Chalk and Cheese

“All marriages are arranged; some by the bride and the groom and others…well, by others!” boomed the baritone.

“I don’t agree Ram. A person should be able to choose a partner for themselves.”

“Janaki, don’t put these silly ideas into kids’ heads now. Aren’t we happy together?”

“Well, we got lucky!”

“Even though we are like…”

“Chalk and cheese?” Ma had said and let out a throaty laugh.

I was thirteen at the time and was certain I had met the love of my life. I too had joined in the laughter thinking of it as a bad joke. 

One never knows what the brain chooses to remember. Of all the cerebral conversations we had at the dinner table, this is the one that readily springs up whenever I think of visiting Ma and Appa. At 34, single and living with my cat I still think of it as a bad joke.

The airport taxi cruises through the lush greenery as it nears KIA Bengaluru terminal. The molten gold of the cat’s eye on the billboard makes me miss Ginger already.

I am surprised to find less crowd on a Friday afternoon as I breeze through the security and settle down with a cup of hot coffee near the departure gate. I check my mail for a short while and then watch people moving about. A young couple holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes catches my attention. Damn! I haven’t yet bought a gift for my parents. Thankfully, I have half an hour left before boarding. My eyes scan the shops. The occasion demands a single gift that both my parents would cherish. But what would that be?

I am the last one to board the plane and predictably all the cabin luggage space has been taken up. I squeeze myself with my laptop bag and Swarovski carry bag to reach the window seat and prop them up on my lap. I am a little embarrassed and preoccupied to notice the occupant of the next seat till the plane starts taxiing on the runway. Maybe I wouldn’t have for a longer time if his baritone voice had not inquired kindly,

“Do you need help with your bags, ma’am?”

I give him a sideways glance and say curtly, “No. Thank you.”

Is it his crew cut and bright eyes or just the voice? I am not so sure but from that point onwards I am acutely aware of his presence.

The plane takes off. I close my eyes.

The baritone voice gently crooning “Jojo lali jojo jojo” as I burp in his arms is the earliest memory I have of Appa. Ma always sang ‘Rock a bye baby’ or ‘Twinkle Twinkle little star” in her lilting voice.

“Who would have thought I would marry a firangi clad in kanjeevaram?” was Appa’s favourite refrain in Diwali gatherings after Ma belting out her favourite numbers that varied from Tina Turner to Celine Dion. And he looked so proud.

“Serves you right for thinking small-town girls made the best housewives, Mr. Ram Kumar”, Ma would taunt him. “And who would have thought the big city boy would know how to make laddoos!”. The guests would laugh. And Ma looked so in love.

The flight attendant announces the start of refreshment services. I open my eyes.

The passengers start flipping open the trays attached to the seats in front of them.

The baritone plays again, “Ma’am, I promise I won’t drop the precious crystals. You will not be able to enjoy your refreshments, otherwise.”

This time I turn and take a good look at him. Looks athletic and in his early thirties. Has two days of stubble and a smile that plays more in his eyes than on his lips. And hair, yes definitely an Army officer.

“Fine, thank you,” I pass Aladdin and Jasmine to him. I’m still unsure about my gift choice but hoped it somehow married Radha Krishna to Romeo and Juliet. Picking a gift that’s suitable for both Janaki and Ram Kumar is a challenge I am yet to master.

“So, ma’am, are you going to attend a function?”

I am taken aback. I blurt out without thinking,

“For an Army officer on leave aren’t you a bit nosy?”

His eyebrows bob up and down within a split second.

“Well, for a person who feigns absolute indifference to her fellow passengers, you are quite observant. How did you figure that about me? I guess it comes from living alone in a city like Bangalore.”

Damn! What am I walking into? I soldier on.

“It’s no rocket science. I have a brother who is serving and addresses everyone as ma’am and sports his hair just the same. And of course, never leaves home unshaved unless he is on leave... How did you know I lived alone?”

“Well, I didn’t, it was a guess!” he chuckles.

I bury my burning cheeks in the bland sandwich.

I gulp down the mini cup of coffee that does nothing to assuage my nerves. I wait for the tray to be cleared and say in a neutral voice.

“Thank you for your help. I think I can manage now,” and extend my hands to take back my package.

“So, are you attending a friend’s wedding or a housewarming party?” he asks as he hands it over.

This man is relentless.But why am I not irritated?

“Neither. My father is turning 60. So, I am going to attend his Shashti Poorti.”

“What is Shashti…” He trails off.

“Poorti. It is a part of Hindu culture. There can be a long explanation for it but in short, you get to attend your parents’ marriage when your father turns 60.”

“How lovely! I find these traditions charming!”

“You do?”

I nod and look outside into the blue. I need to bring my pulse rate down.

Ram Kumar and Janaki; Chalk and cheese. One a believer and the other an atheist. One a traditionalist and the other a modernist. One is an introvert and the other the life of a party. And yet so in love- the kind of love I had longed for and had failed to find. Part of the reason why I chose to live away from them.

“Flight attendants please be seated.” Captain’s voice mixed with the static makes me look at the lighted “Fasten Seatbelt” sign. Another announcement follows soon, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

I feel knots in my stomach. This is why I hate flying. I would have travelled by train had I made up my mind earlier to attend the event. I am still not sure I should be attending it and subjecting myself to the scrutiny of well-meaning relatives. I clutch the armrests. God! Please don’t make me puke...

After what feels like an eternity,

“Your God listened to you! We are safe,” baritone again.

Damn! was I so loud?

“Don’t you believe in God?” I counter.

“I used to when I was a boy. I prayed with my parents. Now, I just pray to them.”

I feel a lump in my throat. The speakers crackle again sparing me from saying something stupid.

 “If there is a doctor of medicine on board, would they please make themselves known to one of the cabin crew?” And the announcement is repeated in a hurried tone. I press the button above.

I am rushed to the executive seating area where an elderly man lay unconscious. His distraught wife has been moved to another seat to make more room for him.

I check his breathing. He needs CPR.

I notice the baritone helping out the nervous attendants in laying the patient down. Thankfully, the patient responds to CPR and becomes conscious. But his pulse is feeble.

I look through the emergency medical kit and decide to put an IV line.

The baritone flashes his mobile light and focuses it on the patient’s arm. I get down to work.

With an IV line in place and the patient looking stable I recline in my upgraded executive class seat. I am joined by the baritone bringing me my laptop and the carry bag.

“Thanks for your help back there,” I offer.

“I thought you were a software engineer.”

“A single woman living in Bangalore and flying with her laptop has to be one, right? 2 out of 3 is not a bad score, so you’re okay,” I smile.

“Isn’t it time we introduced ourselves to each other? I am Maj John Mathews, Para Regiment. And what about you, Dr…”

“Dr. Priya Kumar, Junior Resident, Department of Neurosurgery. Well, you are not going to get the name of the hospital from me!”

“Maybe later?”

My heart skips a beat.

“Is there going to be a later?”

“Why not?”

I take a deep breath…and exhale.

“Because we are two very different people. I am an introvert and you are an extrovert! I don’t care much for traditions and you find them charming! I hate flying and you are a paratrooper! My job entails saving people whereas yours…in short, we are as different as…”

“Chalk and cheese?” he offers helpfully.