The house reeked of an amalgam of masala powders, expensive cosmetics and mingled perfumes from flowers like the Indian jasmine and marigolds. Piya’s parents had made every arrangement in order to make their only daughter’s wedding as memorable and joyous as possible.
“Who will grind the turmeric paste?”
The bride’s mother could be heard hollering at the maids — some of the girls were working in the household for as long as memory could travel while some had been hired from a local “service centre”. Of late, they had been doing brisk business owing to the dearth in the need for full-time domestic helps.
“None of you will get your wages until the work is done to my satisfaction.”
Sunayini Mitra’s voice was enough to start up the human engines again. Those maids had been working round the clock as it was an occasion for the most elaborate of all celebrations. Bireshwar and Sunayini Mitra’s daughter, the lovely Piya, was getting married to the scion from the family whose origins took them back to Raja Rammohan Roy.
Kanishka was as handsome as any girl could ever dream about or for that matter, any boy could aspire to become. Soft-spoken, with a deliberately accentuated drawl, which showed off his Oxford University education, he was the quintessential gentleman. Medium in stature and dark in complexion, his attire was always impeccably British. Kanishka had just returned from the UK after having done his Masters in anthropology. Despite living there for close to five years, he was a true Bengali at heart. He could recite Tagore as well as converse in the diction with ease and finesse. He liked Piya as soon as he, along with his parents, visited their place after an invitation.
“Have you ever been to England?”
Kanishka had asked Piya as soon as the elders had left them alone to have some private chat. Growing up in the northern fringes of Kolkata with its big portico houses and never ending staircases, he always used to consider that the southern parts boasted of people with very “liberal” mindsets. Until the time he went abroad for further studies.
He wanted to be frank with Piya. This he had decided before even he had stepped into their house. He wanted to tell her that despite having a few emotional entanglements there, it’d ultimately be the Indian, more particularly a Bengali, girl who’d rule his home and heart.
“No. Never.”
Piya had answered back, with her head lowered as all Indian girls are expected to do, well aware that her friends and cousins were putting their ears surreptitiously behind the curtains.
“Would you like to accompany me?”
For the very first time, Piya experienced an inner turmoil she had never felt before. She had overheard from her parents’ conversation that Kanishka’s parents had asked for a hefty lump sum as dowry as part of the marriage settlement.
***
“You would hardly understand what the times are, sitting as you do all day long within the confines of these four walls.”
Piya’s father was raising a hand over all protestations from her mother’s side. “Don’t you know that asking for dowry is punishable by law and we can place these people behind bars? You know, don’t you, that she is our only daughter?” Piya’s mother, the otherwise docile and submissive homemaker, was speaking with marked anger in her voice. She added further, “Just look at you! With what calm and serenity you are accepting this outrage of our daughter’s modesty. If I had not heard you speaking for women’s empowerment in seminars, I would have never believed that you had double standards.”
“But the groom is one in a million. How could I refuse them? Moreover what they are asking for, comes within our capabilities.”
“The question is not whether we can afford to pay.”
***
Piya had overheard the conversation between her parents a few days back. She had wondered at the courage, which her mother, quite understandably, had mustered to speak up against the patriarch of their household. A characteristic, which she knows, had never been exhibited before.
Piya was a petite girl of 23 — an age, which is considered opportune for girls to get married in most Bengali households. She was fair, with glowing skin and lustrous hair. The latter often tied up in a little ponytail. She was learning Hindustani classical music and studying chemistry at Ashutosh College.
Piya was sincere about her music. A few days ago, she had won the first prize at an inter-college singing competition. Her mornings always started with an hour of riyaz and only then did she sit with her college notes.
She knew that Kanishka was a good student and would eventually make a good husband as well. So she said “yes” when asked by her parents whether she liked the boy.
***
When the wedding bells eventually rang for Piya, the entire household was jubilant.
“Look at her! All beaming and blushing! You’ll make a wonderful new bride, Piya,” their neighbour, Arundhati mashi, who had come over to supervise proceedings, said.
“Can I have a word with your daughter, Mr Mitra?”
Kanishka’s father had come over to put the seal, as if it was a contract of some sort, over his son’s wedding arrangements. That his son was left besotted by their daughter’s looks as well as her demeanour was not unknown to him.
“Yes?”
Piya’s father had welcomed his would-be son-in-law’s father with open arms and a heart full of happiness for their only daughter, soon to step into a new stage in her life.
“I would like to have a word with your daughter, you see, in seclusion. I hope you’ll grant this wish of mine.”
“But….? Everything has been finalised, you know.”
“But I insist on my request. Consider it to be one of my whims.”
Piya’s father shouted, turning his back to his sudden and whimsical guest. “Call Piya right now.”
***
When the two, the prospective bride and her would-be father-in-law, were left alone and the former had made sure that there’d be no one to prick a needle into the private conversation, Kanishka’s father began, “You’re soon to be a part of our household. You cannot imagine how happy we are. But I’d like to ask you, a question personally. Have you given consent by your own free will or has there been pressure from your parents? Reply after giving it serious thought.”
Piya sat with her head lowered for a couple of minutes.
Only after she was certain that she could withstand the piercing eyes from a person who considered that every girl has a right to say her views regarding her choice of life partners, did Piya say, “Baba, Ma have pressurised me to accept the marriage proposal. But frankly, I want to study further and am confident that I’d be able to choose my husband with my own abilities, not relying on my parents’ bank balance.”
Piya thought that she had uttered the unutterable, considering all the arrangements had been made from both ends. But what she hadn’t expected was the uproarious laughter that emanated from the person confronting her.
“Bravo!”
At first Piya was left speechless. She felt that, in the first place, she had made an outrageous statement and in the second, it had decidedly struck her that her would-be father-in-law might be mad.
“This is what I wanted to see in my future daughter-in-law.” Kanishka’s father had stood up from his seat and was standing, with a beaming look spread all over his otherwise dark countenance.
“Bravo!” He repeated. “I had wanted to see for myself whether you’re as intelligent as Kanishka, my son, has promised you to be. I appreciate and respect your views and frankly, find it hard to annul the arrangements at this eleventh hour. I would plead you to agree to become my somewhat-eligible son’s lawfully wedded wife.”
Piya had hardly expected this reaction. She had thought that she’d been able to douse the man’s ego. But what she got was an ounce of affection, which bowled her over.
“I would be immensely happy and would consider myself fortunate if you decide to pursue your studies after the wedding. I’d see to it myself that you face no hurdle in finding financial independence, at least from my household. I’d be too proud of you if you accept me as your father-in-law and my son however, he may have behaved with you, as your life companion.”
The man meant what he said.
Piya smiled and this was about all Kanishka’s father had wanted to notice. He knew that this girl’s “No” as an answer to this private conversation could jeopardise the entire wedding. But what’s more he was left impressed by Piya’s views and was obviously glad that his son had selected this girl before anyone else did.