In the evening there was some exquisite music that flowed smoothly on a silk-soft winter breeze with a burning torch ahead, duly abetted by oil.
As God went out with his wives on the palanquin, a bamboo stick went musical in its circular holes and a goatskin went into fever long after its death.
Pig-tailed men carried their God on shoulders. The torch burnt the night till it smelled like flowers.