groom calls his attendants to bring his shoes, but it is found that one of them is missing. Some one declares that she knows who possesses the shoe and that it will be duly returned on payment of two gold coins.
The bride-groom is rescued from his tormentors after the payments are made.
Then he goes away and joins the concert of the merry-makers in the shadi khāna. There his place is a dignified one, for he sits on the right-hand side of the head of the Clan. It is very amusing to see the audience of merry-makers. The old men occupy seats next to the bride-groom; the other seats are graduated according to the age. No employees are allowed to sit, and servants carry cups of green tea to whoever may want one. The elderly men are seen swaying from side to side accompanying a couplet from molanay rūm, for they see the profound meanings in it. Some throw money to the singers. The youths on each side sit with gaping mouths and scribble down on the white floorcloth or pillow covers such couplets as strike them as particularly good, but they cannot read their writing when the concert is over. An eccentric old man yells out with closed eyes "bāz hekham, bāz bekham, sarād khūb ast," "Sing it again, sing it again, your voice and the song stir my very soul." The song is encored again and again, till the singer gets stupefied and forgets the couplets. In this manner affairs in the Song Hall progress from hour to hour. In the small hours of the morning you find instead of enthusiastic lovers of music, clumps of snorting youths lying rolled in their voluminous postīns or fur coats. Some may have even used the carpets to keep themselves warm. The best singer has retired, and one who had already had two or three rounds is endeavouring to make people believe that his hoarse voice is musical.
At dawn comes another ceremony. It is announced that the bride is about to depart to her mother-in-law's house. All are roused and make ready to escort her. If
