As promised she came to our
flat on Sunday evening. She was wearing a red knee-length skirt,
and I observed that she had lovely legs. That was something new- I
have seen tens, if not hundreds, of girls’ photographs sent to
our place, after my mother decided that I was old enough to get
married- for you never get to see to legs of a girl in a
photograph. You can see the face, the smile and the distorting
pimple, the sharp or the blunt nose in a profile, the glint of a
imitation jewel, the swell of the breast of a bimbo or the gentle
curve of a lovely woman- but never the legs. I mean the
photographs of Indian girls. In America it is different. When I
registered to a matrimonial site, I soon found scores of bikini
clad girls in my Inbox. Certainly not to say that legs are the
girl. No. That is why I came to India when I felt so lonely. Here
you get to see much more than just shapely legs. And that was what
I was seeing now.
Hi. Please come.
And I am usually very
observant with girls. The feminist tells that man is naturally
voyeuristic. They would know better- after all they are the object
of observation. But my observing eyes had a much more inherent
prompting. As they say, I have been a jilted lover. I never knew
what went wrong, but everything went wrong more than once. And so
I decided that I must be very careful when it came to selecting a
girl who, if something went wrong, might send me huge alimony
bills every month. Besides, having an aesthetic sense entails
aesthetic satisfaction. I could never know how a girl would be in
bed until I was in bed with her, but I certainly wanted to make
sure how she would look when in bed- a three month photography
course certainly endowed me with that capacity. And so, now, I
ravished her from her toe to her coiffure.
She certainly knows how to
dress, I told myself. I have very seldom seen Indians dress in a
way that is elegant, simple, sophisticated (and I can tell you
that there is no natural antagonism between the last two
adjectives) and yet utilitarian. The sari I like, but then it is
very clumsy. Besides I didn't fancy my wife wearing a sari and
going to, well wherever, in downtown Manhattan. Not that I would
dislike it just for that, but I know she would be the object of
observation of many others. So, she passed the first examination.
A skirt is a most elegant dress, provided you know how to sit in
the sofa while wearing the mini variety. And red is the
most seductive colour.
I had seen the face for
hours and fell in love. So I didn't give it that much attention in
the beginning. I wanted to fall in love with certain other aspects
of her, and somehow get done with things. The sort of pictures
being sent to me made me think if heaven was running short of
creativity. Ah, but this fresh look, innocent and seductive at the
same time, swept me off my feet. And thus after having a good look
at her feet I moved upwards. Yes. I jumped up mentally- narrow
hips. That was something else I liked. I didn't quite fancy a
Scarlet O’Hara waist, but anything more than twenty-eight was
taboo to me. And then the curves. From both angles she had lovely
curves. Not abrupt, nor too shallow. Well, she’s my babe, I
decided. And since she had just completed her graduation, there
was no problem with the age as well. I always fancied having a
college-going. I will have this one. I certainly will.
INTERMISSION
‘I hope I didn't make you
nervous by calling you alone here. I sent my parents for a film so
that we could be alone. You see, this was a test. If you would
come it would mean that you have that much courage and
independence which I shall cherish in a partner. Moreover, in
America it is mandatory. So you want to do your MA. You realize
that if we are able to select each other then you might have to do
you post-graduation in quite a strange place. No friends. No
acquaintances. And who know, perhaps a queer course and syllabus.
Supposing you like me, you sure you would want to go?’ One thing
I have learned is that you ought to give anyone full options, so
that if trouble comes, you can always have an escape hatch.
‘I guess I can cope- I
mean I cannot be sure, of course- but if I know myself, I can
carry it in my stride. But one thing I cannot get- why do you
think that I should go? I can study here as well.’
‘What do you think I am
doing here in India, talking to a beautiful woman all alone in a
place that is new to her! I came to marry, and I came here in
desperation. If I wanted a female companion I could, perhaps, have
a girl friend. Perhaps, because I never had one who stayed with
me. But I wanted a wife. I am not objectifying her, but just using
the word as an essential entity without whom most people feel
empty, especially during a certain period in their lifetime. I am
precisely in that situation. I just wouldn't want her by my side,
but I would really need her. I need a companion- in and out of
bedroom. You know how do I differentiate between love marriage and
arranged marriage? In an arranged marriage first you marry and
then you love; in a love-marriage you first love and then you
marry. What is unsaid is what happens after marriage in the second
case. Pretty lecture, no? I just wanted to make myself clear. I
hope I have. I will again ask- can I have that companionship from
this lovely woman sitting in front of me?’
‘You really know how to
talk! You see, when the first time you virtually assumed that I
shall be going with you, I was put off. But. Now it seems quite
different. I think I can do it. Besides I would like the new
place. But we shouldn't perhaps talk of that place so early- as
you said, there is a catch to be fulfilled- if we like each other!
And I liked your approach.’
‘Thanks ma’am. I would
like to make another thing clear- there’s is quite a chance that
we shall be staying there for quite some time, perhaps forever.
Your home shall be half-way round the world and visits would
really be rare.’
‘you know, according to
Indian traditions, the girl is husband’s wealth. Perhaps you
should also know why my parents are so eager to marry me off. So
that they can get rid of a responsibility- besides it is not often
that such lovely prospects are in the offing. So materialistic is
this whole approach to marriage!’
‘You are not against it,
no. The marriage I mean.’ My heart was beating hard in the
apprehension. A no was the last thing I wanted to hear.
‘No, no. I am not a
feminist. I am just a woman. But I hate this notion of
transaction, this sense of materialism. And the lack of ...how
shall I say?...marriage, you see, for my parents is just a sacred
duty, a back-breaking responsibility. My parents love me very much
and naturally want the very best for me, but this approach...’,
she trailed off.
I was wondering how good can
it get. Here was a girl without any antipathy towards marriage,
and here was I eager for marriage. Fast, I told myself. But then I
had one crucial question to ask her.
‘You are not against
marriage- I take it that that means you can, possibly, marry me.
But I must ask you something. It is none of my fucking business to
probe into your past, and I won’t. Still, as of now is there
anyone else? I just want to be very sure that I am not intruding
into your plans of future, which certainly did not include me. You
see, I shall hate to take a girl from someone else. Since I will
love the girl, I want to make sure that the girl will also love
me. You get me?’
‘There was someone. He
was...’
‘Don't’ I cut her short.
‘I don't want to hear what was. Not at this moment. There shall
be plenty of time for all that. I too have my experiences. Okay. I
will tell you certain things about me as well...’
And then I told her about
me, my job, my habits....
And it was late evening.
She told me she must go. She
would think everything over.
After I got her into a taxi
and bid her bye, I sauntered around. My demands in the matrimonial
column was short and clear. Wanted pretty, intelligent, modern
girl for USA based working boy. I did not want anything more.
Whether she was Bengali, Brahmin or whatever was the least concern
to me. I was to marry the girl not her community, I told myself.
Similarly I gave as much information about myself as I considered
necessary: USA because she was to stay there. Working, because I
wanted to convey that I reached there by my own effort, and not
through inherited wealth. The gamble paid off. As the taxi went
beyond the sight I wondered what she might be thinking about me.
Whatever, I respected her because of her individualism. She was
modern and intelligent all right. And certainly pretty. But. Will
she....
This is an extract
from the contemporary modern Indian history. In fact I must
qualify my statement further.
As thousands have
said before, the most difficult thing about India is that you
cannot generalize anything about her. Yet something surely can be
said about a very small community, which has come to symbolize
India in very big way. The liberal educated modern Indian citizen.
In some cases, legally speaking, he might not even be an Indian,
as perhaps in this case. But that does not take away any
Indian-ness from their existence. This small but important and
influential community is cosmopolitan, comprehending and liberal.
Modern, yet traditional. And marriage is one field which perhaps
best summarizes the situation of this community stuck between two
worlds. Too traditional to marry a bikini-clad westerner and yet
too modern to consider the stance of birth, they, perhaps,
demonstrate that search of identity which is existence.
Reference:
Hyderabad Blues. An offbeat movie showcasing this same
dilemma of an America returned boy.
