Arranged

"It may have happened. It may not have happened. But it certainly could have happened." - Mark Twain. 

A sort of preface to the post for once. If you wish to skip the preface, just skip the part in bold font.

The main point of this blog is firstly, for me to not lose touch with writing, which I love doing and secondly, frankly, sort of obviously, the praise and the compliments I receive for the blog. Perhaps I like writing because I like telling stories. Ultimately, everything is a story. Even in life, it's rarely facts. It's not my facts versus your facts. It's THE facts embedded in my story versus THE facts embedded in your story. According to your story you may hide some facts or think some others are not important. According to somebody else's story, the same facts you flung to the side are the main element of the story. One fact that can be a source of outrage for one person can be a fact that brings about mild amusement or even disinterest for another. 

Until now, I felt the blog has had a universality to its stories. I don't think anyone has been "outraged" by anything. And no one will be in the future as well, I hope. But I felt my stories must evolve. From the universal, with great breadth, to the more local. To something closer to home. To something that would likely happen in my house or my friend's house or in my neighbour's life, specifically. Why, you ask? Why not, I ask? 

When I was young and started my "novel that I would complete by the age of 13 and become the next Rudyard Kipling", my protagonist had the names Mr. and Mrs. Watson. The people in it were Philips and Betty and Andrew. The setting was a "cave in a mountain in Scotland". I was telling stories of the kind I had read until then. No story I'd read ever had a Mrs. Radha or an Ayesha Begum. 

And then I saw this Ted talk. And I agreed. I need to do something like this as well. I'm not a crusader. I'm just doing my bit to fill the world with all kinds of stories, where people not only look like people I see, but they think and act like that as well. Nothing against any other kind of story, but I felt like this little story should be a start for several more stories like these rather than some general themed post. Sermon over, blog post start. 

One would have been hard-pressed to find someone more satisfied in life than Nagraja Rao had been at that moment. He had just had idly with ghee and coconut chutney. His stomach was full and his off-late burgeoning belly was touching the bottom of the newspaper that he was reading, chuckling while he read. "Sonia and Rahul Gandhi summoned to court for hearing on National Herald Case" was the headline that seemed to have his attention. He muttered something about "family" and "ruined the country."

In the kitchen, Kamala was humming "Krishna nee bega ne baaro" while preparing coffee to wash down the idlies in her husband's stomach. The relaxed Sunday evening was ideal but for one point - their daughter was absent. Lakshmi had as usual said "I'm going out with my friends" without delving further into who these friends were, something that infuriated Kamala. She hoped Lakshmi was not up to no good. She hoped Lakshmi was in good company. 

Lakshmi was turning 24 in some time. A bright kid from the start, she refused to pursue engineering after 12th standard. Instead, she went into some design or animation or something like that which Kamala didn't approve of. Kamala felt that the main motivation for her choice of course was because Kamala didn't approve of it. 

In an attempt to coerce her daughter into taking engineering, just before a decision had to be made, Kamala pretended that she didn't disapprove of the design thing anymore. She counted on her husband to take over the disapproval mantle. Instead, Nagraja as usual dilly-dallied and eventually gave a meek blessing to Lakshmi to go ahead with the design course. Kamala knew that he was as uncomfortable with this as her. 

This further infuriated Kamala who, in a last ditch attempt to save her daughter from making a big mistake, told her that it was a terrible plan bound to give her no career and hence a lack of independence in her marriage immediately afterwards. Lakshmi was surprised and hurt by her mother's sudden u-turn after being so supportive and also thoroughly enraged by the idea of getting married so soon. Her indignation helped resolve her confusion and she took up design without any further ado. 

After the design course, surprisingly, she got a respectable job. In fact, a very good one. Designing logos and stuff for a company. Kamala however, had had enough of this charade. She refocused her energy into getting Lakshmi married. Nagraja was keen enough to help but wary of how his daughter would react. He was a man of strong opinions but liked to keep them to himself in the interest of a peaceful home atmosphere. He hating being disturbed while reading the paper or drinking coffee. 

Today was to be the big day. The battle plan had been drawn. The parents would spring a boy on Lakshmi. "We've found this boy. Horoscopes match. We're going tomorrow to meet him. Tell your boss to give you a holiday." 

When Lakshmi came home that night, after reprimanding her for coming home after dark, the couple (Kamala) followed the battle plan to the letter. Lakshmi was shell-shocked. "I'm not seeing a boy! I don't want to get married for another 3 years. Why do you need a horoscope? I can't just tell my boss I'm taking leave, I need to give her some notice!" It came out in a frustrated stream. 

The argument took the well-charted course that such arguments eventually take.

You haven't even seen who the boy is!
I don't want to!
What are you going to lose?
Why can't you just leave it?
He's a very nice boy!
No, his family is nice, you probably don't know anything about him!
No, we checked facebook, he puts very nice statuses and photos.
Oh curse Zuckerberg!
Don't change the topic.

Thus it went on back and forth. Until the most explosive moment of all. 

"I want to marry someone else!" Lakshmi shouted. And every sinew of her being regretted it a micro-second later. They weren't ready to hear it. She should have worked it slowly, the way Swetha did. But Swetha's parents were so much cooler. Oh God, no! 

Kamala's eyes opened wider than her forehead. Nagraja was stoic. He was conflicted on what to say. He was sure that he would not say it until the situation had cooled down. Maybe a few days later.

"Don't tell me he's a Muslim!" snapped Kamala. "Is that whom you were with today? Have you been roaming around with him? Do you have any sense?" 

Lakshmi was reeling, regret building up further with each passing moment. "He's a Hindu only, but why does that matter? What's your problem as long as he's nice to me?" she shot back. 

Brahmin?
OMG, yes ma, Brahmin only!

Kamala was relieved now. But she was in no mood to stop.

Where's he from? Is he Kannadiga?
Amma, Malleshwaram only, speaks better Kannada than you.

Kamala breathed a sigh of relief. Not some wretched Tamilian, or worse, an unruly North Indian. 

Lakshmi sensed this relief and the glint of mischief entered her eyes. "You know, ma, you only said 'him', 'him'. I never said it's a boy" she said teasingly. And for the second time that night, Lakshmi felt regret. Her mother sent down a barrage of angry words her way. Even her father seemed to furrow his brows a little deeper. 

While Nagraja had preserved his equanimity, he had still gone through a gamut of emotions. He was initially alarmed at his daughter's revelation, then relieved when he heard the boy was a Brahmin and a Kannadiga. Here he entered the conversation. "So, what Brahmin?" Lakshmi rolled her eyes. "No clue." "Oh, does he do Sandhyavandane?" "No, daddy. How does it make a difference?" 

"See, you may not appreciate it. But in the old days marriage was a social contract and these were useful references and pointers...". "Ayyo, ok! Something!" Lakshmi interrupted. Nagraja didn't mind this discourtesy, but his curiosity gnawed at him. "Give his father's number, let's see."

Lakshmi's eyes nearly popped out of her socket. "What? Why? No way! Why do you? Uhh?" She was lost for words at the sheer absurdity of the request. 

Nagraja was confused at her confusion. He was proud of himself. He'd kept calm when his daughter told him she is interested in a boy, a father's biggest fear. Then, when she'd come forward, he listened and now he actually volunteered to talk to the boy's father, the most logical next step for things to go on. What an ideal father he was! His self-congratulations were brought to an abrupt halt.