Chapter 1 – When my mother shopped for a suitable boy in the 1990s

Using one of the long dry spells (with no prospective boy / man in my life) of my youth as a rare opportunity to make her mark on my life, my mom decided to select a suitable boy for me.

In those days TOI ran a special matrimonial column with even different denominators for Christians / Catholics. My mom decided to give an advert, the text of which was written by none other than her. She refused to commission me for writing as she was sure I would make that a confession of my shortcomings rather that eulogising  my rare and uncommon virtues ( wishful thoughts ) It took me 26 years of life to know I was beautiful, well mannered, shy (Ghosh that was a total surprise and ill -fitting), an excellent cook ( when I was totally focused on honing my consumption skills ) and soft spoken ( when my dad had nicknamed me Bhadra short for Bhadrakali).

The beautifully crafted advert brought in a lot of interest from suitable and not so suitable Malayali boys (🤣) and some stray North Indian ones with two Tamilians thrown in.

After breakfast my mother would fit on her glasses and sink in to her favourite sofa to carefully go through each of the matrimonial responses. My dad would give his comment and verdict at the first sentence she would read out, and mom reacted with her choicest of words which I will refrain from mentioning here.

In between scrutinising the selection process my mother would get up frequently to stir the aromatic sambhar cooking in the kitchen, while my dad would be busy taking his continuous 15 minute naps with breaks only to adjust his posture.

Now starts a long review process with comments and verdicts. Since I would like to give due credit to my mom for her justifications, my chai serving encounters and my dad’s expert comments on each prospective boy, I will make this into a series if there is appetite so pls watch this space for Chapter 2.

Chapter 2 – When my mother shopped for a suitable boy in the 1990s

No disclaimers as this does refer to real life and incidents. If any of the prospective grooms (now over 50), revealed here are not suffering from diabetes, cholesterol, angina or arthritis and still have the zeal to sue me – so be it! As a development specialist, I have worked much more on my resilience than on my projects.

So while the Sambhar brewed over several days and my dad napped many times over during the selection rounds, the 150 matrimonial responses were classified as,  Great Prospect, Okay Prospect and “Chalega”. There was of course a second marriage category of prospective grooms which were rejected but not thrown in the dustbin just in case…. After all, the Nice Malyali girl (Jeena as you know me) was over 26 and so on the wrong side of the fence. By this age girls would have made several appams and mutton stews for their Cathololical (or Nasrani as Catholic Malayalis are called in Kerala) husbands and sure shot produced at least two clones for them. So Mom had a Plan B and this rejected category would come in handy in such cases.

My mom asked for my help in responding to the interested letters as she was very particular that as a prospective mother in law she should be seen as being proficient in English. I gave in, as it provided some entertainment in my life. So while the letters were being responded to, and prospective’s invited for “Pennu Kanan” (the traditional term used by Malayali’s to describe the event where the prospective groom comes to assess if the girl is marriage material ) my mother tutored me. She wanted me to dress in an alien attire – a saree ! She advised, I should appear completely naïve or pretend to be naïve and innocent if the prospective guys, try to make a romantic comment or as we said in those days – Chance Marega!

I promised over my snoring dad’s head that I will make this work and do what my mother says with an inner silent resolution that I will give in to some fun and 2-minute romances. You see I am a die-hard romantic prankster. One of my favourite railway journey (during annual holidays to Kerala ) past time was to wink at young and old guys alike, sitting in the station as soon as the train would start moving, thus giving no chance to Romeos to board the train. Unlike busses it is not cost effective and additionally risky for Romeos to board moving trains. My mother would of course be counting the gifts she had to give to relatives in Kerala and my brother like an idiot would be in splits over the same comic which he had read 100 times over. They were completely oblivious to my innocuous pastime. More about the benefits and risks of this prank in another episode.

The first prospective groom to be invited was Suresh an MBA graduate from IIM Ahmedabad. Boy ! What a prize for my mom and of course good for my ego. My dad would only be interested to know in a personal meeting if he could grow drumstick, banana and cassava. Rest was mundane and not very useful according to him.

So while Suresh MBA, waits for his entry into my home for “Pennu Kanan” and my mom finishes cooking Meen Mappaz( please google guys?), I will take a short break and come back refreshed in Chapter 3 – Suresh MBA. This is of course if my husband permits – you see he is a lovely Punjabi man but may not take well to his Malayali wife’s bold crass writings. If I get stuck and post no more – you know whom to coax- until then “Pinne Kanam “(see you later in Malayalam)

Chapter 3 – When my mother shopped for a suitable boy in the 1990s

 Suresh MBA comes for “Pennu Kanan “((the traditional term used by Malayalis to describe the event where the prospective groom comes to assess if the girl is marriage material)

No Disclaimers again as I have a score to settle with this guy and am happy if he takes me to court.

.It was a Sunday and parents missed their regular mass to welcome Suresh MBA. My Dad did not approve but as usual he thought it is better to be silent when Crazy (his nickname for my mom) was in a frenzy with all the preparations.  The qualification with the name is very important as IIM Graduates especially an Ahmedabad one was a prized commodity and that too a Mallu (short for Malayali).  My Dad woke up Jesus earlier than his regular 3am to put in the request for the day, as my mother had given him a target that this alliance should work.

Mom herself put in a lot of hard work making Parippu Vada (fried lentil pakoras), fish cutlet, fish moiley (a special green fish curry), Chicken Biryani and Unni appam (sweet rice and coconut balls). My mother was a cook par excellence but would not share her recipes without missing out on either one ingredient or a process. She loved cooking to feed guests (especially kitty friends and the clergy). However, this time it was Suresh MBA.

 Looking at the spread out feast, my Father would ask my mom every half hour – How long would they stay? He was obviously worried if the visiting team would polish off everything or he would get to taste some of Crazy’s dishes. When my mom cooks, she keeps silent not engaging in any conversation with family as any easy talk would encourage us to take advantage and polish off the goodies.

Around 1pm Suresh MBA walked in with his older brother and sister in law. My eyes scanned the older brother and I sighed and said to myself – who cares for an MBA when this dish (a slang for handsome men from college days) was there. Now I have a natural attraction for something which is not meant for me. And you will see this pattern of behaviour again in another prospect’s case. I guess I cannot be set into a mould and I hate things planned for me.

I decided to ignore the wife (took an instant dislike for her, probably for reaching my target “dish” first) and did a good scan of Suresh. Now I had moved closer into the kitchen and switched off the light.  I could see them clearly from inside while they had no inkling that they were being subject to a PET Scan.

Suresh MBA was a dark guy suited booted (again I dislike formal attires) with specs and had no mischief or humour in his eyes. As my mom walked into the kitchen she got a fright while colliding we me in the dark. She reprimanded me for showing my excitement and I took the chance to remind her – “Please remember I want a guy with a sense of humour not someone who would be doing cost /benefit analysis and GDP calculations”. She nudged me and walked out with one of the sweetest smiles reserved only for guests.

“Monne” (an endearment for son in Malayalam) my mother called out to Suresh MBA – have something and she extended the tray of Vadas. I am sure my dad put in an instant prayer to Jesus that the team should not polish off all of Crazy’s Vadas. By this time, I was bored and I made a non-planned entry and perched myself on the sofa displaying a coy smile (one of my non-existent virtues). I was confident that I looked a pretty lady in my Mauve Salwar Kameez (Indian dress) which nicely hid my slightly prominent tummy. No makeup or hair do was my style – you take it or leave it.

I greeted everyone and reached out for one of the Vadas which was fast dwindling in numbers. Encouraged dad dived in and took two, just in case he does not get another chance. My mother made a mental note to put us both through her special torture regime of no goodies at all for a week. Just then Dad (upfront and painfully honest as he was )  made an untutored and unrehearsed comment – “Bhadra  (short for Bhadrakali – his nickname for me  – after the  Indian Goddess Kali who is known as destroyer of evil)  has made nothing, in fact she is a lazy girl and if ever she cooks something,  it is better to go hungry”. A bit too much to use my nickname (proclaiming I can slay even Suresh MBA if he earns my wrath) and I clearly switched sides over to my mom making a mental note to harass dad for at least a day for that uncalled remark even though he may be spot on.

Finally “my dish” said Let Suresh and Jeena have a chat. I invited “dish” too, but he gave a quizzical look and smilingly refused. So Suresh MBA and I walked to the roof with Princey my pet Doberman. Now it is important to mention here that Princey was a very well behaved dog except when people walked out through the main gate. She had an abnormal trait of biting butts when people walked out of the main gate. She welcomed all in, but had reservations about people leaving.  So we used to send her to the roof locking the door firmly before we would let out people.

In this case we just got out of the drawing room to climb the stairs outside, but well inside the gate. I led the way with Suresh MBA following. Princey was well behaved and she followed Suresh MBA making an estimate of the bite she would require for his butt (in front) just in case he walks out unguarded through the front gate.

Suresh MBA opened the conversation with the usual question – What are your hobbies? I abandoned my mother’s notes and said eating sleeping and acting and of course singing tunelessly. He was not amused, and he did not respond. I was keen to win him over as a “Trophy” for my mother for all her hard work in the kitchen. He asked me why I was not working to which I smartly replied that I was in between jobs whereas I had taken youth retirement for an indefinite period.

The next question was somewhat a tough one and not the usual asked in those days.

Chapter 3- Suresh MBA comes for “Pennu Kanan”  (Roof top conversations)

What is your weight asked Suresh MBA? Now that question was not in the FAQs (Frequently asked questions) that happened during Pennu Kanan ‘’event. There were no size zeros at that time and I guess if there was a waist and less of tummy fat you were good to go and Malayali’s at that time were not overtly bothered with weight. I wondered whether he was thinking about the cost of feeding me?  Well I was never a weight watcher so said I don’t know!

He asked me if I wanted to know anything and if I like him? I said well my mum thinks you are a prize and I guess it sounds good to me too. I then asked how many times he would laugh in a day? For the first time his dark face lit up into a splendid smile and he said “you are funny, and I like you “.

So I had won the “trophy”. I gave myself a pat and secretly winked at Princey. He then asked if I had any conditions for marriage – I said no dowry, no wearing a saree, no makeup ever and no cooking except baking sometimes and lots of humour. He said the last, I (Jeena) can create and the rest he agreed to.  So be it! I was going to be Mrs Suresh MBA Valliaveetil (house name in Kerala, which when literally translated meant big house) and my mom would be very pleased. Of course, there were more questions to come from my mom and she had given two to my dad also.

We walked down the stairs and I smiled at “dish” (although was dying to wink at him but that would be inappropriate and spoil the show) and even managed a smile for his wife. Suresh MBA announced that we had spoken and then my mom took over the command. Without any inhibitions she asked about his assets, in kerala etc. He replied and it sounded as if he was loaded- good catch mom! Mom then raised her eyebrows to dad and quietly indicated that he should ask the two questions which were allotted to him.

Dad highly susceptible to quick naps was already drowsy and today had missed his afternoon nap and additionally very hungry without lunch. Well he could not let mom down, so he looked at Suresh MBA and fired a question completely out of context – “How many rivers are there in Hyderabad”?   I forgot how to behave and doubled up in laughter and dad too joined in, while Suresh MBA took off his glasses to clean while buying some time for an answer.

Mom handled the situation well and said it is too late – let us have lunch. Poor dad he had forgotten that he had to ask Suresh MBA about his long-term career plans. Anyway that was a tough one for my farmer father. So we had lunch and my mom was praised so much she forgave all of mine and dad’s idiosyncrasies and misbehaviour.

The visiting team took our leave with some very promising words. As they were leaving, Princey looked at me enquiring – should I?  I said no idiot and closed her on the roof. She barked her head off on the roof protesting that there were three visitors and she was not given a chance to nip even one. 

Mom, dad and me  sat in the drawing room content and went over the whole day. My mom called up her brothers in Kerala and said it was all fixed. I went out with my Priyadharshini Vihar friends, Priya, Rashmi and Deepti to see if we could catch a last glimpse of the tall Kashmiri bachelor staying in front of my house. After all I was now kind of” fixed” so some last time, long distance flirting, won’t harm anyone.

The next morning around 11 am my mom got a call from “dish’s wife (Suresh MBAs sister in law). I could not hear but was watching mom’s face to understand what is going on. During those times we had landlines no cell phones. My mother’s face (in the two minute conversation) showed so many emotions that it would have been tough for a film director to create in one movie. She banged the phone and said “Ullu ka Patta” in her Malayali accent (my Hindi speaking friends can complete this easily while for others it is an innocuous abuse).

In a fit of anger mom blurted that Suresh liked Jeena and so did his family but he is a wee bit worried about her potential for gaining weight in a few years’ time and this was based on the evidence seen in her mom’s figure.

I quickly took the opportunity and exclaimed -Mom, he is saying you are fat. My mother like me always wanted to have the last word and in this case she was insulted, so dialled “dish’s” wife and said in a very stern voice that Jeena did not like Suresh’s colour (Suresh was dark) so we are calling it off. Of course, she knew that they had called off first but my mom does not listen to any explanations when she is furious.

Without a moment to lose, she then called each of her brothers and sisters in Kerala and Bangalore and said that she was not happy with Suresh MBA’s colour and compared to pretty Jeena he was not a match. She being the eldest was not challenged much although my grandmother did push back saying that kerala had natural remedies like turmeric and sandalwood which could help in improving his colour. Well my mom never had patience for any comments once she had made a decision.

Mom declared emergency that night and decided that she is going to get an even better qualified match to give Suresh MBA competition. She  flouted all the rules of the game and picked up an IAS  officer who was a Tamilian  (not a Malayali like us ) much to my father’s delight (as dad was equally fluent in Tamil as in Malayalam ). Dad had spent his childhood and most of his youth  in Chennai spoke Tamil fluently. Tamil movies with their fights were a riot for him.

I protested saying that he is not a Catholic mom and that I would not like to marry someone who eats watery Sambhar (Tamilian sambhar – lentil curry has more of water and Kerala ones have more of lentils as I was told).

That is insignificant said mom as she had made up her mind to declareD war between “ Murugan” and “Jesus” and did not care who won. This time my dad had the last word – He said “I knew Suresh MBA was useless as he could not even answer my question on the number of rivers in Hyderabad”. For that matter to date me, my dad or mom none of us knew the answer.

So if there is appetite for more I will be happy to introduce Sundaram IAS in Chapter 4? Let me know readers?

Chapter 4 – When my mother shopped for a suitable boy in the 1990s

It was a busy day today, with Sundaram IAS coming in tomorrow (again a Sunday) from Noida, for “Pennu Kannan”. Dad was most excited, and Mom pensive, as though she was continuously reviewing her decision to cross the Kerala border and venture into neighbouring Tamil Nadu.

So while we are waiting for Sundaram IAS’s arrival tomorrow, let me give a little background of my parents. Mom was the oldest of 7 siblings (the last born between me and my elder brother ) from a well off, business family in Kottayam. As the first child she was pampered and used to having her way. Mom went to the famous BCM college in Kottayam, a rare achievement in her family.

Dad, on the other hand was the youngest of 6 siblings and hailed from Cherpunkal another beautiful green, small town which at that time was not as developed as Mom’s part. His family struggled with a small landholding and many mouths to feed. Dad left school early to move into Madras (now Chennai) to make a living with his oldest sibling. And that is where his love for Tamilians and Madras was nurtured. To remember his golden days in madras he would fondly address me in Tamil as sombery (lazy), rascal (mischievous) and my mother as pondatti (wife).

In preparation for Sundaram IAS’s visit the next day he enacted several Tamil film stars, ranging from the famous Sivaji Ganesan to MG Ramachandran and Gemini Ganesan. Singing and doing mock stunts he drove “Crazy” mad  oblivious of the fact that mom had in 24 hours thought of recalling and cancelling her decision at least 25 times. And that dad by reminding her was  endorsing her foolishness and was provoking her to call of her decision. She threatened him of the same but he was deaf to it. He simply could not contain his excitement of a Tamilian coming into his life. In his mind he had married me off to Sundaram and was in deep conversation with him in Tamil.

To contain dad’s excitement and to take a break from the blunder that she had committed my mom sent him outside to do what he loved doing – watering his tiny (size of a single bed) garden which housed a drum stick tree, a guava tree, a cassava plant, some spinach thrown in and a number of other things. Dad was busy watering the plants wearing a traditional Kerala Mundu (Dhoti in hindi or a large piece of cloth covering your waist till ankles) and the famous Rupa banyan (😉).

Now the Mundu is a precarious South Indian attire, if you are not well versed in adorning it. It is tucked into nothing at the waist with no drawstrings, elastic, hook or buttons. For the novice it will give several warnings that it was going to give way and unfold. Smart ones would take the opportunity to rewrap and tuck while lazy and elderly people would care no less and wait for a complete downfall to bend, pick up and wrap around again. Dad came in the lazy category and as a result we often heard Mrs D’sa our next-door neighbour call out loudly- “shame shame Mr Abraham” while he chuckled and mom would swear under her breath.

Mom began preparing me for the next day even while she was mercilessly axing volumes of ginger, giving vent to her pent up anger on her spontaneous decision, to go Tamil. For God’s sake what would the Parish Priest and Bishop say? She cannot even pass it off as a love marriage as everyone knew, given a free hand her daughter (born and brought in Delhi) would any day settle for a Punjabi boy. Well Punjabi and Tamil both were unacceptable to her. She had murdered Suresh MBA several times over the last few days in her dreams and was happily convicted also. 

While coaxing me in for a massive change in culture, religion and lifestyle and whatever, she even resurrected a great great grandfather’s wife who was a Tamilian, trying to draw a cross border imaginary connection and endorse her decision as sensible.

My eyes were fixed on my dad watering the plants and suddenly a small man walked up to the gate and stood on my dad’s left side outside our gate. Dad turned his attention to him and in the process of responding to him he drenched him considerably aiming the hose pipe at him accidently. Realising his mistake dad took a 360 degree turn, changing the pipe’s direction to walls of the house and in the process his ‘Mundu’ gave way and crumbled to the ground.

I screamed with laughter and rushed inside our small corridor while my mother breathed fire and D’sa Aunty called out – “Shame Shame Mr Abraham”. I rushed back to the drawing room determined not to miss the drama just when suddenly dad opened the house from outside with his own set of keys (which used to be hidden under a plant pot) bringing in the man, probably for a change of clothes.

It never occurred to Dad that mom and me were sitting in our nicely worn out night dresses in the drawing room, while he gets in a passer-by – a total stranger. He brought in the stranger asking him to sit and with a chuckle addressed my mother saying “Crazy, the train has arrived early  from Madras and I have accidently drenched Sundaram……………………………………….”

Chapter 4 – Sundaram IAS (Part 1)

Seeing Sundaram standing in front of us half wet and extremely uncomfortable was a sight difficult to take in our stride -for God’s sake dad!  This was the only time in my life I thought, I wish dad was not so simple and ‘let loose’. First drenching the guy, then Mundu falling off and then chuckling at D’sa aunty’s comment (endorsing it as an established practice ). At least he could have rung the bell, giving us time to gather ourselves or react better. But he had opened the door with the key carefully abiding by Crazy’s draconian law – “whoever goes out to stand in the verandah will not expect others in the house to open the door. Except Princey nobody else defied Crazy’s law.

How do you react when a ‘bridegroom to be’ walks into your room a day earlier than planned  and finds the bride with a face pack of stinking egg and besan (lentil powder) painted on her face and hair colour on your head?  Wait guys ! Thankfully I was not doing that but it was worse.

I was doing what I was best at – daydreaming and trying to count each strand on my head (like a prison mate who had nothing to do or lose in life) and I had neatly separated my hair into 6 parts for ease of counting. Now how does that look? To top it all the night dress I was wearing was taking its last few breaths as Crazy had condemned it to death with remains to be converted into a mop to clean the house.

Being young and agile I whizzed past dad and Sundaram into the corridor landing with a big noise into the bedroom as princey competed in the relay for entering the room. Jesus! this time even God won’t be able to save dad from my mom’s wrath and probably mine too.

With Sudaram IAS, sitting ( while trying to dry his shirt with crazy’s hair dryer which dad had fetched for him ) completely dazed with the sudden whirlwind of activities, mom got up slowly coaxing her defiant arthritic knees to behave just this once. In the process she upset the table and scattered the ginger she was axing, a short while ago. Mom never left a score unsettled especially if you catch her unawares (without hairdo, make up, proper attire covering her plump arms, food prepared, everything well planned).  Another mental note was etched into her ‘hell book’.

Mom said a feeble hulllo (with her pronounced Malayali accent, accompanied by a miserable smile reserved for people she did not like) to Sundaram and limped past him into the corridor and kitchen. The sofa (with wheels) she was sitting on heaved a sigh of relief and changed position to breathe easy.

Mom came into the bedroom and hushed – take your time to get ready. I smelt an early verdict there, very unlike our Indian courts which took decades for trial- but let us see!

Within 10 minutes the stage had changed frightfully in the living room. Mom and I walked into the living room and to our horror we found Dad wearing a pair of sunglasses (my mom’s)  with one of his arms raised trying to imitate the yesteryears Tamil star  and Chief Minister MGR. He was speaking in fluent Tamil as if giving a speech to an audience. Crazy went livid, she snatched the glasses and said in a measured tone – Manusha wayil  ittchira vellum edutha mindade irrika (literally meaning ‘Man can you put some water into your mouth without swallowing it’ – in short she meant  keep quiet).

I bet Sundaram made a note of that tone and commanding voice in his hell book assuming ‘Maa aisi hai to beti kaisi hogi’ (If the mother is so dictating, the daughter will be a step ahead). I knew this was a lost deal anyway. Who would want a father in law who followed no norms (and was beyond comprehension of a normal human being) in life, a mother in law who even when severely debilitated (with arthritic knees) commanded a small battalion and a daughter born of them?

Dad intimidated by the tone kept quiet for some time but amazingly did not nap at all. Sundaram IAS was a short man, nicely dressed and had friendly eyes and probably a few funny bones here and there. Mom fired a rapid round of questions at Sundaram one after the other on his family, work, siblings, interests etc.Sundaram batted the entire ‘over’ with ease and threw only one ball at mom – why did you think of considering a Tamilian being a ‘Canonite Kerala Catholic’. Before mom could open her mouth, dad like an expert wicket keeper looked at me raising his eyebrows (one by one like a Kathakali dancer) playfully and said ‘Dekha humara Madras ka ladka kitna smart hai -isne pakad liya ki kutch gadbad hai’ ( see how smart our boy from Madras is? He knows there is something fishy going on! ) and as if to endorse it, patted Sundaram on his shoulders chuckling to himself.

Mom and I were petrified dad would give away Suresh MBA’s  verdict as we had had no time for  rehearsal with dad and Sundaram came earlier than expected. ‘Edi Princey’ (Princey Girl) ‘ Mom commanded  in  a stern tone desperately trying to divert attention. Princey addressed out of context looked up to see whether any action was needed of her – anyone leaving? Seeing all normal and everyone seated she mentally made a note to get even with mom at another time.

Mom continued in fluent Hindi (as she knew she could not compete with Sundaram’s impeccable English) – Bahut ladka dekha par abhi tak koi pasand nahi aaya Jeena ke liye (seen many boys but we haven’t found anyone suitable for Jeena). No wonder mom went religiously for confession on Sundays. Dad quickly put in his two pence worth – Ab aur nahi, hamara madras ka ladka badiya hai (not any more our Tamilian boy is good). Ghosh mom was trying to say no to Sundaram and dad was actually challenging her. ‘Kat le ‘(exit without deliberation). No wait !

Chapter 4 – Sundaram IAS (Part 2)  

Sundaram looked at me straight and said what kind of match are you looking for? Any particular preference? I opened my mouth (mentally rehearsing my usual answer) and before I could put the words together dad said – ‘Just like you my boy’ (and this time in English). A stunned horrified mom gave a dagger look at dad and said ‘Pappa’ I think I have left the back door open – can you please check that the cat has not come in. Dad chuckled and replied don’t worry the cat will eat all the rats in the house. Mr Abraham needs a standing ovation today!

I never knew the intensity of Dad’s ferocious love for Tamilians till  this day. He was strangely not the person I knew.  I decided to fire from his shoulders and said – ‘I have no particular preference except the person should have a sense of humour’. To that Sundaram smartly replied – I can’t match your dad’s sense of humour but I promise if we mutually decide to be together, I can surely make an effort. With that he told mom that he will call the next day to know the family decision and that,he too will think more.

As he got up my mother strangely nudged me to open the door and walk Sundaram out. It was a little strange for her to say this and later she told me that she wanted me to stand close to him to see who was taller me or Sundaram?  Mom ! you don’t do these kind of things,I exclaimed when I heard that. To that she retorted – Are you my mother or am I your mother?

Anyway I opened the door and strangely Princey stood looking at the terrace door waiting to be sent up, rather than the other way around with a menacing look. Anyway Sundaram IAS made an exit and dad called out to him – don’t worry about ‘crazy’- I like you. Who would not love that beautiful innocent large loving heart of my Dad’s?

As we walked in mom exclaimed –‘Manusha  ningake njan innu vachhitte onde’ (meaning – man I have decided your fate today). Plunging into her favourite sofa Mom then anounced – I know he is an IAS,  but he is slightly shorter than Jeena. I said mom we did not offer him anything to which she retorted- who asked him to come unannounced? No calls were made to mom’s family that day. As parents retired for the day I heard mom saying -At least if he was from Palghat (border between kerala and Tamilandu) I would have forgotten he was shorter.

As I slept that day, wisdom dawned on me- with a dad like this, no wonder  I wanted a man with a sense of humour.

The next day mom showed no excitement for Sundaram’s phone call while dad kept picking up the receiver of the telephone (landline), cleaning it and asked two times- Have we payed the phone bill? Mom let that pass both the times.

Sharp at 10, the phone rang and as usual Mom had the first right to answer. Hullllooo she said in a long voice and I heard her saying – Jeena is sleeping so cannot disturb her. Then to my surprise she exclaimed – Cheeee! Kitna ganda baat karta hai (bad! What an obscene comment) and she banged the phone. She then turned to dad and me as we looked at her enquiringly. As per mom the conversation was as follows:

Mom …Hulllooo

Sundaram – Aunty can I speak to Jeena as I could not talk much to her yesterday.

Mom— ‘Jeena So raha hai’ (literally translated- Jeena is sleeping, but my Indian friends would know she used the wrong gender for me )

Sundaram– Oh! she is sleeping till now -10 am? Good,I too love sleeping late too, so together we can sleep late.

Mom – ‘chee- Kitna ganda baat karta hai’ and bang!

Friends to date, I think that was an innocuous and spontaneous remark but I never saw Sundaram again so will never know the truth. It was time for mom to put on her glasses again and dad to take his naps.

Phir Milenge? ( will meet again, will we?)

When my mom shopped for a suitable boy in the 1990s – Chapter 5 Part A

Chapter 5 –‘Green Card’ – ‘The ticket to Americas’ (Part A)

It was Vatteappam (Steamed bread or Appam as Keralites refer, made of rice powder, coconut and sugar) for breakfast that Monday morning. With the luxury of being a free bird, I had gone for  an early morning 6 am Mass to our parish church.  The act was not the result of divine intervention or driven by the desire for a good husband but rather to come back refreshed for a three hour nap after breakfast. Note the prominent genes! Before I take a bite of that delicious steamed Vatteappam let me serve you some controversial comments as appetisers:

On my way to church, Mrs Berry my mom’s most ‘fit’ friend while vigorously walking to keep wrinkles and fat at bay interrupted me asking – Where to? I said to church and she smiled charmingly and replied – “ Accha! Shivji ke 16 Somvar ka vrat rakha hai handsome husband ke liye “? Literally translated it means – Oh! So you are worshipping Shiva (the Hindu God) for 16 Monday’s for a handsome husband? Before I could defend my Christ or give a befitting retort she panted away.

Needless to say that in all kitty parties ever to come Mrs Berry was served the most disfigured Parippu Vadas (please refer to chapter 1 for description). Mom (adept at firing aimlessly but always spot on at killing the target) also made an absolutely out of context remark in the next kitty, directed to no particular person  ‘hum to Pura Jesus ko aur God ko pray karta hai, piece piece, mein nahin’(we worship whole of Jesus and God not in pieces ). Figure it out for yourselves guys, by now you should know my mom.

Biting into a sizeable piece of vatteappam I asked where dad was and mom dismissed the question, while focussing on the matrimonial column. Princey lazing nearby, feigned ignorance and settled her score with me for not taking her out with me early morning. She was sure that me the ‘good for nothing’ Bhadra  was trying to get into shape and there was no church visit.

Mom threw the paper furiously and said “All the good boys want  a ‘ Green Card’. The Green Card as I know was the permission by US Government to visit and work in the States. From the 70s- 90s there was a large number of qualified Malayalee nurses going to US for better work prospects.

And why did you not become a nurse, queried Mom?Mom, I protested, you had warned me that whatever I become,  I should never be a nurse. So what!  she threw back at me – you could have defied me? Did she mean it  Princey let out a mixture of a groan with a huge belly sigh saying – don’t trust her, today she took fish cutlets out of the fridge and said all this is for you and while I slept she gave it away to insignificant neighbours.

Chapter 5 –‘Green Card’ – ‘The ticket to Americas’ (Part B)

It was break time for mom and she disappeared into the kitchen to pound some cardamom for a no reason (but  for dad – it was reason to live) ‘Payasam’ (sweet dish) for lunch. So where was Dad who like Princey would not leave mom alone for a second if anything of his choice was being cooked in the Abraham’s Kitchen. On a repeat enquiry mom said- he is up the banana tree in the backyard as I wanted some banana leaf for making steamed fish.

Surprised I said – but you don’t let him do that in the morning just in case  Aunty D seizes the opportunity to do some Adam teasing (remember Shame Shame?). Don’t worry assured Mom- I saw the whole family go out in the morning to Karol Bagh for the day. Even the recent Balakot attack by the Indian Army would not have been engineered with such precision as Mom used to time Dad’s ascension or descent on the banana tree to guard against any offensive verbal attack by neighbours.

So while mom was stirring the Payasam, I checked the adverts she had circled in the newspaper. 90 percent of them had one line for sure – ‘Only Girls with Green Card should apply’. Such well qualified young men and some even in the forces were keen to shut shop in India and marry any girl who had a green card. No strict conditions for the girl except a mandatory green card.

I could not let this pass without making my mark on it. And  I guess I was jealous because like all other young women of that time, I too had a fancy for men in uniform  and their lot were being eaten up by mallu (short for Malayalis) girls with green card.

Disclaimer – This is not an invitation for all the then short listed or rejected men in uniform to put in their applications now. Any such applications will be made into ‘ piece piece’ as said by Thangaballi of Chennai Express game.

I picked out a particularly deadly advert from Major Varky in the Indian Army who was calling out for a match for his son Sunil Varky (name not changed). The advert said – ‘Applications are invited from well brought up, sober and homely girls with Green Card for my son Sunil, officer in the Indian Navy. Those who do not have Green card will not be entertained said the advert emphatically. The contact and mail address was of Major Varky. Now the advert brought out the’ Bhadra’ (translated in earlier chapters)  in me and I was jolly well going to give Major Varky and Sunil a nice ‘Shake it” (as players protest in the game of Tambola- Housey?).

With Princey as a strong ally, I decided to put in a petition to the Indian army. I crafted a fine letter to Sunil Varky which to the best of my memory read as follows.

Hello Sunil

I don’t know if this letter will reach you or your father will just set fire to it after reading it. However, if it is destined it will reach you.

What a spineless man you are Sunil, aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You qualified after using the Indian Government’s resources to train yourself and then you decide to work for the Americas??? If you have guts man, be successful in your own country and if Major Sahab has any sense then he should encourage you to do so.

You will marry anyone who has a Green Card? Your dad defines your likes and dislikes?  What if the girl turns out to be a terror like me? C’mon Sunil if your dad had any sense and was your well-wisher, he would have respected your likes and dislikes.

Well anyway I am eligible and am enclosing my Green Card here so that it is proof for Major Sahab but I am not sure he will like my guts. Let me know if I fit the bill?

regards

Jeena Abraham

Along with the letter I put in a 8 by 8 inch green square poster paper with’ Green Card’ written on it. Princey sealed the envelope with her moist tongue and both of us sneaked out and posted it in the mailbox, just around the corner. I had no inkling of the outcome (which is a key to project planning and implementation) and I did not care. It was a pure prank! ‘Doston’ (friends ), I had put my correct address knowing that Major Sahab will not even spell New Delhi after reading the letter, leave alone respond or send a missile to Delhi?

Princey and I trotted back and innocently laid down for a leisurely well- earned nap assured that Princey would never give me away as she did not know how to write and mom never went to doggie school.

I dreamt of the Paysam and Princey of any nibbles from the soon to be made steamed fish.

Chapter 5 – Penultimate Part (Part C) 

Princey sensed the impending doom even before it fell on us. She barked ferociously at the postman who was putting letters into our mail box. Otherwise she was very patient with him as he always stood outside the gate except for ‘Bada Din’(Christmas) when he would make a failed attempt to enter the gate for’ Baksheesh’.

One of the matrimonial responses   caught more attention than usual as I could see mom’s face changing colours like the ‘Eastman Colour movies’ of our times. Shaking with anger she threw the letter at me asking  -What  is this? Who is this guy writing to you? Disoriented with sudden activity, I picked up the letter (from Sunil Varky) to read and it was as follows –

Jeena, my father read your letter in front of all the family members last Sunday and was furious. I don’t know what to say. Maybe you are right – I did not think much about it but now I do. But my father thought you are badly brought up insolent girl especially since you made fun of him with the green card.

When my parents slept my brother (married ) asked me what I thought of the letter? I said I would like to get to know Jeena. I know my father will not hear of it.  So if you get this letter please can you let me know if my brother and his wife can come to your place and visit you? It will be better if you send the letter addressed to me as dad does not even like to hear your name.

Regards

Sunil Varky

I confessed to my mother about what I had done and she was horrified. She did not like anybody else taking the lead. In Malayalam there is a very famous saying which when translated in English literally means “When the head is around the tail should not wag” and mom drilled that in several times.

She quickly consulted her brother in Bangalore and had a plan in place. Now when I say consulted in relation to my mom it means she has told the problem, decided on the way forward and endorsed it herself. I am sorry if your dictionary defines the word in any other way but I am sure none of you would like to challenge my mom?

Sunil Varky’s brother and wife were invited and they did come. Yes guys, the brother was more good looking than the picture he showed me of Sunil. He said Sunil wants to marry Jeena and I was a little uneasy that he had not even seen my picture. I strongly suspected that he wanted to add me (the new Malayalee missile) on to his own artillery to fire against his dad now and then. Sunil’s brother took my picture and his parting words were – I am not sure my father would even think about this.

Sunil and I did communicate (with my mom’s permission) and he was a very nice gentle soul.  However, the weak and frail are not for Abraham’s (pls read bible guys) daughter.  I also did not want to give Major Varky any competition from my mom so we continued being friends and communicating to each other for some time.

That night we had Kanji (rice with broth) and Dad asked me after the family rosary – why did you write such a horrible letter? I simply replied – Dad it was an instinctive reaction and somebody should put some sense into such people. Little did I knew that dad’s sense of humour was nicely steaming into a sweet revenge – soon to be seen in the last and concluding part of this series.

Chapter 5 – the final chapter (Part D)

 The TV was on and my parents were watching news in the evening. Dad could hear news even while napping. Princey was always interested in human affairs (but never had an opinion of hers) and I was editing an article for the Delhi church magazine.

 In those days there was this very articulate and smart Malayalee news reader  Shiny Mathews (name changed). I and mom loved the way she read the ‘News’. As the news started and the name of the news reader was displayed mom shouted at me – what is written? I said Shiny Singh(again name changed). So Shiny had got married to a Punjabi ! Those of you who survived the riots in the 1980s (during PM Indira Gandhi’s assassination) could not have survived the single handed riot (verbal ) that my mother launched mercilessly on north Indians and Christian parents who let their children marry outside caste, religion and culture. The one remark that is drilled into my head and I shall remember till eternity is  – ‘Oh my God a nice Girl has been thrown  into muddy waters’. Figure that out for yourselves guys. Now whatever happened, I am eternally grateful to Shiny Singh as she led the way for me to cross the north south divide in a years’ time. Thank you Shiny!

 Just then mom opened the last letter for the day from the matrimonial responses. Her dear (how dear I don’t know?)  brother had sent from Kerala with a picture. ‘Nice, she said as she passed around the picture. Justin James was from the merchant navy and mom was pleased that her brother had taken some initiative. Justin stood leaning against the deck with a pleasant look. When the picture was passed on to my sleeping dad he got up, looked and said – “Crazy he looks like a cleaner in Merchant Navy – see the big mop next to him as if he just cleaned the deck and is posing with it”. Mom got up suddenly to snatch the picture back. Her knees protested and the sofa moved to adjust and breathe.

 Within seconds my uncle was at the receiving end of my mother’s wrath on phone. Mom was drilling into him – My daughter is a post graduate with several other diplomas and you get a cleaner for her? My Uncle had forgotten to ask the rank as he did not think of it as a big issue. The boy was in the forces and employed. He protested and kept the phone down saying Chechi ki Vattu aa! Meaning elder sister is Crazy, endorsing my dad’s nickname for her.

Mom went into deep thought and the next few days she showed Justin’s picture to several friends and neighbours asking how is the guy?  She wanted to see if anybody notices the mop next to Justin. Nobody mentioned it. Dad made up several situations to drive in his point – “People like to pose at their work places on their tables or cricketers would sport their bats etc etc and this guy was only posing with his work tool”.

My Uncle refused to find out more about the guy and my mom settled in for Abraham’s verdict. After a week Justin’s credentials came in through some other channel and he was in an officer’s rank. But the harm had been done.  My mother had written him off.

 In a weeks’ time as dad and I were walking back from church I asked him Dad are you worried about my marriage – he said no, in fact I am scared of losing you. We hugged each other and I asked – Did you make that comment deliberately on Justin. To that dad smiled gloriously and said – Humara Sundaram ko nahi liya to humne, Justin ko Phenk diya (My Sundaram was rejected so I threw away Justin). Dad had taken his sweet revenge and it was a spontaneous reaction.

Chapter 6