My Girlfriend's Marriage

Background:- I almost spent my teenage in those old government colonies built in the outskirts of the city. My father worked with Indian Railways. I always wondered who designed Indian trains and such colonies probably the same guy as one could hardly differentiate such government quarters and train bogies. Those quarters included a vast coverage of bare land at the front of the house, which you're supposed to convert into a beautiful kitchen garden otherwise wild bushes would grow up and extensively be used by snakes and other dangerous reptiles to hide. In addition, the shared stairs with your neighbours to reach the gigantic roof from a huge common backyard were at the stake of privacy. The living space was hardly 20 % of the entire constellation. The toilet was of course outside the house. 

It was of no motivation to live there till I saw her first time. That day, my mother sent me to place wet Papads (home made Indian snacks) on the roof. You can't deny your mother for any nature of work at home because of her threat of complaining it to my already angry, tired and frustrated father from work every evening. 

I ascended the stairs holding those Papads as she was descending gently. I smiled and said "Hi" for which she replied with a cute smile. In today's times, it is just a great start, but for a small town boy from a hindi medium boy's school in 1995, it was too much to digest. I rushed to see her father's name plate to check which caste she comes from. She belonged to Brahmin (Priest) and I was Baniye (Business). Though I was hardly aware of the hierarchy of Indian caste system but it seemed to be not that difficult to arrange this marriage. That night I made a concrete plan of how to proceed further. The ultimate goal was to get married to her. 

Some Intermediate Explanation:- (Who thinks of marriage at the age of 16 ? You are right ! No one does now. But what else you expect from the times of 1995 in a small town ? You can't meet girls because you study in the government hindi medium schools and school administration either makes two separate shifts for boys and girls or if you are a bit lucky, the girls can study in your shift but definitely in a separate section. The younger girls in your neighbourhood call your Bhaiya (Brother) and you have to address Didi (Sister) to every elder girl you meet. Even then you get a girl, you can't date her because of CCE (Close Circuited Eyes) all around the town. There, everyone knows somebody who knows someone in your family. This chain can spread anything. Difficult times ! ) 

Next day, I returned from the school and saw her entering my house with a fat woman. I hesitated to step ahead. It took me 15 minutes to enter my own house. 

"Son, she is Sharma aunty and her daughter Neha. They are our first neighbours. Neha didi is studying in BA I year." My mother introduced. 

Oh damn ! Neha didi ? Why should I call her didi ? Why did I enter my house that day ? I cursed Indian pledge that says "All Indians are my brothers and sisters, though I never uttered that line in my entire life. I decided not to call her didi. 

There was no sign of hope till she came to me and asked " Which class do you study?" 

Was it real ? Was she talking to me ? I replied " Class XI, Science Maths". I was overexcited hence over-answered. She smiled and left. 

In the next months, we exchanged some more smiles and short messages. Thanks to 1980's hindi movies that enlightened us with an idea of hiding messages in the books and exchanging books were no crime. I even exchanged a rose on her birthday. In return gift, I expected her to say "I love you". 

With her continuous denials and my constant efforts, she agreed to say "I love you". But the question was where to say it ? I had an idea. It was a fool proof plan. 

I sent a message " You have to give single tone missed call on our landline phone when there is no one around at your home. If I send back the same single tone missed call, it's safe to call me." 

We were not privileged with mobile phones. 

After consistent trials, we managed to get a green zone. Her mother was sitting with my mother in our common backyard. 

She rang and said "I love you. Now happy ?" She hung up the phone. 

I was on top of the world. My mother called me and asked " Whose phone was that ?" 

I replied anxiously " It was a blank call" 

My mother annoyingly said to Neha's mother " Bhabhiji, we are getting too much blank calls these days." 

Her mother agreed " Hmmm. We too bhabhiji." 

Both cursed the blank callers and BSNL. I escaped the place.

It took me another several months to convince her to kiss me. She sent a message " You meant on hand na ?" 

I replied "Kisses are always on lips. Understood ?" 

My father got a transfer letter few days later.

I directed her "If you love me, you have to kiss me before I leave the city. Otherwise this love story ends now." 

She agreed after several refusals. It was the night before we planned to leave the city with our stuff. I kissed her on the common roof. With tears in her eyes, she left immediately. My lips, tongue and throat got dried. My heart started beating beyond the danger zone. I was called downstairs. I wasn't in my control. We left.

3 years later .........................

We received her wedding card. Neha weds Banwari Lal Sharma. Though my parents ignored the invitation, I was determined to attend the wedding. I reached there. Our eyes met. She ignored. 

Her uncle asked me " Son, your parents didn't come ? But it's good you are here to attend your sister's marriage. Now you have to work a lot in next two days." 

I passed a fake smile showing my disagreeing agreement. 

He continued " Son, could you arrange the chairs first and then serve Thandai  (Indian beverage) to Baraatis (Groom's family) and most importantly to your jiyaji. They are staying in the guest house." 

I agreed with a fake smile. I met the groom and cursed Neha's decision to marry a fat guy. 

I worked like a wedding sister's brother. It was a general impression among Baraatis that I was among the main brothers of the bride. That's the reason I skipped the Fera Rasm (Important Ritual of Indian marriage), because they would have forced  me to pursue Kanyadaan (Important Ritual of Fera Rasm which brother of the bride performs) of my first love. It would have been too much.

I wished her good luck and left.  

I never dared to visit her later in life. Probably if I had visited her, her kids would have called me "Mama"(Maternal Uncle). I couldn't have handled it. 

  

   

 

     

She is from Delhi

The first day in college might sound exciting for others but I was nervous for known reasons. More than a fear of being ragged by the seniors, I was quite anxious about giving self-introduction in English during the orientation session of the new batch. Being a throughout Hindi medium scholar and yet to be called upon the stage at 2nd place, because of my name (Aaditya), were quite the reasons of being highly strung. I cursed my grandfather of giving that name to me.

It was a hot day of July. I wore a formal shirt, pants and polished shoes (Probably the first time I polished my shoes.)  I had to change 3 city buses to get there. I was sweating like hell. Being nervous, profusely sweated and worn formal outfits easily classified me as a I year undergraduate. This caught the attention of a group of 3 boys in the last city bus of the journey.
One of them shouted " Oye, idhar aa (Hey, come here) ! I year ? "
I stammered " Yeee....s"

The threesome enjoyed their success of making me more nervous by their senior undergraduate status.
The second boy shouted "Sight your eyes at the third button of the shirt. Chal intro de ab ! (Give your Introduction)"
They altered my introduction, which I mugged up for the orientation session, several times. It took me 30 minutes to get introduced as per their version. I was relieved at the end.

I rushed to the entrance of the auditorium but was stopped and scolded by a very tall person." You are late even on the first day of the college." He taunted.
I responded " I am extremely sorry sir, my bus was late." I somehow made the most general excuse.
He whispered " Burdens on Society" and passed a very bad look to me while I was entering the fully packed auditorium.

Though I was late, my seat at the 2nd position of the first row was reserved. I thanked my grandfather. The flower bouquets were being exchanged at the stage while I was taking my seat. My neighboring fellows passed "Good for Nothing" looks to me in exchange of my smile.

Just after the boring speech of a non-understandable old person sitting on the podium, a girl took over the mike and started addressing us.
She looked very beautiful in a pink saree. Her straight hair elegantly outlined her shining face. I couldn't sense anyone's presence except her. I was totally lost in her. It was my first love at first sight. It seemed like she was calling me to her.

Then somebody shook me " Bro, your name is being called at the stage"

I quickly got back to the reality and rushed to the dais. I spoke into the mike. I mixed my mugged up version with the one imposed by the seniors. Somehow I finished it but very imperfectly.

Later that day, I met one of my school-mate, namely Paresh, who also got admission in the college.
" Bro, I guess I am in love" I shared my recently developed emotions.
" Yaar, tu toh killer nikla. Pehle din hi setting kar li." (Hard to translate this overexcited expression) 
"Nah bro ! It was love at first sight. You remember that girl speaking at the podium ?" I demystified the secret.

He furiously responded " Are you crazy or what ? She is from Delhi. You are from Jalore, not known small town of Rajasthan. Her father is a CEO of MNC and yours a clerk in Marudhara Rajasthan Gramin Bank. Did you listen to her speaking fluent English that too in English Accent ?  I heard your introduction, you could hardly complete a sentence. She is in II year. I heard that almost every boy of her batch having the same status tried on her. Love at first sight !" After the descriptive analogy, he passed "You are an Idiot" look to me.

But I refused to give up. "I agree the differences but I secured top 100 Rank in State Engineering Entrance Exams and the college discounted 25% of the fees. Can't my good academic background attract her ?"     
"What ! 25 % discount ? You know, she paid 250 times of the fees as donation. It doesn't matter for her. " He discarded my positive point. "Anyway how do you come to college ? How much is your pocket money ?"He asked these questions, which according to him preliminary to even think of approaching her. 

"I come by city bus. I get 500 Rs out of which 300 I spent to buy the monthly city pass, so technically I have only 200 Rs as spare money." I honestly answered.

He again lost his temper "Man, you are totally crazy. 200 Rs is her daily canteen expenditures. You can't afford her. We small town boys never get girlfriends in the college. We never fulfill 1%  of the criteria.We are destined to do arrange marriage."

Then a boy, namely Rishi, from the same town interrupted us "Hey Paresh, what are you guys talking about ? "
Paresh made fun of me " Bhai ko pyaar ho gaya hain (He is in love) !"
Rishi curiously asked "Who?"
"Sonali, II year" Paresh fired the one liner.
" Bro, it's not your mistake. Almost half of the college love her. But we can't deserve her. She is from Delhi and you know what I mean."
 Paresh interrupted " Yeah, I explained him"
Rishi continued " Good. I have also heard that she does already have a boyfriend. He usually comes here over the weekend with his luxurious BMW car and they disappear for 2 days." Rishi enlightened us.

My first love story ended within 24 hours.

Disclaimer: "She is from Delhi" is used as a phrase to define the social (status) gap of a boy and girl. You know what I mean :P     

I Met Her

1980, the year I met her for the first time. Today is 2015. I am 58. Recalling the memories of these passing decades, it was this memory of meeting her, my brain cells didn't attempt to replace. She is not my wife. I only spent 3 hours of my life with her. I don't know where is she now! I didn't even try to find her. She didn't do it either. 

Today I would like to write our short story.

I was born and brought up in a typical Indian middle class family of a small town. With "Typical", I meant by the generalized pattern these families follow to carry out their lives.
Like for a Boy:- Get educated, Get a Job, Get Married, Have Babies, Build a House, Save the money, Get your children married, Retire, Die. 
For a Girl:- Become 18, Get Married, Have Babies, Never Retire, Die.
Any slight deflection from this pattern would create a big destruction.

In my case, two steps were already accomplished as I got a government job at the age of 23 after being graduated in Commerce. I was returning back to home to have a relaxed week long Diwali vacations. On the other hand, my joint family, consisting of 5 paternal uncles, their wives and children, was desperately waiting for me to help me achieve 3rd step of the pattern. My Marriage. It was the single mission to be executed that vacations. I was unaware of it. For us, marriage was an annual affair because of my 22 cousins. Now it was my turn.
The prerequisite to get married is to find a girl. My family had already scrutinized few biodatas out of the numerous and countless biodatas they received. It was a matter of proud for them. I wondered why I was the most eligible bachelor of the town.
My aunt then explained me " You have a secured government job and we have our own house. What else a girl needs ! "
Okay, it was not my looks (as shown in Bollywood) and education (as per logic) that the girls' families eagerly approached us. It was about life-long never-ending incomes and after death pension benefits. 
   
Anyway, at first they decided to visit Kalpana's family living in the town not from ours. My grandmother selected the panel which would visit her family. The panel included all my uncles, eldest aunt, my parents, father's sister (Buaji) and her husband (Fufaji), a cousin sister and her spouse (Jiyaji), two kids and of course me. We hired a mini-van to reach there.
As we reached their house, a kid yelled out " Aa gaye (They arrived)". Soon a group of men gathered at the gate to receive us. The eyes from the neighborhood started scanning us to figure out who's the prospective groom. I was nervous. We stepped in. It was a similar kind of housing we had. The house was full of people too. They offered us the seat and the plate full of Gulaab-Jamun, Bengali Sweets, Chips, Namkeen (Indian sweets and snacks) and some unidentifiable things. A glass of cold-drink was an addition. My denial of having them all was rejected by one of the oldest person from the other side.
He said " Beta (Son), this is nothing but to taste. We will have the main course in few minutes." Everybody laughed. I didn't find humor in it. My father directed me through his eyes to eat them all. Then came the food. I was terribly tired of the food. My stomach was just flooded of sweets, spices and oil. My eyes were desperately waiting for Kalpana. My despairing eyes were caught by my sister. She pulled my leg saying " Aa jayengi bhabhi, thoda intezaar karo bhaiya (Bro, she will come ! Just have some patience)."

Then arrived a girl escorted by few other women. She looked like a show stopper. She was wrapped in a beautiful saree. She held a tray full of neatly aligned cups of tea. She offered me to have one which I couldn't deny despite my troubled stomach. Our eyes met. She sat far from me.
Then an old lady started briefing her qualities" Kalpana is very simple girl. She can cook almost everything. The samosas, you ate this afternoon, were made by her. She is the best in pursuing all sort of house chores." Everyone felt proud of her outstanding attributes and showed the fake smiles.
Then a mid-aged man asked me " Where are you posted at the moment ?". That was all asked from me. Two more hours passed. No-one asked me to ask Kalpana any question. My father with his playing eyes asked me" What's my decision ?" I ignored him.


I interrupted everyone " Can I have a word with Kalpana in private ?"
My question silenced everyone. Few hearts stopped pumping, few mouths remained opened, some eyes widened at me. They reacted like if I asked her to kiss me. Then a lady broke out the silence and accepted my proposal " Why not ? You should talk to each other. Sonu will go with you two."  
Sonu was a 8 years old boy who was supposed to protect his sister from me during our meeting. Irritated but a sigh of relief for me to talk Kalpana in person.
All the eyes followed us till we entered the private room.
I asked her to sit down. Sonu sat next to her leaving no place for me. He was doing his job. I chose to stand up. I asked Kalpana if I could ask any question. She hesitatingly agreed revealing her shyness to the extreme. She was very nervous. However I tried to frame some questions.
I : Hi, What have you studied ?
She: 12.
I: What would you like to do afterwards ?
She: As you say.
I: I meant how could I decide what would you do ?
She: No answer
I: What do you think of marriage ?
She: No answer
I: Do you have any question?
She: No answer
Sonu was enjoying every question of mine. He laughed at all of them. I was sure he would reveal all questions with other family members once I would leave their house.
Then someone knocked the door. It was hardly 10 minutes I spent with her. Kalpana's sister entered our room " How long will you talk ? Everyone wants you back outside." She passed the irritating smile.
We got out of the room and soon left their house. We agreed to give our decision in next days.
I was pleased by Kalpana's smile, shyness and her simplicity. I adored her. I liked her. We all had our opinions but to be discussed with my grandmother. She would take the final decision.

We reached our home. My grandmother was angry of something. She yelled at my eldest uncle " Why didn't you investigate about the family before meeting them? The girl's aunt (Buaji) did inter-caste marriage. Lallu-lal ji came after you left. He informed me. This marriage can't be done. No more words.Begin the next hunt."
Though everyone got surprised with this fact, I remained clueless. My story ended shortly but the memories lasted ever.



















    

Whatsapp in 1930

Background :- Since my childhood, I have always believed that despite born and brought up in an Indian middle class family, I have had the best of the resources all the time. My parents managed all very well. Whether it was buying a big fat Onida Color TV in mid 90's which essentially required a Babul's wood-made strong table to hold its weight forever. My father had to apply for a loan to bear their costs.

Getting a BSNL landline connection in mid 90's was not just filling up a simple form. The actual journey started after filling it up, where one had to dig all his VIP contacts to get it installed. When we lost all hopes of getting the telephone at home, one tired old man, holding a big black receiver, turned up one fine day and installed the device. He handed over the telephone directory saying it was free. My brother was happy to hear something free. Few bucks (Mithai ke liye) were undoubtedly given to him to get the privileges. The dry climate of Rajasthan makes its dusty particles roam around freely and stick all charming uncovered devices of the home. My over-protective mother showed her love for the phone by knitting a multicolored cover for it. So the attachments or accessories were quite prominent as well. As a kid, I didn't have a free will to call someone because its keypad was locked by a plastic cover to which a small lock was attached. The key of this lock was always put in the locked drawer, access of which was limited to my mother. Though locking up STD and local calls were the obvious restrictions.

Then came an invention of the millennium, Mobile Phone, in early 2000's and the honor was transferred from the landline to it. Though it was officially owned by my father but it was an alliance of everyone in the family, sometimes to the neighbors as well. My father hardly used it, my mother kept it in the locker to prevent us playing Snake game. Despite the peculiarities, it has been a life full of resources. I don't complain. Thanks to my parents.

Today it doesn't matter that the people are smart or not, they do have smart phones whether they could afford it or not. Of course Whatsapp App installed in it.  
Whatsapp is also an invention first of its kind.

I wonder what if Whatsapp was invented in 1930, the era of my grandparents, what would be this like ?  Let's have a look ! 

STORY (COMMENTARY) BEGINS

Leading Characters :-

GrandMa - Rukmani

GrandPa - Srinarayan

Rukmani's Sister - Dulaari

It was 1930. Rukmani and Srinarayan just got married. Srinarayan's obsession for smart-phones made him gift an IPHONE I1930 to Rukmani on wedding night.

Srinarayan excitedly said to Rukmani "This is IPHONE I1930, the world's best smart phone. Now it's yours."

"Really !" Rukmani couldn't hold her excitement and jumped on the bed like a kid.
She was just 14, so technically was a teenager kid.

"Hold on My Love. Understand the important stuff. Whatsapp !!   It is already installed in it and there is WiFi in our Haveli (A household where big families live together under one roof, specially in earlier times of India), to which you can always get connected." He explained.

"Oh ! That' great. Yeah, I have used Whatsapp several times on my mother's phone." Rukmani showed her awareness about newly invented application.

"I am happy that you are familiar with the application. It's a vital tool to be the part of this family. The status of Buaji, being the single sister among six brothers made her qualify as an undisputed group-admin of our Whatsapp group. I have requested her to add you as a member for which I had to give 100 bucks as an additional "Nek" (A kind of bribe in Indian customs and rituals). You will be added soon. " Srinarayan assured her.

"But few things, you have to keep in mind. Like for example, you have to respond (preferably with smiley or thumbs-up) to every post of your Sasu-Ma (Mother-in-Law), Jethanis (Sister-in-laws) otherwise they might get offended. Everyone responds to Bhuaji's post, there is no question about it. Even if they just post "Good Morning All", you have to respond. We have 45 people in the group. Everyone is pretty much active on Whatsapp." He further explained the family's technicalities.

After few days, Rukmani's sister Dulaari arrived at her place and queried about her daily affair with such a big family (in-laws) of 46 members. 

As Whatsapp was an integral part of her day to day life, she started in terms of Whatsapp " Everyday at 4:00 AM, Sasur ji (Father-in-law) posts 10 different pictures of Lord Krishna, followed by Buaji's 'Good Morning All :)' message. These two are daily rituals. Sasu-Ma makes sure that everyone responds to Buaji's message."

She continued "The Bahu (daughter-in-law), who promptly posts the Selfie (using date-enabled Camera) after completing the crucial tasks like moping the central floor of the Haveli, kneading the floor and washing the clothes, gets the privileges like her husband eats first that day despite the family's hierarchical structure. Lalaji (Younger brother-in-Law) always posts the riddles just to know the answer because somebody in other groups would have asked the same and in answering by copying from one group and paste it to others promptly makes him the genius, at least outside the family. Moreover, the name of the group gets changed every other day because of birthdays and marriage anniversaries of 46 members. The retired Fufaji (Husband of Buaji) maintains the list and hence changes the name and picture of the group accordingly. That's his post-retirement job but that didn't qualify him being the Group-Admin. Buaji is the ruler."

"So you celebrate this much of occasions ?" asked Dulaari shockingly. 
"Don't be surprised Dulaari ! You know, Badi Jethani (Eldest Sister-in-law) even celebrated the "Kua-Pujan" anniversary of her beloved fifth son. Annoying is her husband too who forwards all the messages he gets without even sees them. According to her spreading rumors, India has already got independence every other week. Once he sent "Kamasutra Pose" which half of the family didn't understand. I too googled it !"

Dulaari was stunned to hear her Whatsapp commentary. Me too by imagining that way :) 

Tour de 1920, An Era of Grandparents

The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of pre-1947 India is the struggle for independence. I have some perceptions about those times, believing that everyone born before 1947 was a freedom fighter. People either joined Mahatma Gandhi’s peaceful campaigns or Bhagat Singh’s aggressive ones, based on their personal choices. It seemed everyone was sent to jail at least once in their lifetime. The youth were driven by a fervent desire to gain freedom from the colonial empire. Back then, "falling in love" seemed like an undefined concept in our country.

One fine day, my friend, who could read my mind, offered me a chance to travel back in time with his remarkable time machine.

"Hey bro, you should travel to any time before 1947 and meet your fantasies," said my friend Siddhartha.

"Are you kidding?" I responded.

"No, seriously. The device is ready to go. The only bug is that you can't return for six months. But don't worry, your present time won't be lost. When you come back, you'll rejoin us as if you never left," he explained.

"Okay, then, I would probably visit my grandparents' hometown, Alwar, in 1920. Let's see if they were having a great time."

We both chuckled.

The time machine had been successfully tested several times before, so I wasn't afraid. Though I had no clue how I would handle the people of different times, generations, and mindsets, I brushed aside all uncertain thoughts. I took my grandparents' blessings by folding my hands in front of their picture and packed my backpack with clothes and a few eatables.

I started my journey and landed in Alwar. It was a sunny morning on October 2, 1920.

The city looked more like a village, with vast bare land. I could hardly see any houses, though some astounding architectures caught my attention. Men were properly dressed in dhotis, kurtas, and pagdis. Women were wrapped in dhotis with covered faces. Carts and bicycles were the most favored means of transport, though people mostly walked. Men and women moved in different groups, with men leading and guiding the chattering women. It was just as I had imagined. I was amazed to see people working on October 2, which is Gandhi Jayanti, until I recalled that it was 1920 and Gandhiji was still alive.

I quickly reached the Mohalla, where my grandfather and his family had lived. Almost everyone on my way to my ancestors' Haveli glanced at me with anger. As I entered the Mohalla, the women shouted, "They have come, they are here!" and dragged their children inside their houses. The men hid themselves too. I had no clue what I had done wrong to cause such fear and hatred among my people. Did I look that scary?

Then I saw a boy fearlessly walking towards me. "Hey, go back where you came from! We want to live a free life here."

I asked the boy, "Hey young man! What's going on here? What did I do wrong? Why is everyone scared of me?"

The boy angrily replied, "I am not scared of you, you white idiot. You English people can't ruin us. We will throw you out of my country." He then punched me hard in the stomach.

Gathering my strength, I replied, "I am not English. My name is Ravi. My grandfather lives here. His name is Madan-Lal. He is the Tehsildar of Alwar District."

The boy curiously interrupted me, "Oh! You sound like us. But there is no Madan-Lal here except me. How do you know that I want to become Tehsildar?"

I had forgotten for a moment that I had traveled to the past. It took some time for me to realize it. The person standing in front of me was my teenage grandfather. How young, fearless, and dynamic he looked. I was filled with excitement. I couldn’t explain to him that I came from his future. He probably wouldn’t understand.

I diverted his curiosity. "I mean, you could become Tehsildar. You are young and dynamic."

"Thanks, but I need to pass class X to become one. I have been failing class X exams for the last three years. You know what? Narmada is 14 years old already, and if I don't pass this year, she will marry someone else. Her father is a rich contractor. The financial gap can be bridged by my job as Tehsildar, which would allow my marriage proposal."

"Hold on, Daadu. You will become Tehsildar and marry Ms. Narmada. I can see it..." I stopped myself from revealing the truth. "May your mouth be filled with ghee and sugar. But how will I pass the class X exams? Despite topping the class, I failed all subjects except Maths and Hindi. I got zero in English, which I believe is useless. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like English people. No one explains science the way it should be. We have to memorize it, which I can’t. Above all, I haven’t seen Narmada since the last Jagannath Ji Mela," he said with disappointment.

"Hey, don't worry. I will teach you the subjects if you promise to introduce me to Ms. Narmada," I offered, desperate to meet my grandmother.

"How could you help me? Have you already passed class X?" He was doubtful.

"Yes, I can help you. I am pursuing a Ph.D. and studying science in English," I explained.

"What? What is a Ph.D.? Is it after class X? If something exists after class X, why do it if you can become Tehsildar first? It's a waste of time and money. My parents can't even afford private tuition fees. You seem educated and probably the only option to solve my problem," he said, partially convinced of my higher studies and teaching him.

After two months of rigorous planning to dodge his relatives and friends, we finally met Ms. Narmada, my grandmother, at the fair. My grandpa introduced me to his girlfriend. I touched her feet. She was extremely shy but quite happy with my grandpa.

Upset, she asked, "Bauji wants to marry off all his daughters on the same day soon. When will you become Tehsildar? I can't marry someone else."

"Don't worry, Narmada. You will become the mother of my children. That's my promise. Someone is calling your name. We have to go now," my enthusiastic grandpa reassured her.

We returned to the city and studied hard for the next few weeks. When my six-month stay was almost over, I told him I had to go. He was disappointed.

"I did very well in the exams. You have been a great help. Can't you wait until my results? I want you to attend my wedding. I will convince your parents. Please stay with me," he insisted.

A tear hung at the edge of his eyelid. Neither of us could resist our emotions.

"Hey bro! I would stay if I could. But I promise we will meet again," I said, holding back my emotions.

"Do you promise? Will I see your parents too?"

"Yes, you will surely meet them. I assure you," I smiled.

We exchanged smiles and said goodbye.

It was a wonderful time spent with him and his surroundings. I was astonished to see my forefathers and their family of 100 members living together under one roof with limited resources. They ate together. Despite financial constraints, my grandpa never left his family and became Tehsildar, the only boy in the Mohalla. Above all, he fell in love with my grandma and passionately achieved his dream of marrying her. What a wonderful journey it was with him. I will cherish it all my life.

Kissi se Kehna Mat

I was in a family get-together when I received a call from Accenture. Accenture is a Multinational Software Company, which means it has offices in various countries of the world.

The girl from the other side of the phone probably rolled her tongue to create an alien accent.
She said " Hi, This is Sujata calling from Accenture Corporate Office Mumbai. It is to inform you that you have been selected as a Senior Software Engineer. Rest of the details will be emailed to you shortly. Thanks. Have a nice day."

Though it was hard to understand her language in "pretended to be like an American accent", I managed to grab the abstract of it.
I got a job in Accenture. I couldn't resist my exhilaration that I informed my father.

I said with excitement " Papa, I got the job in Accenture. Just now, they called me."
Papa with equal intensity reverted " Oh that's good news. Isn't Accenture a bigger company? Will you get more package here?"
I joyfully answered his queries" Yes, its one of the biggest in its working domain and my package will also be 7.5 lakhs/annum. But don't disclose this news to anyone, Papa because I want to be sure of my offer letter, joining location and other important details. This may take few days. I am anyway going to Bangalore and return directly to Sunny's marriage after 5 days. We will then inform everyone. What do you say?"
He said with agreement" No, we will even inform after you join the company. All the best."

As I left, a lot of  bilateral consensus happened between people, which are as follows.

Consensus 1:- My father said to my mother" Ravi got a new job in Mumbai. The company has offices abroad as well. Please don't disclose it to anyone now."
For my mother, the job location matters more than the company and its offered salary. She has an impression that every software engineer goes abroad and settles down there, which is true to some extent. 

Consensus 2:- My mother shared her mixed feeling with my Mausi(her sister) " Ravi got senior position in Mumbai and after few months, he will also go abroad like everyone. Don't reveal it now to anyone."
For my Mausi, senior position only means more money. 

Consensus 3:- My Mausi discussed it with his son (my II cousin) " Ravi became senior and soon going to abroad."
My cousin made some calculations in his mind and clarified my Mausi's doubts " Accenture sends his people to Europe. For a Senior Software Engineer, they offer around 5000 Euros per month. That means 4 lakhs per month."
My Mausi almost fainted after hearing that.      

Consensus 4:-  My cousin continued to disclose to my I cousin " Did you get to know about Ravi? He is going to Europe and will be earning 4 lakhs per month. Fod diya bande ne (He progressed incredibly). 
My I cousin replied " No I wasn't aware of this. But sounds great."
My II cousin " In that case, please don't say that I told you. "

My II cousin extended this to his father.

Consensus 5:- His father (my uncle) told his wife (my aunt) " Ravi is going abroad. He will settle down there after his marriage. MK (my father) has one daughter and one son. The daughter will go her home after marriage and the son will settle down abroad. Why to have kids then if they don't live with you? Anyway, they have not informed us so you also don't share it with anyone."

Actually, the marriage of neither my sister nor mine were fixed at that point of time. 

Cycling Chain:- The message was spread in the entire family, friends, neighbors and their friends in just 5 days.

I attended my cousin's marriage after my return from Bangalore. I was unaware of what happened when I was not around.

I was looking for my friend then suddenly Mr. Gupta (our neighbor) patted my shoulder very hardly " Oh congratulations Ravi ! Naam roshan kar diya bhai ( You made everyone proud)"
Soon Mr. Saini (my father's colleague) also joined us.
"Did you hear that Saini ji? Ravi is going abroad. You know, the money we earn in a year, he will earn in a month there." Mr Gupta continued with laughter.

Was it funny that Mr. Gupta and Mr. Saini couldn't resist their laughter? Oh, my poor sense of humor that I could not sense the joke. But I didn't understand where his story came from till I realized that it was not only his contribution, but the entire family and friends to create a marvelous fictional story about my job.

I pissed off in the beginning but then couldn't resist laughing after tracing the whole chain of consensus back. It was fun. Indeed, our social networking is better than Facebook :)

The Desires of a "Small Town Boy"

I was born and brought up in a very small city of Rajasthan, India. I had a strict mother, a busy father and 4 years elder sister. My mother never allowed us to play more than 1 hour and watch TV except on Sundays. My father, on the other hand, never cared that much. The drawing room of the government allotted house had fulfilled the purpose of our sleeping-cum-studying room. But in case of visitors staying overnight, it quite often sacrificed as a guest room. The room showed the ever adjusting nature of an Indian middle class.

My mother used to watch daily soaps as much as she could do. The sudden ups and downs of the magnitude of the voice, referring to the crucial moments of the TV serials, made us to draw our own stories. If the dinner coincided with those TV programs, we could cross-verify our innovative stories with the actual ones. It's hard to imagine now that TV was hardly switched off the whole day.

The years had passed in a similar way. Over the years, my mother limited her responsibilities up to asking the same question after every exam; "How was the exam?" My father was only aware of which class I was studying. They, undoubtedly, became active at the results. My sister was always appreciated by them, but I was quite a disappointment for them.
I loved to play cricket but never allowed to play after class IX. They said " There exists a lot of competition and playing in Indian Cricket is an impossible task so why to waste time playing it. Just concentrate on your studies." I never understood why playing cricket was all about getting selected in the Indian Cricket Team.

Anyway life moved on, I reached the class X. The year when all your family members, friends of your parents and neighbours become super-active as if this is as important as selecting the Prime Ministerial candidate for the country. All vague ideas of studying more than 15 hours, A BIG NO to play, movies and social gatherings. They offered the logic of focusing those crucial years (X-XI-XII class) to have a great life ahead full of luxuries. I wondered why, then, not a single person around me had all the luxuries even after they would have sacrificed their crucial years.

I was in a good school but supplementing your school education with famous private tutors in the city was a trend you could not ignore. Science, Maths and English were more privileged subjects for getting extra classes. Life was limited to school, extra classes, tuitions and self-studies in the drawing room, next to my mother's theater.

One fine day after my X class exams, I spent the whole day playing cricket. My busy-turned-into-super-active father was waiting at the door.
He asked in an angry tone "Desire fulfilled ?" He continued " Guptaji's son has already gone to Kota. He is doing IIT there. "
My mother interrupted " What is IIT ? Never heard this term before !" I didn't know about it either." My father ignored her question" Arey, our prince doesn't even know about it and others have started doing it. I have decided that you will start your tuitions from tomorrow on. No more playing."

The best thing about government houses that your neighbours keep on changing. I was leaving my home at 5:00 AM when I first saw her playing badminton with her brother. Our eyes met but I had to leave. So the whole day, I ignored unimplementable mathematical equations, never seeable atomic level chemical equations and  unachievable speed of light, and thought of coming back to home and see her again.  Back home, she was already there with her mother.  I was anxious. My mother introduced me with them.
She said " This is Mrs. Sharma, our new neighbour, and her daughter Smriti. Smriti didi will be didi's college." Oh crap !! I was collapsed to the core.  Nothing was worse than calling your first crush "Didi (Sister)" 

I studied in a boy's (UniSex) school. The private tutors made two separate batches for boys & girls. The timings of the batches were also separated by 12 hours. Though it was very unlikely in a small town that a girl gets into the Science-Maths stream. Most families of the girls were obsessed for Arts. They could limit their girls to go out to the maximum. Arts students had the privilege not to attend regular classes. Tuitions were not needed either or unavailable too.
In this era, after a long time, I saw a beautiful girl. She was like an alien flower in the drought. I was not sure of whether my mother did it intentionally or she didn't care of my teenage fantasies.

I was supposed to drop my 4 years elder sister to evening classes and get her back safely. I couldn' t understand why I got that task from my parents. Was I considered to be strong enough to fight rapists, eve-teasers or bad boys or was my sister frail to defend her? I was always talked about my future education despite my love for cricket. My sister, on other hand, was talked about her marriage, ignoring her interest for higher education.

I wanted to get along with my first crush. I wanted to drop out after school. I wanted to play cricket all my life. I wanted my sister to live freely without restrictions. I never dared to question my parents and the society by whom I was driven. I was never answered.