Arranging a love marriage or loving an arranged marriage?

I bet one of the thoughts that popped into your head when you read the title was ‘Oh no! Not another love versus arranged marriage discussionnnnn!!!’ The issue of love versus arranged marriage has been discussed and contemplated on time and again, and the point of this post is not to highlight the pros and cons of each. ‘Then what is it?!?!’ I can hear at least some of you screaming in your head. Ok, ok calm down, I am getting to it.

As a 29-year-old Gujarati girl, my world today is full of family, relatives, aunties and aunties who are family relatives coming up to me at random community functions and parties saying ‘So, when are you inviting us to your wedding?’ To which I sweetly reply ‘Everything is all set. You just need to find a groom for me.’ I mean it as a rude, diversion-creating comment that somehow never penetrates the foggy heads having that conversation with me. I mean, am I your responsibility? No. Does my getting hitched mean the world to you? No. Do I even know your name? Err… yes, I think… no, wait… do I? Then why would you bother yourself with such details of my life. But I am again deviating from the point here.

First, let’s get the ‘love’ issue sorted, shall we? Falling in love doesn’t come easy. For all of you who have found your soul mate in school, college, office, party, random coffee house or on the road and think you can bear to be with him/her for the rest of your life, go to the temple/church/mosque/gurudwara/any-other-sacred-place and thank God for his mercy. Cause not everyone is that lucky. And whoever said ‘Love truly and it will come back to you’ is an idiot and should be kicked where it hurts the most. True love is not always returned in the kalyug that we have come to live in, and you know it! Taking the time to know someone, accepting their faults and still loving them is a best-case-scenario if you are looking for a life partner. However, I have not been fortunate enough to be graced with such a person because, you know, God just doesn’t do me such favours in life.

Now for the arranged set-up. After millions of meetings with prospective grooms—ok, it was not THAT huge a number, but felt like it anyways—in a typical Gujju setting, which is awkward to say the least, I have still not found Mr. Perfect. Does that mean there is a dearth of decent guys in the so-called matrimonial market? (FYI, I always cringe when matrimony is used with the word ‘market’) Or does it mean that my choice is so specific that no one fits in my definition of perfect? I believe it’s neither. The environment that I was brought up in and the independence I have achieved in life has a lot to do with my decisions in this area of life. I just haven’t come across a person who makes me say ‘Ok, you are my type… Let’s give it a shot’. Well, someone who agrees with me anyways ;). According to me, the decision making process, which is going to affect the coming 50 years of my life—if I manage to live those many years, that is—depends on a varied number of factors. These factors have changed drastically in the past 20 years.

Factors to consider 20 years ago:

Education: check

Job: check

Family: check

DONE DEAL!!

Factors to consider now:

Education: check

Job: check

Family: check

Income: check

Home: check

Looks: check

Religion: check

Caste: check

Background: check

City he lives in: check

Upbringing: check

Nature: check

Whether in joint family: check

32 teeth in his mouth: check

Manglik factor that can kill me: awww… you JUST missed the cut!

Ok. I might have made up the last couple of them.

The jokers who do make the cut turn out to be just that: JOKERS! But the point is, you just have to be sure about ‘the one’. Till now I have not been sure about anyone. Nor do I know the exact process of ensuring that I reach that stage. I am just taking it as it comes. If any of you know how to spot/search for/zoom in on the perfect person, let me know and I will bow to your significant knowledge. If you waste my time with useless ideas, however, you will be suitably punished.

Here’s hoping that all of us clueless souls out here meet our so-called soulmates painlessly and in time. We can then give them pain for not meeting us sooner…

PS - For stomach-crunchingly hilarious stories involving the aforementioned jokers, contact the under-signed.

PPS - This was written quite some months ago. For those who do not know, I have found my Mr. Perfect now, and am paining his happiness suitably, thank you very much :)

Two sides of the same coin

She’s two years younger than me. We have the same DNA handed down to us by our parents. We have grown up in the same environment, with the same set of values. We have had a balanced upbringing in the same home.

However, we cannot be more different, be it temperament, choices, habits or personality. Whereas she likes to express her thoughts freely, I think twice before speaking. While she prefers colourful outfits, I am more conservative in my selection. She is a complete desi when it comes to cuisine, whereas I prefer a western menu. She will preserve a new buy for a special occasion or save an exotic chocolate for sometime later. I, on the other hand, dive right in, whether it is an outfit or a rare treat. She can spend 20 bucks on a taxi everyday, but refuses flat out to spend 600 bucks on a meal. I prefer travelling in a bus so that I can offset the expense of eating out once or twice a month. She is similar to my mom, while I tend to tilt towards my dad in habits. (You may come to the conclusion that my parents are totally contradictory in nature as well. You may probably also be right in that, but that’s a different story altogether.)

These, and a million other habits, choices and characteristic traits mark a remarkable difference between me and my younger sibling. Such marked contrast reminds me sometimes of two sides of a coin straining against each other to go in different directions, unable to do so due to the metal that binds them together.

We must have had a million fights in our 26 years together. Whether we are together or apart, we have the ability to tick each other off without a second’s notice. Constant nagging or difference of opinion on a trivial matter can have us pulling at each other’s hair—literally! A friend of hers was amazed and was left gaping at us when we had such a fight a few years ago while I was visiting her in the US. When we met at the beginning of my trip, we were nothing but love and smiles for each other. Under the heady effect of three years of pent up affection for each other, we exchanged a few pairs of earrings – one of our most sacred possessions that the other was not allowed to even look at, let alone touch. At the end of two months though, our so-called love frayed at the edges when we re-exchanged—I know I coined a new word here—the earrings after a huge fight. The video her friend has taken of the re-exchange has him in splits till this date!

Our childhood has been marked by numerous mini-wars, which my mom diffused sometimes with the help of our high and mighty dad, who rarely interfered, and whose judgement, when asked for, was considered final. At some of the most frustrating points in time, she mockingly regretted having two kids, wondering how households with more than two kids endured the horrors that went on within.

Today, when Ronak is with me day in and day out after a gap of nearly 8 years, the difference in personality is more obvious to me than it was before. However, our opposite temperament is actually helping us balance our work and personal life perfectly. She haggles for the 2 bucks from the vegetable vendor and I arrange for a perfect day out on the weekend. In a get together with friends, she becomes the star of the evening, whereas I balance stuff out by actually listening to conversations ;). I like doing the dishes while she likes cooking. A few years ago we would kill—well, nearly kill—the other for borrowing accessories or clothes without permission. Today, we share stuff willingly, sometimes even buying stuff we think the other will like.

And more prominently than ever before, we realise that no matter how much we haggle among ourselves, our affection and care over-rides everything else. And more than ever before, I am glad that my parents decided to have two kids. I do not know what I would have done as an only child, where the fun in my life would have come from or whom I would have beaten up while growing up. This one’s for Ronak, without whom my life would have been incomplete and boring, to say the least. 

This one goes out to you Rons. Happy birthday sis :)

PS – Do you see the devil sitting in the corner there, smirking that a post has been dedicated to her? Yup, that would be my sister.

Alice in Wonderland

A few months ago, we were asked to contribute an article for our intranet. At that time I was new to Mumbai and still adjusting to the city. I hence chose to write about my experience. And I think it was sheer luck that made it win the best article award. I wanted to share the article with whoever manages to accidentally come across this blog, cause, well, I need to re-affirm whether it is any good. So here it goes.

Unlike Alice, I didn’t accidentally fall into the Wonderland of Mumbai; it was by choice that I moved here from Ahmedabad, accepting a position with Netscribes Mumbai. There is a certain perception of this business capital of India in cities outside of Maharashtra, which makes it look like an exotic land of opportunities. Tales of struggling individuals finding everything ranging from a successful career to money to love are related with great penchant to non-Mumbaikars, which makes the city even more attractive to them. It is with these ideas of non-Mumbaikar that I took my first eager steps here, deciding to find a place of my own and live independently despite having relatives here. You can imagine how easy THAT turned out to be! Having lived in spacious, open places all my life, I was unprepared for the tiny apartments, which were available for paying guest accommodations or rent—some of them smaller than my walk-in wardrobe at home! Rent for the ones that I did like, promised to eat up more than half of my salary, which was not a feasible option. A bout with dengue right after I moved here didn’t help matters much. After struggling for a couple of months, I FINALLY landed an apartment I liked, which I could afford. By this point of time, the stars were, predictably, cleared out of my eyes. I realised that life in Mumbai might not be as easy and perfect as it seemed from afar.

A Mad Tea Party

Not many people realise that there is a score of difference between Mumbaikars and outsiders. Locals have the ability to take the utmost difficult situations in their stride. They live a hectic, paced and organised life day in and day out; hours of travelling to workplaces, financial difficulties, family life, leisure, emotions like angst, happiness and anger are all packed in one tight day. Mumbaikars have this unique ability to handle whatever life throws at them without even realising it. It is this ability, which makes the spirit of Mumbai unbreakable. Perhaps this is the reason behind its resilience in the face of terror attacks and the recent financial pandemonium.

As someone who is used to a leisurely lifestyle—ready-made food, a huge, personal bedroom, ironed clothes, zipping to office on a vehicle and reaching in five minutes flat—I initially found life in Mumbai to be like a mad tea party, with life frantic, overwhelming and disconcerting. I struggled hard to adjust to the pace and energy required for a normal day of work, getting back too drained to do any add-on activities I had planned while moving here. In Mumbai, you barely have time to breath, let alone settle in and spend time for leisure. The most difficult task I found in my first month was travelling in crowded buses or trains. Guess who was pushed to the end of every crowded line and managed only to catch the third bus or train every time she travelled? You guessed it right, it was yours truly.

Nonetheless, friends and family helped me settle in and explore the magic the city is so famous for. The night life of Mumbai made me explore, mouth agape, the grandeur, opulence and luxury present here; on my way back from Taj one night, I rubbed shoulders with none other than… a fisherwoman carrying her smelly, empty basket home J It was a humble reminder of the equality Mumbai brings to its people: a VP of a company, earning lakhs per month most likely takes the same train home as the kachrawala who comes to his home pick up garbageJ

A World of Fantasy

Mumbai comes across as a city which runs like a mammoth machine that never stops. It is only in the wee hours of the morning that this city seems to be resting, when it is calm, peaceful and empty. It is only when you cover a distance of five kilometers in 10 minutes—a task which usually takes you an hour—that you realise the impact of the traffic and crowd on everyday life.

In the three months that I have come to call Mumbai home, I have found beauty as well as ugliness; opulence as well as poverty; love as well as hatred; concern as well as apathy. The people here are fat as well as slim; beautiful as well ugly; beggars as well as millionaires; friendly as well as cold. On bad days, I feel alone in a crowd of thousands, whereas sometimes I am happy just walking on the streets, on my way home.

There are millions like me coming to the city each month to realise a dream. Any dream. And this city gives hope to the millions more who aspire to become someone someday and achieve their goals in life. And unless the MNS aka Raj Thackeray manages to change the spirit of the city, they will keep coming. For whereas there is hardship and struggle, there is also something magnetic about Mumbai that makes it an exciting venture for people like me. So the next time you see someone pushed to the back of the line in a bus or train, you can safely assume that that person has just taken his or her first tentative steps in this world of fantasy.

For those who were… and will always be…

If you have ever lost a loved one to death, you will relate to this post. Although a lot may have been discussed, written and opined about the ultimate end of life, I don’t think anything prepares someone for the death of a loved one. The ones who pass on may go on to the next world, but they leave behind this gut-wrenching emptiness that no one can ever fill. When a loved one loses the battle of life, no matter how long or short, it feels as if someone has torn a piece of your soul and you are expected to deal with it as a way of life.

In my 28 years of life, I had just heard, never been through the horrid effect of death. Although I lost my eldest mami to cancer more than 13 years ago, me and my sister were spared of the emotional farewell as we were too young. But all that changed on 13th September 2009. Our beloved jada mama expired. The second of our three maternal uncles, we had come to call him ‘jada’ mama since our childhood due to his cute round shape, which he came to readily accepted despite protests from my mother.

The impact of his passing was a shock to me and Ronak, mainly because we assumed the surgery was simple; one that would relieve him of the health problems he had been having since a few months. Elders in the family may have realised the seriousness of the procedure due to his deteriorating health, but the possibility of losing him forever never registered with me and Ronak. We lost him to complications related to bypass surgery… a usually simple procedure, which I see thousands of others undergo with ease, even today.

Jada mama was easily the most liked and lovable person in all of our extended family. He pampered young ones, be it my mother, his youngest sister, me and Ronak, his youngest nieces or Dhruvi, his first grand-daughter and the apple of his eye. No one was prepared for his passing… but come to think of it, can anyone ever be? In the two years that he has been gone, the flavour has gone out of alphansoes. I just do not get the same taste today like I used to when he ordered baskets and baskets of them for our visits in the summer breaks.

I came across a piece I had written right after his death, when the pain was too raw to comprehend. I don’t know if this is appropriate to share on this forum, but it brings tears to my eyes even today. I post it here in tribute to the loving memory of a family man loved and missed by all… who makes us feel he was there with us just yesterday, even though it is two years today since he left us forever. Jada mama, here’s to you, who once were and always will be… our jada mama :)

My beloved jada mama passed away today. It was totally unexpected… he was supposed to be home within 10 days and move into a new home with his son and grandkids within a week – something he was looking forward to since quite some time. Instead, he spent his last month battling for his life, attached to god knows how many support systems, trying valiantly to live, to be able to finally spend quality time with his beloved grandchildren. In this lone battle, he lost. And left behind a devastated family: two sons who worshipped him, three grandkids who adored him, and foremost, his wife, who, in their 40-something years of marriage, had never left home without him.

His passing has left a hole in our lives, mostly because we were planning on him getting well soon; we didn’t get to tell him how much we loved him… didn’t get to hold him properly… didn’t get to say goodbye. We were totally unprepared… but come to think of it, who is?

There is this fear now, of never being able to see his lively face again… of never hearing his voice begin his Sunday telephone calls with ‘Jai Shree Krishna’… of never hearing his teasing voice tell us that he is waiting on Vadodara station and to come and get him… of walking into that Mumbai home and not finding him awake at 5 in the morning to welcome us… and most of all, never being able to call him Jada mama again.

The last 2-3 times I saw him were the worst moments of my life… Trying to breath through the ventilator… Then only breathing through it, eyes closed forever… And finally in a stretcher, when he was brought home for the last time. Seeing him in that state gave me a stifling feeling, as if I wanted to scream, but was unable to do so. It is constant, all-pervading, unavoidable.

What I KNOW I will always remember about jada mama is that smile of his that was bestowed on everyone around him freely… that twinkle in his eyes when he teased me and Ronak every time we stayed with him in our summer vacations… the love, care, affection he gave us during his lifetime, and I am sure which will continue from up there.

We all know you are in heaven jada mama… We love you, and you will always remain mine and Ronak’s beloved jada mama. You are eternally etched in the hearts of Bittubhai, Anandbhai, Mami, your three grandkids, mom, Ronak and me. Keep sending your love from up there, always.