‘Yes, initially we had a big shock. But Krish lived in Chennai for six months. Once we knew him, we were OK,’ Ananya’s mother said in her naturally stern voice.
‘What OK? You must be jumping with joy inside. Where will you find such a qualified boy like him?’ my mother said. I prayed Ananya’s mother wouldn’t bite at the bait. Of course, she did.
‘Actually, we do get qualified boys. Tamils value education a lot. All her uncles are engineers or doctors. Ananya had many matches from the USA.’
‘Yeah, but they must be all dark boys. Were there any as fair as Krish? Looks-wise you cannot match Punjabis,’ my mother said, without any apparent viciousness in her voice. I almost choked on the spaghetti in my mouth.
‘Mom, they changed dessert today,’ I coughed, ‘do you like bread pudding?’
‘And my brothers are also doing well,’ my mother said. ‘Ask Ananya what a wedding she has attended. They gave a Santro to the groom. You may have landed my son, but it doesn’t mean he has no value.’
Ananya imitated a stunned goldfish while I shook my head to deny responsibility for that statement.
‘We haven’t trapped anyone,’ Ananya’s mother said finally. ‘He used to keep coming to our house. We are decent people so we couldn’t say no.’
‘Mom,’ Ananya said.
‘Why should I be quiet and get falsely accused? We haven’t trapped anyone. Aren’t we suffering? We all know Krish’s father is against this. Our relatives will ask. Still we are accepting it,’ Ananya’s mother said.
‘What are you accepting? You don’t even deserve my boy,’ my mother said, her voice nice and loud.
‘Please don’t shout. We are educated people,’ Ananya’s father said.
‘Are you saying we are not educated?’ my mother challenged.
‘He meant “we” as in all of us, right, uncle? We are all educated,’ I hastily put in.
‘Will you continue to take their side and clap while your mother gets insulted?’ my mother asked.
‘No mom,’ I said, wondering if I had taken sides. ‘I won’t.’
Ananya’s family spoke to each other in Tamil. Uncle looked especially distressed as he took short, jerky breaths.
‘My father is not well. We will go back to our room,’ Ananya said.
I looked at him in alarm.
‘Krish, we will see you later,’ Ananya added.
‘Mom,’ I said in protest after they left.
‘What? Is there bread pudding? Let’s get some,’ she said.
My mother and I came back to our room. She pretended nothing had happened.
‘How does this remote work? I want to watch my serial,’ she said.
‘Mom, you could have behaved better there,’ I said.
My mother didn’t answer in words. She responded in nuclear weapons. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Oh please,’ I said.
My mother didn’t respond. She switched to her favourite soap where a son was throwing his old parents out of his house. She cried along with the TV parents, correlating their situation to hers. Yeah right, she was staying in Park Hyatt and ate four kinds of ice-creams and bread pudding for dessert. But, of course, all sons are villains playing into the hands of their wives.
‘We can’t have a conversation if you watch this stupid serial,’ I said.
‘This is not stupid. This is hundred percent reality,’ she retorted.
I switched off the TV. My mother folded her hands. ‘Please have mercy on me,’ she said, ‘don’t subject me to this.’
The doorbell rang. I opened the door. Ananya stood there, her face equally wreathed in tears. When estrogen attacks you on all sides, there is not much you can do.
‘What happened?’ I said.
‘Dad’s chest is hurting,’ Ananya said, fighting back her sobs.
‘Should I call a doctor?’ I said.
‘No, he is fine now. But something else can help.’
‘What?’ I said.
‘Is your mom inside? Can I talk to her?’ she said.
‘Sure.’ I stepped back.
Ananya came in and told my mother who was sitting on the bed, ‘Aunty, I think you should apologise to my parents.’
‘Yes it is always my fault,’ my mother mocked, looking at me for support.
‘Aunty, please don’t generalise. We spent four hours in Panjim today buying gifts for you. My parents did whatever Krish asked us to do.’
‘What?’ my mother said.
‘Aunty, you have insulted them. They have not trapped anyone. They were dead against Krish to begin with. And now they have accepted him, they’d like some dignity.’
‘I am not. . . .’ my mother started to talk.
‘OK, enough,’ I said.
Both the women turned to me.
‘Get your parents here,’ I said, ‘let’s talk this straight. Everyone has hurt everyone.’
‘No Krish, today my parents didn’t do anything,’ Ananya said.
My mother went into the bathroom.
‘Ananya, try and understand,’ I whispered. ‘You push my mother into a corner, it will get worse. Let’s make it a mutual apology.’ I walked Ananya to the door.
‘I don’t like this,’ Ananya said at the door.
‘Bring everyone here, please,’ I said.
I came back into the room. My mother had washed her face.
‘I’ve called all of them here. Let’s have a frank talk,’ I said.
She kept quiet.
‘What’s up, mom? Say something,’ I said. I wanted my mother to vent out before Ananya arrived with her parents.
‘You saw Ananya? Have you seen any girl talk to her mother-in-law like that?’ my mother demanded.
‘She is a little feminist type, I admit,’ I said.
‘She is telling me to apologise. Can you imagine Minti talking to Duke’s mother like that?’
‘She is different. She is confident, independent and intelligent. But she is caring and sensitive too.’
‘She is too intelligent to be a good daughter-in-law.’
I had no clue how to respond to that, but I had to calm her. ‘She isn’t that intelligent, mom,’ I assured her. ‘She did economics, but I beat her in that subject.’
‘We don’t have bahus in Punjabis like that, no matter how high-profile. We keep them straight,’ my mother said.
‘So we will too,’ I said, to pacify her.
‘She is out of control.’
‘Mom, she is with her parents here. But I am marrying only her; once she comes to our house, we can control her. You only say, no, that South Indians are docile and scared,’ I said whatever my mother needed to hear.
‘I don’t want my daughter-in-law to raise her voice or answer me back. She has to be under my thumb.’
‘Fine, make her toe the line’ I said, ‘but be normal now.’
‘I heard that,’ Ananya said, her face red. Ananya stood there with her parents. Damn, I hadn’t shut the door after Ananya left.
‘Ananya? I didn’t realise you were here,’ I said.
‘And I didn’t realise what I was doing. So, I will be taught to toe the line after marriage. Well done, Krish, it’s not just your mother, it is you as well,’ Ananya said.
‘Ananya, I. . . .’ Both women stared at me with tear-ready eyes, ready to shoot their ultimate emotional laser weapon.
Ananya’s father tapped his wife’s shoulder, signalling departure.
‘I told my parents your mother will apologise. But you guys are making bigger plans,’ Ananya said and walked out of the room with her parents.
I ran out and caught up with Ananya. ‘Wait, where are you going?’
‘We’re done,’ she said, her words firm despite the wobbly voice.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s over,’ Ananya clarified, ‘between you and me.’
‘Are you breaking up with me? What? Ananya, are you crazy? I was manipulating her so she’d calm down.’
‘I hate manipulations, Krish, and I hate manipulators even more,’ Ananya said and broke into tears.
Ananya’s father came towards us and held Ananya’s hand. ‘It’s not about communities. It’s about the kind of people we want to be with,’ he said.
I stood alone in the corridor as Ananya’s family walked away and the ground tilted around my feet.
Needless to say, Operation Beach Passion was not executed that night.
The Final Act:
Delhi & Chennai & Delhi & Chennai
54
I turned workaholic after Goa, spending fourteen maniacal hours a day in the office. I even brought the company laptop home to slog more. I achieved twice my work targets, I didn’t socialise, I didn’t see movies and I stopped going to restaurants.
‘You have a great future,’ Rannvijay, my new boss, told me.
When Citibank sees a great future in you, it means you have no life at present. ‘Thanks, Rannvijay,’ I said.
‘Though you could do with a shave. What’s with the new look? Growing a beard? And you look weak. . . . Take care of your health.’
I had tried to call Ananya several times after my return. Her parents would not pass her the phone if I called home. In her office, the receptionist would tell me she was in a meeting. When I did reach her, she’d make an excuse and not converse. Ananya had a cell-phone now, but she had stopped taking any calls from Delhi. One day I had a visitor in office from Citibank Mumbai. I requested him for his phone to make a call.
‘Hello,’ Ananya picked up the phone.
‘Hi, don’t hang up. It’s me,’ I said.
‘Krish, please . . . whose phone is this?’
‘A colleague from the Mumbai office. Listen, I am sorry, for the tenth time. Your receptionist will have a count of my earlier attempts.’
‘Krish, this isn’t about an apology.’
‘Then stop sulking.’
‘I am not sulking; I am doing what maximises everyone’s happiness in the long term.’
I scratched my head to respond to her corporate-vision type answer. ‘What about you and me?’
‘For my own sake, I can’t let make my parents feel small.’
‘Don’t you miss me?’ I said.
She kept silent. I checked the phone; I had spent four minutes on the call. My colleague gave me puzzled looks as to why I had to use his phone.
‘Ananya? I said, do you miss me?’
‘What’s the point? Say, I forgive you, what will change? Will your mother change? Will her bias towards me, towards South Indians, towards the girl’s side, change?’
‘She is good at heart, Ananya. Believe me she is,’ I said.
‘Oh really, why don’t you have her apologise to my parents then?’ she said.
It was my turn to stay silent.
‘See,’ she said.
‘She is sensitive about everything right now.’
‘No, she has a chip on her shoulder about being from the groom’s side.’
I let out a sigh. ‘Ananya, what happened to our plans to elope? Run away with me,’ I said.
‘And go where? To my caring, nurturing mother-in-law?’ Ananya said, ‘No, I want to marry where my parents are treated as equals.’
‘You should have been born a boy,’ I said.
‘That’s so sexist, I would have hung up if I didn’t care for you.’
‘Do you care or not? Don’t you love me? Isn’t our love above everything?’
‘Don’t ask impractical questions,’ she said, her voice heavy.
‘Can I do anything? Anything?’ I said desperately.
‘Don’t call me again. Help me get over this,’ she said.
‘I love you,’ I said.
‘Bye, Krish.’
I came home and sat down in front of the TV. For dysfunctional families, television is the biggest boon. Without this electronic glue, millions of Indian families will fall apart.
The music channels showed songs of everlasting love. The couples seemed insanely happy. Perhaps, they were all from the same state, religion, caste and culture and their parents were completely in sync with each other. Otherwise, how can you fall in love in India? Some grown-ups in your house are bound to get pissed off.
My mother didn’t talk about Goa or show any signs of remorse. She did feel a little guilty about my low mood; her penance consisted of cooking paneer dishes everyday.
‘I’ve made paneer bhurji. You’ll have paranthas with it?’ she said.
I didn’t respond. She took my lack of protest for a yes. She returned with dinner in twenty minutes. ‘You want white butter?’ my mother asked.
I shook my head.
‘Too much work in office? There is a Canara Bank near our house. Should I talk to the manager for a job?’
‘No, office is OK,’ I said.
I tried to eat, but couldn’t. I had not eaten anything for three days. I hid the paranthas in my laptop bag when she wasn’t looking.
‘Shipra masi has recommended another girl. They have a bungalow in Shalimar Bagh. Would you like to see her?’ she said.
I stared at my mother.
‘What?’ she said.
‘I’ll marry her. No need to see her. Fine?’ I said.
‘Krish, don’t say like that. When have I forced you?’
‘What is the point of me seeing these girls? What am I supposed to check out in one hour? Her complexion? Figure – fat or slim? Is the marble in her home real? None of this matters when you have to spend your life with a person, so might as well save time. The parents should do the meeting. Whoever massages your ego more, say yes.’
‘What has happened to you? These multinationals are sucking your blood,’ my mother said.
‘Can you apologise to Ananya’s parents?’ I said.
My mother didn’t respond. She stood up from the sofa and went into the kitchen.
I followed her ‘Why can’t you do it?’ I said.
She didn’t answer me. She dabbed at dishwashing detergent with a sponge and scrubbed the utensils. She addressed an imaginary audience: ‘First a useless husband, now a useless son. I had thought, after my son’s marriage I will get respect. I said yes to his choice of girl, but at least behave like the girl’s side. Now he wants me to fall at their feet. What is so great about this girl? Shipra is right, everyone is selfish.’
‘Stop it, mom, I am not telling you to grovel. You can apologise over the phone.’
‘Apologise for what? Is it wrong to expect what is due to me? Didn’t I look after your grandmother until she died?’
‘Didn’t Ananya help set Duke’s family right? Didn’t you say yes then?’
‘I was wrong. I hadn’t met her parents then. I’ve never met such a dry breed of people. Look at how they eat dinner, like it is a punishment. Ananya’s mother – does she ever laugh? Dark from outside, dark from inside.’
The doorbell rang. My father had come back from another of his lacklustre business ventures. I switched off the TV and opened the door. I had told him the partial truth about Goa. I had said there was an office conference there and that I was taking mom along. I had become quiet after my return and didn’t even bother to fight with him anymore. He came inside and noticed the silence between my mother and me. There were several evenings these days at home when no one spoke to anyone.
‘Have you decided to stop talking to your mother, too?’ my father asked as he sat on the sofa and removed his shoes.
It’s none of your business, would have been my usual response. But I had fought enough with the world. Another argument wouldn’t have yielded anything.
‘We’ll be fine,’ I said. I wished my mother would bring his dinner soon.
‘Are you not enjoying your job?’ my father said.
‘The job is good. They said I’ve a great future,’ I said. I don’t know why I said the last line. Somehow, I felt the need to tell my father I was doing well.
‘Why are you upset with your mother?’ he said.
; OK, it was enough. ‘It’s none of your business,’ I said.
‘Are you telling me my own family is not my business?’ he said.
‘Dad, enough. I am too tired to argue.’
My mother brought him dinner and I went back to my room. I took out Ananya’s pictures. I tossed and turned in bed wondering what to do next. When you can’t sleep, your mind comes up with weird schemes. I couldn’t do it over the phone. I had to go in person to do it.
I woke up at four and took a shower.
‘You are going to office now?’ my mother said as she heard me get ready.
‘I have a presentation, I’ll be back late,’ I said.
I took an auto to the airport. I plonked a month’s salary to take my cross-country joyride.
‘Same day return trip to Chennai please,’ I said at the Indian Airlines counter.
55
Chennai seemed embarrassingly familiar on my second trip. I could throw in Tamil terms and negotiate with autos, I knew the main roads. I reached Ananya’s office at eleven.
‘Hi, I’m Krish,’ I said to the receptionist.
‘Oh, that Krish,’ she said and called Ananya.
Ananya came out. I opened my arms to embrace her, but she shook hands.
‘I came for the day,’ I said, as we sat in the HLL cafeteria.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘What’s with the unshaven look? And why do you seem so weak? Are you sick?’
‘I want to meet your parents,’ I said.
‘There is no use. No matter how charming you are, they don’t trust you anymore,’ Ananya said.
‘Do you trust me?’
‘Irrelevant,’ she said.
‘I’ll go to your place,’ I said.
‘Don’t, Harish’s parents are in town. They will visit my parents today.’
I took a deep breath to keep my temper in control. ‘At least spend the day with me,’ I said.
‘I can’t. I have work. Besides, it is not good for my parents’ reputation.’
Blood rushed up my face. ‘What reputation? What about Ahmedabad? What about when you’d lie to them to meet me in Chennai? What about Ratna Stores?’ My voice was as loud as my body was tired.
She stood up. ‘Please don’t create a scene at my workplace.’
2 States: The Story of My Marriage Page 24