today let me tell you about a special arranged marriage in India. how it happened and then how it ended.

am not exactly a story teller like First Awake or many others in this space, but the story probably is worth telling as Rama points out.   in many ways it might  be the story of many women in India.

it was a cool rainy evening when one of my erstwhile teacher's sisters came to our house for a visit. we had grown close and were now like family.  I was twenty eight then. 

in the course of their conversation the women (my mother and her)  hit  the subject of the daughter of the house,  "Boudi, shouldn't you be looking for a match for Mishti now?" (Boudi is the Bangla word for sister in law, in India people dont call each other by their names or surnames, they make sisters, or brothers of various denominations out of  peope they meet)(Mishti is my nickname).

 so my mum says, but she cannot cook. besides she is head strong, who would marry a woman like that? do you know someone that might understand her and want her?(headstrong= a woman with a mind of her own in India)

Sheila aunty thought for a few seconds. before that she had studied me bent over my work in the other room for a long while. after the customary "hi-helo-how are you-hows uncle-what are you kntting this year" etc I had retreated to my room. 

I was never the one for chitchat or small talk. am the brooding silent types that laughs  once in a while, mostly smiles through life.  silently. unless angry. very angry that is. (like when this monkeyman perched on the bus stop railing early this morning spit on the ramp  right in front of my eyes)

so Sheila aunty thinks. talks about other things.. comes over and tries to pick a conversation with me a little timidly. asking me what I was working on, what kind of a 'boy' I would like for myself,  if I knew someone or if I 'liked'  someone. 

satisfied that I wasn't involved and quite single and without many ideas about what I wanted, she went back that day. she came back a few days later - with a proposal.  my mother should go see a 'boy' for me. she thought this would be an ideal match as she thought both 'boy' and 'girl' are idealists.

my mother went. she came back and it all began.

first, mum met the sister of the 'boy'. they wanted my photo. they decided they liked that. so now the matter was referred to the boy's parents.  my mum met them. they sent their son's photo. 

it was shown to me. my mum still hadn't been able to get through to the 'boy'.  she looked hassled. but didn't complain yet. in India they don't too quickly. lots of patience about most things.

there were two photos. one showed the man at a microphone giving a speech or addressing a crowd at a function possibly. pretty handsome. with a head full of hair. bohemian looks, hoilds his head high, confident gesture, posture, in short ok. the other  showed a man in late thirties slightly balding  sitting on a stage with guests, again,  probably at a public gathering. nice smile.

so matters start rolling. first visit of his parents to my house to 'see' me. father draws me aside,  takes a walk with me on our terrace and says, "you know that speech where Brutus' wife exhorts him to share  his burden with her and treat her like a wife? well, this fellow needs some moulding, you would have to mould him the way you want him to be, you get it?" he was an English teacher, ex head master, erstwhile founder member of Indian People's Theatre Association India, hard core communist.

(he had collected a whole horde of Raga Yaman versions when he had learned that I like that one.  for me. )

I didn't get it. I don't like to have to mould people. but I had nodded as I didn't want to open  my mouth and speak to the stranger. I was shy.

his mum didn't say much to me.  she had touched the tip of my chin affectionately  in a typical Indian gesture and had murmured that her son was lucky to have me. she told my mother again and again that they liked their future daughter in law and would be pleased to have a wedding soon only it should be a simple event. next, a date was fixed when  he would come to 'see' me.

he came. fingered the books on my table. thought and thought and then asked, "so are you sure you want me? do you realize I have no life as such?  am not rich, don't even have a car. am weddded to my work and my principles, they are most important to me".

I said, I was ok with that.

I  wanted to know why he wanted to marry? he said, he felt responsible towards his old parents. he didnt want to hurt them.

ok, not too good, but ok. the reasons for marrying I mean.

I didn't want to have to 'see' another strange man or meet another set of strange people who came to my house to 'see' me. and any man that has two legs, two eyes, could fend for himself,  has some brains, and seems likely to love me a little seemed fine. this one seemed to admire my taste in books at least. and his family seemed ok.  

one day I was taken to meet a 'friend'. in his office. he asked him if I knew 'everything'. he said he would like to speak to him behind closed doors, would I mind? "Would you give us a minute, Mishti, please, this is important. By the way did he tell you that my wife had killed herself?"

I was surprised. dazed.shocked at the news. no he hadn't. but why should he have? didn't know what to think.

next day,  he sent the brother over to take me to their house to meet the family formally. where they basically discussed what saree I would wear for the wedding, what coour, and they took the measure for my ring and bangles.

so verbally engaged. fell sick.  acute infected gall bladder. was rushed to the hospital. surgery followed and a month long period of recupeartion. 

while I was attached to all those contraptions at the hospital, immediately after surgery,  mother one day announced gently  that that man had wanted to come when he had heard.

I refused to have anyone see me at that state. anyway, a month later they came back to fix the date of the wedding. 

in the meanwhile,  he wrote long letters from where he was at work which was out of station.  courted me when he was in town by accosting me on my way to school, running behind my train to hand me a letter etc. whisking me away from school on the day of his birthday because he wanted to celebrate it with his would-be-naive-bride.  (he called me that).

and it happened.

immediately after the wedding, we went to Shantiniketan.  we spent time like two strangers would - sharing a room together. taking walks in the evening,  him sharing jokes, asking where I went to school, where I grew up, what authors I liked, where all I had been, where he would take me next.

I would listen. answer questions in as small sentences as was possible. he seemed distant. quite far away.  

soon after,  about a week later, he took off to his place of work.

and that was the last I had seen of him. 

no, wait... I think we had met once more in between,  when he had declared this marriage could not be. he apologised  profusely in front of his family and in private to me. 

his parents did too.  requested the marriage to be called off.  said that it was their mistake and they were ready to compensate.

I was puzzled.  asked for counselling. he refused to come or attend or even see me. his teacher and boss asked me if he had told me everything? 

like what?  the counsellors advised my parents - this is no marriage. none of the conditions had been  met.  it hasn't been consummated.  the couple  didnt live together, the husband didnt share marital responsibility. call it off, marry her off  again to a nice man - she is too young.

we had to wait a year as one cannot file for divorce even by mutual consent unless it has been a year after the wedding.then  it was called off. just like that.

at some stage later, actually about seven years after that,  this woman came in contact with a man she liked. one fine day he introduces  her to his family, mother and sisters and his friend, and declares that he is gay. he has been gay. that his 'friend' and he had been together for more than five years. but he is lonely, likes this woman, wants a child and would like her  to go live with him.

you must by now be smiling at the unreality of it all,  wondering what  all this is about? I didnt know either. but that was back then. through this second man I came to know all about it - he educated me to the issues, the law, IPC 377, the social conditions, the stigma,  problems, prjudices, constraints in their lives.

at his behest, I had walked the gay pride walk that year.  one of the five hetero women walking it that year, Siddharth Gautam's sister Anudidi, an emigration lawyer from the US, her teenage daughter, a student of an ivy  league school in the US, two law students from Jadavpur University, Kolkata,  and this woman.

  she had plunged into the 'movement' . edited their journals for them, joined a gay group to campaign for them. "You are a teacher, and one of  'them' ,they would listen to you, didi (sister) ".

'they' did infact.  their parents, their teachers, colleagues, celebrities, writers, artists, librarians, journos, film starts, rock musicians - whoever I could get hold of and approach,  to sensitize.  two years later a private channel aired "Coming Out on Television" . 

a few years later the woman felt drained, she  got tired.  it hurt, the bleeding in the heart continued and she quit her home and her job and  hit the roads.

never did go back there again. should  she?