2 States The Story Of My Marriage (34 page)

‘You will take their side only. You are trapped.’ She muttered. ‘Stupid boy,

doesn’t know his own value.’

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52

Few things bring out the differences between Punjabis and Tamilians than buffet

meals. Tamilians see it like any other meal. They will load up on white rice first,

followed by daal and curds and anything that has little dots of mustard, coconut

or curry leaves.

For Punjabis, food triggers an emotional response, like say music. And the

array of dishes available in a buffet is akin to the Philharmonic orchestra. The

idea is you load as many calories as possible onto one plate, as most party

caterers charged based on the number of plates used. Also, like my mother

explained since childhood, never take a dish that is easily prepared at home or

whose ingredients are cheap. So, no yellow daal, boring gobi aloo or green salad.

The focus is on the chicken, dishes with dry fruits in them and exotic desserts.

‘You can take more than one plate here, mom,’ I said as she tossed three

servings of butter chicken for me.

‘Really? No extra charge?’ she said.

We returned to our table. ‘You are having rice?’ my mother said as she saw the

others’ plates.

They nodded as they ate with spoons. Their fingers itched to feel the squishy

texture of rice mixed with curd and daal. Ananya had made them curb their primal

instincts to prevent shocking my mother.

‘Chicken is too good. Did you try?’ my mother said and lifted up a piece to

offer them.

‘We are vegetarian,’ Ananya’s mother said coldly, even as the chicken leg

hung mid-air.

‘Oh,’ mother said.

‘It’s OK, aunty, I will try it.’ Ananya said.

We ate in much silence with only our chewing making a sound.

‘Amma, something something,’ Ananya whispered in Tamil, egging her on to

talk.

‘Your husband didn’t come?’ Ananya’s mother said.

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‘No, he is not well. Doctor has told him not to travel by air,’ my mother said.

‘There is a train to Goa form Delhi,’ Ananya’s father supplied. Ananya gave her
father a glance, making him return to his food.

‘We don’t travel by train,’ my mother said, lying of course. I have no idea why.

She continued, ‘Actually, Punjabis are quite large-hearted people. We like to

live well. When we meet people, we give them nice gifts.’

‘Mom, do you want dessert? There is mango ice-cream,’ I said.

She ignored me. ‘Yeah, we never meet anyone empty-handed. Oh and meeting

the boy’s side empty-handed is unthinkable,’ my mother said as I gently stamped

her foot.

‘OK, I’ve booked a car for sightseeing tomorrow. Please be in the coffee shop

by seven,’ I said.

‘Illa sightseeing,’ Ananya’s mother mumbled.

‘Sure, we’ll be there,’ Ananya said.

Ananya and I met for a walk post-dinner at Park Hyatt’s private beach.

‘My parents are upset,’ Ananya said, ‘your mother should learn to talk.’

The waves splashed the shore as many tourist couples walked hand-in-hand in

front of us. I bet they weren’t discussing the mood swings of their future in-laws.

‘Your parents should know how to behave,’ I said.

There we were, at one of the most romantic locations in India, having our first
marital discord. In an Indian love marriage, by the time everyone gets on board,

one wonders if there is any love left.

‘How can they behave better?’ she said.

‘I will tell you. But you must do exactly as I said,’ I said.

‘If it is reasonable,’ said my sensible girlfriend.

‘Step one, buy my mother an expensive gift.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, step two, when we go out in Goa tomorrow, always offer to pay.’

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‘Everywhere?’

‘Yes, at restaurants, to taxis or anywhere else. And when you offer, she will

say no. but insist, if needed, snatch her purse to prevent her from paying. In

Punjabi, this is considered OK, even affectionate.’

Ananya’s jaw went slack.

‘Step three, never let me do any work when everyone’s around. For example, at

the breakfast table, tell your mother to bring toast for me.’

She snorted.

‘That’s what my mom expects. Do it,’ I said.

Her face looked defiant.

‘I beg you,’ I said.

‘Anything else?’ she said.

‘Yes, step four is to make love to me on the beach.’

‘Nice try, pretty Punjabi boy. But sorry, nothing’s happening until we cross the
finish line now.’

‘Ananya, c’mon,’ I coaxed.

‘We have to fix the family situation. I’m too tense to think of anything else,’

Ananya said.

‘OK, if tomorrow goes well, then can we do it on the beach? We will call it

Operation Beach Passion.’

‘We’ll see. Beach Passion,’ she smiled and smacked my head. ‘Let’s go back,

my dad is waiting for me.’

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The day tour of Goa went off without fireworks, mainly due to the presence of a

friendly Goan tour guide. We went to Bom Jesus Basilica, the oldest church in

Goa.

‘Light a candle with someone you love,’ the guide said. I had to choose

between Ananya and my mother. Given the sensitivity of the trip, I went with the

latter.

We also visited Dona Paula, the climax location for the movie Ek Duje Ke Liye.

“Famous movie shot here. North Indian boy, South Indian girl. Difficult to get

along, so they die,’ the guide said.

‘What else could have happened?’ my mother smirked. I let it pass.

Ananya’s parents stayed back in Panjim for shopping.

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53

We met Ananya’s parents at dinner. All buffet meals at Park Hyatt were paid for as

part of the package. They came to the coffee shop with three brown bags.

‘Kavita-ji, this is for you,’ Ananya’s father passed the bags to my mother.

‘No, no, what is the need?’ my mother simpered as she took the gifts.

The first bag had three saris. The second bag had four shirts for me. The third
bag contained sweets, savoury snacks and Goan cashews.

I cruised the buffet counters with Ananya.

‘Enough or does she want more?’ Ananya said.

‘It’s cool. This is exactly what works,’ I reassured her.

All of us sat at the table and ate in silence. I always found it scary to eat with
Ananya’s family, who ate their meals as if in mourning. If I found the lack of

conversation awkward, my mother hated it. She shifted in her seat several times.

The only sound was cutlery clanging on the plates.

My mother spoke after five minutes. ‘See, how times have changed. Our kids

decide, and we have to meet each other.’

‘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 would 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?’

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‘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. W 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

humiliated?’ 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.

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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-cream 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 ears. 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.

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‘Aunty, please don’t generalize. 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.