This is India (rolling heads and flaming lips) - Mammallapurum, Tamil Nadu, India

Down the hill, in the distance beyond the ancient ruins drums were beating and voices were chanting with vivacious intensity. 

We were in Mammallapurum, Tamil Nadu, a World Heritage Site renowned for its rock carvings and temples. It had also been seriously damaged by the Boxing Day Tsunami. The coastline is littered with crumbling houses neglected and deserted in the wake of the disaster. Almost everyone Richard and I speak with has been affected, but the locals are resilient. Relief work and life continues. We had arrived here more or less on a whim, an excursion before embarking for the Andaman Islands. My expectations for Mammallapurum were neither high, nor low.

Richard and I followed the music. Sweat soaked through my shirt as the sun pierced my skin. It was hot. The drums became louder. We were near. I started to run, closer and closer. A smile crept on my face, I was positive we were about to crash an Indian wedding. Richard and I approached the crowded mass of Indians. A local man saw us, nodded in approval and encouraged us to enjoy the celebration. 

The chanting echoed in my ears. The drums vibrated throughout my body. I squeezed through the crowd. A man wielding a machete had it above his head, ready for attack. He struck. The eyes of a terrified goat met mine, mere seconds before his death. It's head rolled to the side like a football. Blood squirted and sprayed from its neck and into the crowd. I jumped back to avoid contact. 

There wasn't a bride nor groom in site. This was definitely not an Indian wedding.

The Sadhus brought another goat to the alter, and another, until 5 or 6 lay still, their bodies detached from their heads. Men and women in trances yelled in a foreign tongue, their bodies collapsing to the floor. The scene was manic. More bodies wriggled about like earth worms into the temple, another man collapses. This time I don't think it's "normal." The locals huddle around, rinsing the Holy Man with water. Another Sadhu places a large flaming tablet on his tongue. It's burning and I could see the intensity coursing through his body. He swallowed the fire and collapses in an exhausted heap. They pour water on his burnt mouth. 

I was surrounded by drumming, chanting, Sadhus, blood, goats' heads, men, women and children. No, it wasn't an Indian wedding Richard and I stumbled upon, but a celebration, for what, however, I've absolutely no idea. This is after all, India.