The Marriage Bureau for Rich People

The next day, Aruna’s house was thoroughly cleaned, and a fresh, colorful spread put on the bed. Two folding chairs were taken down from the top of the cupboard and four more were borrowed from the neighbors. She and her mum worked in the kitchen for several hours frying different snacks. A packet of sweets and a couple of soft-drink bottles were bought.

The house was brightened and looked festive. Her mother was wearing the new sari and her father was wearing a neatly pressed dhoti. Aruna was on her own in the kitchen, changing, when she heard her mother say in the other room, “Why did you come so late? I asked you to come early today. Go in and change quickly. Help your sister. Make sure she wears the red stones necklace.”

Vani slipped into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Aruna wound the long cloth of the sari around herself and tucked the folds into the waistband of her petticoat. She took the other end of the sari and placed it over her shoulder. Vani got down on her knees in front of Aruna and adjusted the pleats of Aruna’s sari so they fell straight. Then she got up and helped Aruna pin the end of the sari that was over her shoulder to her blouse.

Aruna opened the dark blue jewelry box. Nestling on the maroon velvet inside were a pair of earrings and a necklace. She put on the earrings, took out the necklace, and placed it around her neck. Her sister moved behind her and fastened the clasp.Vani then went into the bathroom to wash her face. Aruna just stood there blankly.

Vani came out of the bathroom and quickly put on a plainer sari. Aruna moved mechanically to help Vani. The two sisters had just got ready when there was a knock on the kitchen door and they heard their mother call out. Vani said, “Yes, amma. We are ready.”

Aruna watched as her sister and mother bustled around the small kitchen getting everything ready. Soon, they heard voices at the front door. Aruna heard Shastry-uncle’s voice and then her father answering.

Shastry-uncle pinched Vani’s cheek. “You are looking beautiful too, my dear.” He turned to Aruna’s mother and said, “Sister, take some ash and smear it on Vani’s cheeks. We don’t want them to prefer Vani, do we?”

Vani laughed at her uncle’s words. Aruna refused to smile. He walked up to her and said, “Don’t look so gloomy, Aruna. They have come here seeking a bride for their son, not a human sacrifice.”

Once upon a time, when life was innocent and light, Aruna had been similarly dressed and waiting for a young man and his family to come and see her. She had been nervous, obviously, but also very excited at this event that might take her to the next stage in life.

The young man who had come to see her, Sushil, was five years older than she. He was working as an accountant in a ship chandlery firm. He was fair, not very tall, and had a pleasant, open face with a ready smile. Sushil’s family was quite small—just his parents and himself. Apparently, a younger brother had died by drowning in the sea several years earlier. The match was ideal in many respects—the age difference was just right; Sushil was taller than Aruna but not too tall; their horoscopes matched; he had a good, if not quite ideal, job; the families were distantly related; their economic circumstances were pretty much the same.

Both sides approved the match. Talks progressed over some weeks to dowry and other exchange of gifts, with Shastry-uncle acting as the mediator between the parties. Aruna was impressed by how Shastry-uncle (as he later told her) had convinced Sushil’s family that the groom was not a civil servant, they couldn’t really expect the dowry they were asking for, and then argued with her father that nowadays government jobs were not everything and private jobs were almost as good. Finally, these matters were all settled. Aruna’s father consulted his calendar and pulled out two auspicious dates—one in a couple of weeks for the engagement and another in four months’ time for the actual wedding.

A couple of months after the engagement Aruna’s father fell seriously ill. The illness dragged on and the wedding was postponed. Her father got worse and the doctors were baffled.They could not diagnose what disease her father had contracted. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Months passed. The doctors—one junior and one senior doctor—came up with different theories and drug regimes. Nothing helped.

Sushil and his mother came to their house one evening and broke off the engagement. Aruna’s mother protested that her husband would get better any day and they could proceed with the wedding.

“We have been very patient,” said Sushil’s mother. “But there are limits. Does the education department cover the cost of a retired teacher’s hospitalization?”

Aruna was shocked into silence. Sushil’s mother had always been nice to her before. Aruna looked at Sushil, but he looked embarrassed and avoided her eyes.

“You agreed to give us two hundred thousand rupees as dowry, in addition to forty grams of gold and a scooter. Can you still afford that dowry and celebrate the wedding in style?” asked Sushil’s mother.

Aruna and her mother were silent. Aruna had been handling the finances for the last few months and she knew they couldn’t do it. More than half their savings were eaten up by the medical bills, and her father was still unwell and they didn’t know how much more money would be needed for his treatment.

“One has to be realistic in these matters,” said Sushil’s mother to Aruna’s mother. “I would be the last person to question a woman’s marriage, but I cannot help feeling that your mangalsootram has come at the expense of your daughter’s. If your husband had died quickly, his savings would not have been exhausted and your daughters could have been married off.”

Aruna always regretted that she had been so shocked at the woman’s words, that she had not made any response as a shamefaced Sushil and his brazen mother stalked out of their house.

Her father’s illness continued for a few more months. Shastry-uncle found another house for them and helped them move. He said that just before Aruna’s father fell ill, he had told Shastry-uncle that the vaastu of their house was wrong. There was no door or window facing east, and that was trapping ill energies in the house.The new house had correct vaastu. In addition, their new house was smaller and the rent was cheaper.

The junior doctor came to Aruna one day when she was at her father’s bedside and said that he thought her father had a simple viral infection that had somehow attacked his liver. He asked her if she would consent to a new experimental drug that he had read about in a foreign medical journal. In desperation, she agreed.

The illness left her father as suddenly as it had come. Everybody had their own theory about why her father recovered from the mystery illness. The junior doctor told Aruna that the convalescence would be long and that her father would not be himself for months, if not years.

When he was strong enough, Aruna showed him their financial status. He wept and said, “I wish I had died.Then the money that has taken all my life to save would have been of some use to my family rather than be eaten up by doctors and pharmacists.”

Shastry-uncle brought a few more matches after her father recovered. But they were all inferior to the first match—they were older, their subcaste was not as good; the jobs were worse, one boy had even been unemployed; the men were fatter, shorter, or darker, or all three. Aruna realized that in their changed financial circumstances, she didn’t have much choice, but she sickened of the whole experience and started protesting at being shown off to various people like a prize cow at a cattle mandi. Shastry-uncle finally stopped bringing more matches. This was the first proposal in almost a year. Aruna hoped it wouldn’t start another round like last time, as she didn’t want again to feel she was part of a cattle market.

Aruna stood in the kitchen, still as a pillar. She became aware of voices in the other room. The guests had arrived. She heard Shastry-uncle saying, “Welcome to my sister and brother-in-law’s house. We are a simple, respectable family. My brother-in-law is a retired government teacher. His forefathers are traditional temple priests of the large temple at Annavaram. In fact, his elder brother is still the priest there. The girls are both well educated. They have also read the holy Shastras in both Telugu and the original Sanskrit.”

Aruna’s mother gave her a tray of snacks. Aruna pulled the pallu of her sari over her head and walked slowly into the living room. She was barefoot and her silver anklets tinkled as she walked forward. Her head was bent as she kept her eyes on the ground in front of her feet. She walked to where her father, uncle, and the guests were sitting. She put the tray of snacks down on the low table in front of them and stood by her father. There were five guests—she could make out the groom and his parents. She didn’t know who the others were, but they looked like the groom’s uncle and aunt. All the guests were looking at her intently and she was embarrassed and self-conscious.

The silence in the room stretched on and Aruna was getting more and more uncomfortable. Just as she was planning to go back into the kitchen, the groom’s mother asked, “Daughter, what did you study?”

The conversation spluttered to a stop. Aruna’s mother came out of the kitchen with glasses of water on a tray. She must have left instructions for Vani to stay in the kitchen, because her sister did not come out.

Everybody reached out and took a plate each. Aruna’s mother made a small sign to Aruna to serve the water. Aruna took the tray from her mother and placed it on the table. She gave a glass to each of the guests. Shastry-uncle, who was sitting in front of the groom, stood up from his chair and asked Aruna to sit down in his place. Aruna shook her head in refusal but her uncle insisted and Aruna sat down delicately.

Shastry-uncle came back after seeing the guests off. “Right,” he said. “That went well. They are a good family. I know them from way before. They are also being very reasonable. All they want is a scooter and one lakh rupees. Where do you get bank employees for one hundred thousand rupees nowadays?”

Everybody looked at Aruna’s father. He looked up and said in irritation, “Why are you all looking at me like that? The dowry is one hundred thousand rupees, the scooter is thirty thousand, and the wedding ceremony will cost at least seventy thousand. I do not have two lakh rupees and that’s that.”

“Yes, and what has that got to do with this? It has been divided down the generations and only a small piece of it came to my father. And only half of that belongs to me. The other half belongs to my brother.”

“Relax, babu-garu. I am worried about my nieces’ weddings. And I am not the only one.Your brother is a good man. When I explained the situation, he was willing to sell the land and use it for Aruna and Vani’s weddings. He only has one son and he doesn’t need the money. His wife wasn’t too happy, but he promised me that if Aruna’s wedding was fixed, he will sell the land and help you,” said Shastry.

Aruna’s mother had been silent all this while and now she spoke out. “My brother is trying to help our family.Your daughter is crying, and all you are worried about is your pride.”

Shastry-uncle raised his hands in a placatory manner. “Relax. Everybody is trying to do their best for the girls. We are all family—this hasn’t gone anywhere else.”

“Even if my brother gives me the whole piece of land, it still won’t be enough. It is in the middle of nowhere and it is not very fertile, either.You will be lucky to get twenty bags of rice in a good year from it,” said Aruna’s father.

“Brother-in-law, you don’t go out enough. Land prices all over the state have gone through the roof. That piece of land will go a long way toward paying for Aruna’s wedding.”

“Even with the land, I cannot get Aruna married off.The money still won’t be enough.We will have to find other money for the dowry. Once she is married, we will have other expenses—we have to spend money on treating our son-in-law properly. She might get pregnant, in which case we will have to pay for her childbirth expenses. Also, we need money to pay forVani’s education.We cannot do all these things without the money Aruna is bringing in as well,” said her father, shouting.

Aruna and Vani were hugging each other, crying. Aruna’s mother was horrified—she was standing still, with her eyes wide, her raised hand covering her open mouth.

When Aruna’s father still did not reply, he continued, “Why am I trying to teach you the difference between morality and immorality? You are the teacher.You are older than me—both in age and in relation—being my elder sister’s husband.You always taught us that money is not the most important thing in a man’s life. Leading an upright life—a life of dharma—is much more important; this is what you have always told us, isn’t it? What happened to that moral man? Why has money become so important all of a sudden, that you are willing to go against every convention, every tradition, against the Shastras, the holy books themselves, and keep a grown daughter in the house unmarried?”

Shastry-uncle turned back. “Who among us is rich? Was my dad rich? Was your dad rich? Were we ever wealthy? We always had to look after every paisa. All of us. How many times have you bought jewelry for your wife? A lot less often than you wanted to, I am sure.When my wife died, she had just her mangalsootram and silver anklets. Everything else was gone—sold off to pay for my daughter’s wedding. Forget jewelry for our wives—how many times did we deny some small thing that our children wanted because we couldn’t afford it? What did you tell me when I used to get angry about that?You used to say that it was our karma—we had to bear it with patience.”

Shastry-uncle raised his hands in disgust. He said, “This is truly Kali Kaalam, the age of evil. What the elders said is true. Honest men turn knaves.Teachers forget what they learned at their mother’s breast. Rivers turn against their banks. Priests start loving money more than God. I cannot believe this of you, brother-in-law. You were the man I respected above everybody. If men like you get corrupted . . .”

Aruna turned to go into the kitchen to change back into her normal clothes. She heard a sob behind her and looked back. Her father had his face in his arms and he was crying. This was so unusual that she rushed back to him and knelt in front of his chair. She took his gnarled hands in her own hands and slowly pulled them away from his face.

“When I retired and got the letter confirming my pension, I knew it had been calculated wrong. I was a math teacher, after all. But I said nothing. I took the side of adharma, immorality, and all our troubles since then are a result of that wrong decision,” said Aruna’s father.

“You mustn’t say that, naanna. You were not the only one who received that letter. More than a hundred employees retired at the same time as you, and they are all in the same boat,” said Aruna.

Her father shook his head. “No,” he said. “We all have to take responsibility for our own actions. I wouldn’t have minded if the consequences of my deeds fell on me alone. But the burden of these consequences is falling more heavily on your young head, my dear daughter, than it is on mine. I don’t know how to bear that.”

“I’m sorry . . . ,” said Mr. Ali. He was deeply embarrassed that Rehman had been arrested and thrown in a police lockup; on the other hand, he was relieved that his son was not in the hospital, seriously injured.

“That’s all right. It’s better than going after thugs or pickpockets. A better class of prisoner, you know,” said the inspector, and laughed.

It was evening and Mr. and Mrs. Ali and Azhar were in an interview room at the police station with the inspector and a constable. Mrs. Ali was holding a tiffin carrier with home-cooked food in it. Rehman had not yet been brought in.

The inspector smiled and said, “I don’t see a problem. He is only in lockup at the moment. He and his friends have not yet been charged. You can feed him if you want.”

A heavily scratched table took up most of the available space in the small room. There were several chairs around the table. Rehman came in. He looked tired. His beard looked even more straggly and unkempt than before. There was a large contusion on his forehead and there were several purple bruises on his arms. He was tanned heavily and his eyes looked huge and startlingly white against his face.

Mrs. Ali gave a cry and rushed toward Rehman. He winced when she put her arms around him but he didn’t say anything. She didn’t let go of her son for several minutes. Finally, she stood a bit away from him, and Rehman greeted his father and uncle.They all sat down. Mrs. Ali sat next to her son and held his hand.

Azhar said, “What have you done? You are hurt so badly. You are causing so much distress to your mum and dad. Why did you get involved in this protest?”

Rehman said to his uncle, “Maama, if everybody thought like that, nothing would ever change. Didn’t somebody say that for evil to happen, it is only necessary for good people to do nothing?”

Mr. Ali said, “But this is not evil you are protesting against, is it? The government wants to create industries and provide employment to our youth.You are stopping the economic progress of our country.”

Azhar said, “That’s right. We won’t have more than half an hour or so. Let’s talk about what we can do. How many people were arrested along with you?”

“I can ask my friend if he can somehow lose your papers and let you go. There is political pressure in a case like this, but I am sure they won’t miss one person out of thirty,” said Azhar.

Azhar said, “Don’t be naive, boy. He won’t do it for just anybody. But he and I go back a long way. He might do it for me.There’s no harm in asking.”

Rehman shook his head. “No way. I am not going to be a party to anything so disgusting. Anyway, I cannot leave my friends like that and go off by myself. This is a great opportunity to highlight the case to the media even more. If I do what you are suggesting, then everything we’ve done over the last week becomes meaningless. It will also be a betrayal of the villagers who’ve reposed their trust in us.”

Mr. Ali broke in. “Azhar, stop it.You are not going to convince him. What does our anxiety or shame mean to him? When I was growing up, it was considered a black mark against the whole community if the police even entered the village on a case. Now, my own son has been arrested and our feelings are nothing to him.”

Mrs. Ali started weeping. She said, “What can I say, son? As always, I am caught between you and your father. I don’t know whom to listen to, or what is right and wrong anymore. All I can see is that you’ve been beaten badly.”