It was told that they have found a suitable boy. 

Anika was summoned the very next week. Having reached the ‘marriageable’ age of 25, she was supposed to be the latecomer, into the marriage market. Her father had tried getting her married at 22, but it was met with resistance from many people. Mainly because Anika had wanted to work after graduating, and the man she was supposed to get married to was 9 years her senior. 

But this time, even Anika knew it was foolproof. The guy was nearer to her age, just 3 years older. The family was checked okay. And the biggest sign of all, she wasn’t told about it being finalized until she heard her phone ring on a weekday in the afternoon. When she picked it up, she found her father’s gravelly voice laced with impending doom. Maybe it was in her head.  

Turns out, it wasn’t. She was told to come to Nani’s house on Saturday. They will meet on Sunday. 

She wasn’t asked about getting married if she wanted to get married. She was told. 

Throughout the topsy-turvy curves of the hills, in the Himachal Roadways bus, she sat on the window side and looked out. Even though she knew her life was about to change, she knew she wasn’t supposed to make a big deal out of it. But she wanted to. 

There had never been a guy she wanted to have a relationship with, not because of the lack of feelings. But she had always known that an arranged marriage is the only thing that will be approved.  

So many kinds of honest feelings were quashed. Many career opportunities were missed. Many desires are reserved inside the mind. Many opinions stopped at the mouth, never to be voiced. 

Where were these thoughts, and desires, supposed to go? 

They were all waiting for her. It was clear, like an ambush waiting to happen. The funny thing about Indian relatives, or relatives anywhere, is the way they are subtle.  

You would find yourself innocently laughing at a joke, and the next thing you know, you will be hearing advice on marriage and how it is ‘time’ that you married too. 

 

The father’s ultimatum came first. “The boy earns good and comes from a decent family.” 

 

Anika realized, who can trace the decency from the family to the child? 

 

“We will go tomorrow.” 

 

Anika knew that responding, in any shape or form, won’t be accepted. So, she did nothing. Years of training, drilled into her mind by her mother, have done the job. She didn’t say anything, instead just roamed around, taking in all that was happening at her grandparent’s place.  

 

It was supposed to be a puja, but under the disguise of innocently converging relatives for a common event, Anika saw the subtle way she was being coaxed into submission. 

One minute it was her aunt, telling her that the “guy is from a good background, so you should at least meet him once.” Sometimes it was her Nani, half bent from age but ruthlessly devoted to seeing all her granddaughters married off. “The good matches never return. You should grab one when you have a chance. You are 25, It’s already getting too late.” 

Then there were the aunts and their husbands. Each. She was told about the way it all works out. How marriage isn’t always that tough. How it will work, and how her parents worry about her. 

She felt the walls closing in. 

How does one go about this? Arranged to love someone, bear their children, live with their families, work with them?  

Why does one follow this? What does one get? Acceptance into society? What for?  

The things people do, just to belong somewhere in this world.  

Then as the day progressed, the arguments became vehement. Anika was yet to reply to any of these ‘suggestions’, but it was clear. She was outnumbered and made to listen to advice because they were all older and with experience. 

“You have to get married anyway. And yes, it is a compromise, but at least when you get older, you will pass your time by fighting with one another. There will be a company.” 

Marrying for company. That was the advice given to her by her uncle, the only one who had divorced his first wife and married again. Both of them arranged, both of them the result of somewhat the same proceedings. Of coercion and toxic manipulation. 

Anika sought the irony in this, but her slowly battering heart couldn’t help her mind find it. 

Anika had dreams. A career that could take her to various places. To meet new people. To like new foods. To see different weather. Will this guy have the same things in mind? 

Probably not. And so, she would have to ‘compromise’. Shrink herself short. Wear longer clothes and be more bashful. Keep silent and ask for permission. 

This was what they all meant. To have a ‘well-settled’ life.  

But nothing hurt more than her father’s words, later into the night when everyone else was asleep, and she was trying too as well. Her mummy and daddy have come in with the pretext of finding her a mattress.  

“I don’t want any drama tomorrow. And if you come back home, with your dupatta in your hand, I won’t be there. You are going to be responsible tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.” 

 

And that had sealed her fate. As well as her lips. 

 

Throughout the day, she hadn’t responded once to anyone. She still didn’t. But now she knew. This was inevitable. She turned on her bed, facing the wall. Her back was an answer for both of them. 

And for the first tie, Anika realized that submission is a bitter pill to swallow when you do not want to submit, but have been outnumbered. 

What a foundation. For a married life, arranged. 

 

This post represents the author’s personal views and experiences. iDare doesn’t endorse or take responsibility for the opinions expressed.   

  

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