The Proposal

The throb in my head wouldn’t go. Lot of jobs in the queue, and the mind tried coping with each. Joseph said the proposal had to go the next day; so we had to finalize the details today. Video conferencing with the clients in the evening would clear the outstanding issues. I had to sit with the accounts section and make the final draft.

The call from home came out of the blue. Take special permission and buy some sweets on your way home. I knew what that meant. “Mom, I said I don’t want marriage now, didn’t I make it clear?” I did not want my voice to reach out to Rekha sitting next to me.

“I will come home only at 9 pm. I have tons of work to do. You do what you like. I don’t care.”

After dad’s passing away, it was difficult for me to be rude to my mother. But it was even more difficult for me to control the gnawing resentment in me. Every time I said ‘no’ to any guy, her face would fall. I would reason out; but she would keep an expressionless face, and then move away. Did I see tears in her eyes? I was irritated. What kind of an emotional blackmail was this?

I thought she wouldn’t dare to arrange a meeting with any suitors, after the way I had said ‘no’ to Arun. I had been telling mom I was too young to be married. At 23, I had a lot to do.

“You can do all that after marriage,” she said, “I don’t think the boy or his family would object.”

“Just let them dare object!” I was furious, “Mom, you don’t understand. I can’t even look at people who will think of dictating terms to me.”

She would let go then; a couple of days later she would again talk of some other proposal. I couldn’t explain to mother what I wanted. Probably I wasn’t too sure myself. My replies to her were getting curter by the day.

I gave up telling her what I wanted. She wouldn’t understand my idea of the man. So I told her I wasn’t interested in marriage - not at the moment at least. My ‘no’ had no takers at home.

So Arun had to take it.

I hated getting dressed up for the occasion. I refused to wear a saree. “Let them see me the way I am.” I had been wearing a salwar-kameez that day and my mother was secretly thankful I wasn’t in my jeans. I had warned her, “Don’t ask me to serve them any refreshments. I wouldn’t, and you will shame yourself!” So my sister Divya had to serve them coffee and snacks. I sat nonchalantly on the sofa opposite them. But I didn’t care to look at Arun. It was like I had already decided to dislike him. Blithely he went on about his job, his hobbies and his plans for the future. Just when he said the wedding had to wait another six months because he wouldn’t be able to take leave, I perked up. ‘Hey man, what makes you sure I’m waiting for you?’ I thought contemptuously and looked at my mom. She cleared her throat.

“Let Arun and Ramya talk to each other.” Arun’s parents nodded. As we went into the garden, Arun gave me a big smile.

“So? What do you want to ask me?” I suppressed my irritation over his complacence.

“I am not interested in marriage at the moment,” I tried to be as polite as I could. I didn’t tell him I didn’t like his paunch. Or his mom. She had pulled out the golden chain I was wearing around my neck, and said it was too thin. She had asked my mother if the house was rented. His dad had asked about my job. I had thought next they would ask for my salary slip.

As Arun and his parents left in a huff, I couldn’t get any one to understand me. My mother rationalized every action of theirs. After all, they were the boy’s parents and had every right to know about our financial status.

I spoke under my breath. “Does Arun know any thing about my interests? My dreams? He spoke about his; did he ask about me?”

“So? You should have told him!”

What could I tell him? He didn’t even think of asking me! Should I have told him I loved watching the stars at night? That I loved Indian classical music and jazz, but couldn’t stand hard rock? That I could read books all-night? Should I have told him about Sridhar who loved me to distraction when I was in college? I wanted to share every like and dislike with my dream man. I wanted him to know my weakness. I wanted to ask him if he loved children; I wanted to know if he would cook when I returned home late.

But somehow I thought he would not have understood. After a week of sullen silence, my home returned to its normalcy.

I went into Joseph’s cabin. After a few minutes of discussion he noticed I was tired and said solicitously I could come early the next day and finish the work.

I did not smile. I looked away. Suddenly I felt like unburdening myself.

“My mom wants me to come home early. I’m supposed to meet a boy. I have no clue and I’m least bothered. I said ‘no’ to mom and I’m not going home any time now.”

Joseph looked long into my face. Then he ordered some coffee. “Hey, sit down and relax now,” he said.

I shared a good rapport with Joseph. He was a great listener, and often talking to him was a relief in itself.

“If only Joseph was a Hindu,” I thought to myself. He was handsome. He had a dignified demeanor. It didn’t matter to me whether or not he was a Hindu, but it would, to my mother. I should know. When our neighbor, Rita Sharma, wanted to marry a Muslim, her parents raised a big ruckus. Rita’s father swallowed an entire strip of sleeping tablets. Luckily he survived it; he just managed to cause enough melodramatic scenes.

I was disgusted. What a way to get Rita tow his line! But my mother probably thought it a normal reaction – “How can they face society?” I was sick of the argument, but I chose not to argue. I maintained a deliberate silence even when Rita came back home alone a few months after marrying the guy her parents chose for her, declaring she would never live with the Hindu boy she got married to.

May be I’m a defeatist. Somehow I had no will to fight. It was far easier not to get into an emotional discussion. I deliberately fenced my heart and nipped away any sprout of interest in Joseph.

It was 8 pm and only a handful of people remained at the office. The client had given a go-ahead. A major relief for me and my mind seemed to lighten. Joseph must have felt relieved too; he said he wanted to go home and relax. I told him to go ahead; but I wouldn’t hear a thing about going home myself, till I put the draft of the proposal on his table.

I heard excited voices as I neared home. “I knew Ramya liked you; I once overheard her speak to her friend…I knew she wouldn’t want to hurt me. And that’s how I decided to meet you and your parents,” I heard my mother say. Joseph grinned at me as I entered home. “So I okay the proposal. Do you?”

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