, a secret thread connecting him to his family on this day of new beginnings.

As dusk settled over Colombo on the eve of the wedding, Denzil made his way to Terrence’s home. The house buzzed with pre-wedding energy, laughter spilling from open windows. Terrence’s elder brothers and their families had already arrived, the air thick with anticipation.

The aroma of spices wafted from the kitchen, promising tomorrow’s feast. Pork, the centrepiece of any proper Catholic celebration in Sri Lanka, would feature prominently. The brothers, their eyes gleaming with mischief, could hardly contain their excitement. They moved restlessly, like schoolboys before a holiday, eager for the moment when they could raise their glasses of arrack and sink their teeth into succulent, spice-laden pork.

Denzil stepped into this whirlwind of familial joy; his new suit carefully protected in its wrappings. He was greeted with hearty slaps on the back and boisterous welcomes. As the night deepened and stories flowed, Denzil was swept up in the warmth of Terrence’s family, a preview of the coming celebration.

In the kitchen, the women exchanged knowing glances. They had seen many such nights and knew the trajectory of men’s excitement and the inevitable headaches that would follow. But for now, they let the men revel in their anticipation, their preparations for tomorrow proceeding with quiet efficiency.

As Colombo slept, Terrence’s home remained awake, a beacon of joy and expectation in the quiet neighbourhood. Tomorrow would bring new beginnings, but tonight was for family, laughter, and the sweet anticipation of celebrations.

Terrence’s family’s bonds of brotherhood ran deep, a connection as strong as St. Anne’s Church's foundations. His elder brothers, whose wedding days are now memories tinged with nostalgia, were resolute in making this last family wedding a celebration. Their devotion to their faith was matched only by their dedication to each other, a testament to the tight-knit Catholic community that had shaped their lives.

Terrence’s history with St. Anne’s was deeply personal. As a young boy, he had served as an altar boy, his small hands carefully holding sacred vessels, his young voice joining in the responses during Mass. Now, he stood before the same altar, no longer a child but a man ready to embark on a new chapter of his life.

The church, resplendent in its simple beauty, welcomed the wedding party. Sunlight filtered through stained windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the assembled guests. The scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the perfume of flowers adorning the pews.

Resplendent in his new blue crimplene suit and platform shoes, Denzil stood tall beside Terrence. His borrowed tie, a splash of colour against the blue, seemed to pulse with the beating of his nervous heart. As the Mass progressed, Denzil was swept up in the occasion’s solemnity, a far cry from the anticipated exuberant celebration.

The moment of the ring exchange approached. Denzil’s hand trembled slightly as he reached into his pocket, feeling the cool metal of the ring against his fingers. Time seemed to slow as he carefully extracted the symbol of Terrence and his bride’s commitment to each other.

With a grace that belied his youth and inexperience, Denzil presented the ring to Terrence. Their eyes met momentarily — Terrence was filled with gratitude, and Denzil was filled with pride and relief at having fulfilled his crucial role.

As Terrence slipped the ring onto his bride’s finger, his brothers watched from the front pew, their eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was more than just a wedding; it was the closing of one chapter of their family’s story and the beginning of another.

As the priest raised the host during the wedding mass, Denzil’s mind drifted to Terrence’s account of an incident at the mission house when he was an altar boy.

The Mass concluded, and as the newly married couple turned to face their guests, a surge of joy swept through the church. Terrence’s brothers were the first to their feet, their applause thunderous in the hallowed space. Their celebration had only just begun, but already, the day was etched into their hearts, a memory to be treasured for years to come.

Outside, the Sri Lankan sun blazed bright, a benediction on the new couple and a promise of the festivities. The brothers exchanged knowing glances, their thoughts already turning to the reception, where pork and arrack awaited and where they could truly let loose in celebration of their youngest brother’s happiness.

As the wedding festivities wound down, Terrence and his radiant bride departed in an Austin Cambridge, the car’s engine purring with promise as it carried them towards their honeymoon at a nearby resthouse. The newlyweds’ departure left a void in the bustling household, a sudden quiet descending on the rooms that had buzzed with activity for days.

Still cutting a dashing figure in his blue crimplene suit, Denzil found himself at a crossroads. While well-intentioned, the invitation to stay at Terrence’s home held little appeal for the young man. The prospect of sharing a room, likely with one of Terrence’s boisterous brothers or their children, seemed stifling to Denzil’s free spirit.

As he pondered his predicament, his gaze wandered to the neighbouring house. There, Terrence’s first cousins resided — a young boy and a girl, siblings, both hovering on the cusp of adulthood like Denzil himself. With her laughing eyes and quick wit, the girl had caught Denzil’s attention earlier in the day. The boy, closer to Denzil’s age, promised the easy camaraderie of youth.

A plan began to form in Denzil’s mind, as swift and spontaneous as a sudden monsoon shower. With the smooth charm that came naturally to him, Denzil approached Terrence’s relatives. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he spun a tale of discomfort at the prospect of staying in the now-quiet house of the newlyweds.

The cousins, caught up in the lingering excitement of the wedding and intrigued by this dashing friend of Terrence, readily agreed to host Denzil for the night. Their parents were still swept up in the day’s events, and the generosity of spirit accompanying such occasions offered no objection.

As night fell over the neighbourhood, Denzil found himself in the lively company of the cousins. The house rang with laughter as they shared stories, and the wedding provided ample material for discussion and jest. Denzil regaled them with tales from the ceremony, embellishing his role as best man with each retelling.

In the warm Sri Lankan night, with the scent of frangipani drifting through open windows, Denzil felt a sense of belonging. Here, among peers who teetered on the same edge of adulthood, he could be himself — free from the best man’s responsibilities and elders' watchful eyes.

As he settled into a borrowed bed, Denzil smiled to himself. The wedding may have ended, but it seemed the adventure was beginning for him. New friendships took root in the house next door, promising a future filled with youthful escapades and shared secrets.

Meanwhile, in a quiet resthouse, Terrence and his bride began their new life together, blissfully unaware of the small drama unfolding back home. The wheels of life turned, bringing great and small changes in the vibrant tapestry of their Sri Lankan community.

The morning sun filtered through the windows as Terrence and his bride returned, their faces glowing with newlywed bliss. Denzil was sprawled on the sofa, pretending to be engrossed in yesterday’s newspaper.

Terrence pulled Denzil aside, his voice low and brotherly. “Listen, mali, about my cousin’s next door… best not to visit too often, eh? Their parents might get ideas.” He winked, but Denzil could sense the protective undercurrent in his words. Denzil nodded, filing away this adult wisdom he didn’t quite understand.

Soon after, Terrence’s wife busied herself in the kitchen, emerging with a steaming cup of tea. The aroma of Ceylon’s finest filled the room. But instead of taking the cup, Terrence caught her hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something else Denzil couldn’t name.

What happened next left Denzil baffled. Terrence, seemingly forgetting his presence, brought his wife’s hand to his lips in a gesture beyond any show of affection Denzil had witnessed before. His eyes widened, and he quickly averted his gaze, suddenly finding the pattern on the floor tiles fascinating.

A thousand questions raced through Denzil’s mind. Was this what married life looked like? The intimacy, the unspoken language between them, was a world he couldn’t fathom. He felt like an intruder in a secret garden, witnessing something not meant for young eyes.

As Denzil fumbled for an excuse to leave the room, he realised adulthood was a far more complex landscape than he had imagined. It seemed that the wedding was the beginning of a journey into a world he was only starting to glimpse.