Advice for Liz Hurley

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Belinda Rhodes steps out as a married woman By Belinda Rhodes Liz Hurley is in the midst of her week-long marriage festivities in Jodhpur. What's it like to be an English bride at an Indian wedding?

My friends and family had jetted in from half a dozen countries, the ladies among them were off buying glamorous silk saris, the mehendi artists were gathering around the pool to paint our hands with henna - my Indian wedding started out a lot like Liz Hurley's.

Yet I wonder if her in-laws-to-be were as anxious as mine. It was my first trip to India and they were wondering how I would handle the heat, the two days of ceremonies, and the heavy red and gold wedding sari. I would have to sit still for hours while 500 guests blessed my husband and me.

Hands painted with hennaYet the only advice I was given was to practise splitting coconuts with a knife as I would have to do this on the big day, and to keep a demure demeanour during the ceremony.

Not to say I wasn't having fun. Picking out lavish saris for myself and my friends from one of Bangalore's many wonderful shops was a delight. The traditional mehendi party for the women - something Liz Hurley and her friends will also have enjoyed - was an orgy of painted peacocks, exquisite blossoms and mouth-watering south Indian food.

Show of valour

It was my brother who was losing sleep.

MULTIPLE WEDDINGS Like Liz and Arun, Belinda and Madhav married first in EnglandThis wasn't seen as a 'proper' wedding by elders in his familySo before the Indian ceremony, the couple had separate roomsIndian families often spend a lifetime's saving on festivities As my only male relative at the wedding, he was responsible for hacking down the stumps of several banana trees with an extremely sharp ceremonial knife. It was important that he should completely sever each stump with a single blow, for they represented the suitors I could have married. Would there be any rehearsal? No. No time, no spare stumps.

I doubt that Hurley's brother will be called upon to do this; my husband's family belong to a small tribe known as the Kodavas (Coorgs in English) who come from a hilly region of south India and have their own unique customs. Like most Indians, they take great pride in their traditions, especially those surrounding a wedding, and banana stumps there would be.

So, while I was hauling piles of saris back to my in-laws' home, choosing between purple and pink for the first day of the wedding, my brother was looking more and more tired.

My only problem was the sari shop owner's reaction when I returned all but three to the shop. "Only three, for a bride?" he asked with obvious disappointment.

Candle-lit ceremony

The first day of the wedding went splendidly. I emerged from my hotel room with my posse of Western girls in saris bathed in the light of hundreds of candles floating in the swimming pool.

Trying to look demureAt a short ceremony I received my mother's blessing to marry my husband, and he his mother's permission to marry me (there is no pandit - or priest - in a Coorg wedding). It was a beautiful night. Our budget may not have matched Liz and Arun's, but like most Indians, my in-laws weren't skimping on the cost.

The day of the main ceremony dawned. My husband and I were "bathed" by his aunts, dressed in layer upon layer of silk and gold, and received further blessings from the family. Then it was time for my brother's show of valour.

Not allowed to watch, I had to wait nervously in a nearby room. Various servants came by to admire me and remove the "evil eye" from me. Then I heard whoops of glee, and peering through a crack, saw my brother waving a huge knife in the air whilst dancing ecstatically around three cleanly severed banana stumps. Now he could relax, but I still had to do the "looking demure" part.

Liz celebrates with Shilpa ahead of her wedding on FridayAs I entered the blessing hall, despite the heat and the hundreds of guests, I couldn't help smiling. There were flowers everywhere, the scent of jasmine and marigolds, and I was about to take my seat beside my handsome Indian groom. One of his aunts leapt from the audience and gently tilted my chin down: "Look demure."

The blessing ceremony was not as arduous as my in-laws had feared. Even the coconut splitting ritual went fine; it took me six blows to break it open, but that was no bad thing - it meant I would have six children. Although it was strange at times to be at the centre of a whirl of ceremonies I didn't quite understand, I had a great day.

My advice to Liz? Do your best to look demure, but failing that, look happy.