“What a hardworking boy,” Ammamma said, buying into the cock-and-bull story. “See, Priya, that is the kind of boy girls want to marry. And Adarsh is like that. His mother told me that he used to study until four in the morning every day to pass the BITS Pilani entrance exam. Hardworking boys make good husbands.”
First, BITS Pilani, unlike all other engineering colleges in India, did not have an entrance exam; admission was granted based on 12th class exam results. Second, I couldn’t figure out the connection between hard work and good husband; I knew several hardworking guys at work who I was positive would make awful husbands.
“Pass the sambhar, Priya Ma,” Nanna said, looking at me curiously. “So, what did you think of Adarsh?”
“What do you mean, what did she think?” Ma demanded. “She-”
“Radha, I want to know what she thought,” Nanna interrupted Ma. It was a ploy; he knew I couldn’t speak my mind here, in front of all these people.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I spent all of ten minutes with him. It’s hard for me to say what he’s like.”
Ma’s face twisted and she glared at me.
“No, seriously,” I said, “you expect me to marry this man and I don’t even get a chance to talk to him before Nanna shows up asking if he wants chai.”
“How much time would you need?” Thatha asked. “A whole day? A year? Priya, marriage is what all that time is for.”
“Not in my world,” I said easily. “I don’t want to risk marrying the wrong man because tradition expected me to not know him before marriage. I can’t take that chance.”
“We all took that chance and we have done just fine,” Ammamma said.
I shook my head. “Please, I don’t want to discuss this.”
“Why?” Ma asked.
I was about to tell her exactly why when in pure movie fashion, the phone rang. Sowmya got up and went into the hall to answer it. It was for my father.
Nanna came back, a 1,000-watt smile on his face. “They said yes,” he said, beaming at me, and I felt as if a basketful of raw mangoes fell on top of my head.
You Can’t Make Mango Pickle with Tomatoes
Everyone was very excited for the remainder of the dinner, making wedding plans and discussing how everything would have to be done fast-fast. Sowmya, Lata, and I sat somberly looking at each other. I had never expected it, but Lata and I were suddenly on the same side, while Nanna had joined the evil one on the dark side.
“They want to take the tamboolalu in the next two days and we can set the marriage date for…” Nanna said, looking at me, gauging my reaction.
“Ah, Priya can get more holiday,” Ma said, overjoyed that finally all her efforts were coming to fruition. “What, Priya, your American boss won’t give extra holiday for your own wedding?”
“Now all we need is for Vinay to say yes to Sowmya,” Ammamma said, the loose skin around her jaw jumping around like Jell-O. “A double wedding… ah… a double wedding.”
Ma leaned over to me and whispered, “They want a double wedding so that they can reduce cost, but we won’t have any of it, okay. Big wedding for my daughter,” she said and then smiled. She kissed me on the forehead, pleased, I think, more with herself than with me. “Big wedding,” she said, flushed, the happiness vibrating through her nauseating me with its consequences.
The blood roared in my ears; I could hear what everyone was saying but I couldn’t quite comprehend anything. The boy said yes? Why on earth would he do that? Didn’t I try my best to put him off?
“At that new reception hall,” Jayant was saying, “where that actress… What’s her name, Lata?”
“We have to shop for saris,” Ammamma was saying. “Can’t go to Madras, not enough time… Chandana Brothers will have to do”
“I have all the jewelry ready,” Ma was saying. “Everything is ready… ”
“Priya Ma,” Nanna’s voice reached my ear and something snapped inside me. This man loved me and he was entitled to the truth.
“I can’t marry Adarsh,” I said as the last hands were being washed in silver and steel plates. “Or anyone else you want me to marry,” I spoke over Ma’s tirade of objections and curses. “I came to India at this time to tell you all that I’m in love with an American and I plan to marry him. We’re engaged.” I showed them the winking diamond on my finger, which I put back on after the pelli-chupulu.
Silence fell in the room and then suddenly conversation rose like the small buzz of a mosquito raging into a zillion buzzing mosquitoes.
Nanna stood up unsteadily. “You hurt me, Priya Ma,” he said and walked out of the dining room, the hall, and, finally, Thatha’s house with the creak of Thatha’s noisy gate and the small roar of his Fiat.
And with those simple words, Nanna broke my heart as well. The tears I had been holding back raced down my cheeks. Nate had been right; telling Nanna was very hard. It was harder to see Thatha sit rigidly, his expression unfathomable. I had opened all the doors to hell for my father and grandfather. That was the way they probably looked at what I am sure they saw as the ultimate defection.
“American?” Ma was dumbfounded. “American?” she repeated. She had already said that a few times, as if questioning it several times would change it.
I started to help Sowmya clear up the dining table while Ammamma just kept making sounds and Jayant sat quietly sipping water from a steel glass.
I knew that this was the lull before the storm. This was the quiet after which nothing would be the same again. It had been done and now I was scared that they would stop loving me. They would tell me to go away, like family did in movies, and never set foot in their house again.
I stood at the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area, while Sowmya and Lata rinsed the dishes, whispering to each other.
“Just because you are wearing some ring, doesn’t mean you are engaged,” Ma said, her voice strained and thin. “This boy… Adarsh is perfect. You will marry him before you leave and that is that. You will forget this American and-”
“It isn’t that simple, Ma,” I spoke over her words. In the kitchen, the sounds of water and steel clashing stopped and when I didn’t say anything else the sounds resumed.
There was silence while Lata and Sowmya piled rinsed steel plates and glasses and ladles into the plastic tub for Parvati to wash the next morning.
I helped Sowmya carry the plastic tub outside into the back yard.
“Now what?” I asked unsteadily.
Sowmya just smiled. “Now we will have a family Mahabharatam.”
I leaned against the cement base of the tulasi plant, not too keen on going back inside. The tension was flowing out of the house in small waves slowly coming together to form a tornado. I plucked a tulasi leaf and put it inside my mouth to stop tasting the rising bile of fear.
“They’re going to kick me out or they’re going to tie me up and marry me to this Adarsh fellow,” I said. “What if they don’t want to ever see me again?” I asked, my eyes filling yet again. “Will they just let me go?”
Sowmya took her hand in mine. “No,” she said. “No one will let you go. They will be angry with you for a while but they will come around.”
Lata came outside and asked if everything was okay.
“She is scared,” Sowmya said sympathetically.
“So she should be,” Lata said. “Once your mother gets over the shock, she is going to beat you within an inch of your life.”
I sighed.
“And your Thatha is… Well, he is going to watch,” Lata continued with a grin. “At least it is done. Now you can let what has to happen, happen.”
“Let’s go inside,” Sowmya suggested. “Otherwise they’ll think that you ran away.”
Running away sounded like a real good idea, right about now.