Lunch was over. Srikala was clearing the table; her husband of a fortnight Vasanth was reclining on the sofa feeling pleasantly replete. It was a splendid meal. For his wife, one only recently out of college, to produce a meal of this quality was surprising. The biriyani was done just the way Vasanth liked it with the rice not discrete as professional cooks like to prepare, but overcooked to just that stickiness to fully soak in the spices; tikka chicken hot but not too hot, and the payasam to end the meal, thick but not creamy, with raisins and cashew not bothering you at every bite but appearing just when you need them. The dishes were his favourite ones too. In short it was a perfect lunch. He wondered if all this could have happened by chance.
"No way," said Srikala when he queried her, "Athai (Tamil for mother-in-law) not only told me your favourites, but also how you liked them done. And to avoid one more question let me tell you that I cook well because I love to cook."
"What more can a husband want?"
"There is more," she said.
"More?"
"Much more."
"Much more?"
"Much much more. You have to wait." It was all pleasantly mysterious.
2
It was a traditionally arranged match. Srikala was from the hill station of Coonoor four hundred miles from Chennai in South India. It was Vasanth's uncle from Coonoor who brought the offer. This uncle reckoned that Vasanth's father's distant cousin's daughter was a good match for Vasanth. Any friend or relative can bring offers, and most consider it a duty and a pleasure to do so. As the initiators they are made much of during the wedding. They strut about like peacocks, and cherish the success in the manner of big-game hunters after a successful shoot. The parents of the boy and the girl now have to 'process' the offer. Vasanth's parents were satisfied with the socio-economic status and the reputation of the family. The age of the girl at twenty-two was just right, and her qualifications were good too. She was a graduate in English language and literature. The girl's people were looking for much the same features in the boy plus the critical factor of the vocation of the boy. He was a mechanical engineer, and that was good. The uncle arranged the date for girl to meet the boy. The place of the meeting as per tradition was the home of the girl. Soon Vasanth and his parents were on their way to Coonoor.
Vasanth's parents liked the neat cottage the uncle took them to. Soon they were all comfortably reclining on sofas in the hall. The hall in South Indian middle class homes is the family room and living room combined. The parents of the girl and an uncle were there. Uncles are needed in such meetings for parents in their anxiety to do the best for their children are not usually able to balance the pros and cons correctly. The girl will not be present at his stage. She would come later. They talked about everything other than what had brought them to the place. After fifteen minutes the mother of the girl suggested that they have snacks and coffee. Snacks on these occasions are usually dry items. It is inauspicious to wash hands. Tension in the room was mounting for this was the time for the girl to appear carrying the tray with coffee. She came with measured treads for to overturn the tray may not be a good idea. The girl looked coyly down as instructed by her mother; the boy was at liberty to look, but his mother had told him not to stare 'for the eyes of her parents would be on you'. First she served the seniors and then finally the boy. She looked up and they made the first eye contact. The girl took a seat next to him on a chair kept vacant for her, and set at an angle so that they face each other and talk. They spoke a few words. Later both said they had no recollection of what they spoke. After another fifteen minutes of pointless chatting the visitors took leave.
People brought up in cultures where arranged matches are unknown would be surprised that a commitment lasting for life could be arrived at after so cursory a visit. It was not cursory by any means. Before the meeting the parents analyse the offer in great detail. Vasanth's father made extensive enquiries of everyone he knew in the Nilgiri Hills where Coonoor was located, and from his other relatives who knew the family. Srikala's parents, as parents of the girl, made even more searching enquiries. Later in the uncle's house where Vasanth's family was staying as his guest the following conversation took place:
"They are OK," said father. "The girl would suit our Vasanth."
"No encumbrances," said mother. "Their only daughter is married and has two lovely children. Srikala's mother showed me the snap. She lives near New York." Unmarried sisters of the girl belong to the category of encumbrances. Srikala had no brothers. If present Vasanth's mother would not have classed them encumbrances. "Quite a pretty girl," she added.
"The only issue is they have no sons," said father. In the absence of sons the daughters have to look after the aging parents. As Vasanth was their only child the father did not look forward to the probability of spending his last days in the company of his son's father-in-law and mother-in-law.
"Of course if they get their green cards they can live in the States." It was Vasanth speaking.
"Vasanth likes the girl. He has already started defending his in-laws," said father and both husband and wife laughed. In due course the uncle informed them that the girl's party was willing too.
If Srikala was a Chennai dweller Vasanth would certainly have got to know her better by visiting her in her home, and may be taking her to the beach and even a movie or two; but Coonoor was too far away and they had to keeping in touch by emails. The uncle who brought about the alliance had more to do. He will be the conduit for information from to-be-bride's people to Vasanth's parents, and back to them. The marriage has to be in the brides place and the boy's people have to indicate the number of invitees for whom the bride's party must make arrangements. The parties have to discuss and decide about sari selection, jewels and many other details. Amidst these ancient customs there was a modern one that uncle promptly attended to: He gave Srikala's email ID to Vasanth.
Vasanth got the ball rolling. They had three weeks to fill. His opening email was formal, may be too formal. But he did attach his photograph and requested her to send hers. He of course had the photograph they had sent even before the bride viewing, but after seeing her in person he did not think that the photograph did justice to her. He hinted as much in the letter. The reply did not come as early as Vasanth could have wished, but when it did Srikala had her photo attached to it. Vasanth worked the picture in Photoshop and swiftly concluded that one cannot gild rose. Emails from once a day quickly shot to several a day, and nights too. It was mostly about themselves they wrote. Significantly no endearing sentiments found a place in these letters. It did not belong to the category of letters that wives in Western culture tie with a blue (or is it pink) ribbon and keep secure under the clothes in the dresser.
One afternoon Vasanth and his parents went to George Town in Chennai to select the card to print the invitations. There were scores of shops in one street all stacked from floor to ceiling with varieties of designs to suit every taste. Selection was difficult, but on Vasanth's insistence, father selected a simple design. Vasanth took it to the printer and from hundreds of samples the printer had in his albums he selected a neat font. Meanwhile the list of recipients was ready. Distribution was another difficult task. Both father and mother must personally visit senior members of the family and hand over the invitation. To some it is enough if one of them hands it over. To some postal invitation is adequate but a phone call reminder is necessary. The rest will be satisfied with postal invitations. Personal invitation is a double-edged sword; those so honoured have to attend, or to avoid causing ill feelings they have to furnish a good reason for not attending.
The arrangements went on without a hitch. As Coonoor was a small town the crowds were manageable, and Coonoor being a hill station had the added advantage that one can don Western style suit with jacket and tie with comfort.
It was past ten when Vasanth and his bride got into a car that was to take them to Mudumalai Wild Life Sanctuary Rest House on the other side of the mountain for a three-day honeymoon arranged by Srikala's father, a retired forest officer. The couple received a warm welcome from the hotel and soon they were in the room, alone and by themselves for the first time.
3
