The Arrangement

The Arrangement

Back to India for Christmas, the overwhelming humidity in the air is always a welcome-home banner. The familiar road to my ancestral home, a coffee plantation-laden landscape, is now unfamiliar. It's been a while since I've ventured to return, for a reason.

Mom draws me into a tight embrace, immediately scolding me. “It’s been too long Vik." Without hesitation, she draws out the elephant in the room that needs addressing, “Your aunt and I have been long considering your options and you’re not getting any younger.”

"Mom, I need a shower after the flight," squirming my way out and making a dash for my upstairs bedroom. Snoopy bedsheets and nostalgic bygone wall posters greet me as I decide to lie on the mattress I've clearly outgrown. I am definitely not getting any younger.

As I mindlessly stare into the faded glow-in-the-dark star-shaped stickers that pepper my bedroom ceiling, the heavy reminder of the unanswered message draws me back from my reverie. My cell phone feels like it's burning in the back pocket of my jeans.

Daniela, 10:55 pm

We need to talk. Haven’t heard from you in weeks. Anyway, whatever it is you’re going through, wishing you a Merry Christmas.

Sweet Daniela. I want to come around for her. These past four months with her have been soul-rejuvenating. Only when you’re in my arms do I get my sleep back, I’d often give her credit for. Lately, I am a walking zombie.

A whiff of the temptress aromas of my childhood favorites makes its way upstairs, luring me to the dinner table. I quickly shower and change into the new set of clothes Mom has laid out for me.

Mom and Aunt Samy abruptly end the hushed conversations they were engrossed in as soon as they caught wind of me. Aunt Samy commands the table and speaks out before anyone has the chance to. “Vik, we have to give the Joshis an answer this month.

The pre-arrangements have been made.”

“Wha…? The Joshis who?" Then it hit me. Welcome home, Vik.

“Mom, I need more time. You know I’ve always wanted to find someone on my own terms,” thoughts of Daniela wanting to overrule centuries of Indian tradition.

“Now don't you go off ranting with your Westernized ideas. Your mother and I have worked hard to get this arrangement, which you will thank us for soon enough. Hindrika is a good fit and is from a very wealthy family.

AND, her father is willing to let you into the family business, good income you know. They’ve made quite a living for themselves in the US.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Family expectations be damned and no sooner am I blurting out “Mom, I have something to tell you. I’m actually seeing…”

Mom froze with that stern look on her face I only knew too well. “Look son, whatever it is you’ve done while you were playing house in Europe is now in the past. You’ve had your last hurrah. Playtime is over, you have obligations.”

“Can I at least see what she looks like?”, my insides boiling with scorn, wanting to gain some semblance of control over my life. A half smile spreads across Mom’s face as she reaches out for her purse and out pulls a neatly folded photo.

“You know, you’re not the only husband the Joshis are considering for Hindrika. If you don’t marry her, someone else will, and soon,” Mom admonishes as she hands me Hindi’s photo.

I decided there and then that I’d call her Hindi.

That same afternoon, back atop my snoopy-clad mattress, I knew Daniela deserved better.

Merry Christmas to you as well Daniela. Sorry I’ve been absent these past few weeks. I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll jump right in. I had an unexpected surprise when I got back home to India for the holidays.

My mother sprung an arranged marriage on me and I’m forced to accept it. If I don’t, someone else will. I know it might be hard for you to understand, but it’s for the best.

I’m so sorry. It really has nothing to do with you.

It would never have worked out anyway, judging by the statistics of the Western approach to marriage. And that was that. Whimsically I had been married off to Hindi, Daniela now a washed-out vision and my dreams of a self-procured Western marriage surrendered, unopposed.

Christmas whisked by and soon enough I was flying over to Texas to meet my bride-to-be and her family. In the days leading to my trip, we had exchanged a few awkward messages here and there, mostly acknowledging each other’s presence after the virtual “I do.”

(Vik) This is weird but am excited to meet you in 3D.

(Hindrika) Yes, me too. Am a bit nervous.

(Vik) We’ll have time to get to know each other.

(Hindrika) You’ll like our new house.

New Year's Day had Mom and I landing in a city we'd never set foot in, Dallas. Hindi and her family were waiting for us at the arrival terminal of the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. Hindi’s father insisted on meeting us there, as the drive home was nearly 20 miles away.

“You ready?”, mom glanced my way as we headed to the baggage carousel. “As I’ll ever be,” throwing in some extra bravado, but really I was a ball of nerves, my stomach threatening a faux pas upon arrival.

As we entered the passenger arrival area, Mom immediately spotted Hindi and her father. She's taller than I imagined. Mr. Joshi shakes my hand, effusively welcoming us to Dallas and to the family, making my impending reality sink in even more.

Hindrika gives me a halfhearted smile, partly shielding herself behind her father’s robust frame and shyly extending her hand in greeting.

Feeling my stomach churn and tasting some disagreeable bits of my airline breakfast meal, I rush to the nearest bathroom, barely managing to excuse myself. Panic has me throwing up what feels like the worth of all of my lifelong meals.

Could I really spend the rest of my life with a catalogue perfect yet unknown wife? After all, this is the 21^st century, they’d all understand otherwise, wouldn’t they? Yes.

“Vik?”, I hear Mom calling out, right by the door, impervious to whoever she was making uncomfortable in the gents bathroom. “Wash up, I’ve already explained to Mr. Joshi that you were sick when we left India. He understands that it’s been a long trip. Hurry up.”

I look at my ashen reflection and spruce up quickly, knowing that everyone is waiting for me and that arrangements have been made. As I start to head out, I feel the need to turn around and have one last glance at myself in the mirror. The person looking back already seems so distant and foreign to me.

“Vik, do you hear me?”.

“Yes, Mom. I’m all set. Let’s get this started.”