Arranged Marriage

My maternal grandparents married in 1939. Theirs was an arranged marriage, their parents, after 'approving' the other's family, had introduced them to each other. Grandpa (Nana) was 24 years old then, and Grandma (Nanima) was 18. In those days, an Indian wife's place was mostly in the home, though there were exceptions, of course.

Well, my Nanima - young, having shifted to a new city after marriage, wasn't about to be the quiet bride. "What are your hobbies?" she asked Nana.

"I like watching cricket," he replied.

"Do you like Hindustani Classical

One type of Indian classical music

music? I do," came the pert reply.

"Not really," Nana said, completely unsuspecting of what was to follow.

"Well, next time there's a concert in town, I'm getting tickets and taking you for it. And when there is a cricket match, you take me."

"I don't know a thing about music! And you won't understand cricket," Nana was always gentle, there wasn't even mild reproach in his voice as he pointed this out.

"Fine. I'll teach you and you teach me." Nanima wasn't to be dissuaded.

Nana, amused and intrigued by his outspoken new wife, agreed. His first concert, he was prepared to be bored. Her first cricket match, he was prepared to explain whatever he could. Neither went according to what he had anticipated. He wasn't bored at the concert because she was there, constantly whispering in his ear, getting him to appreciate the nuances of the singer's skill. Her first cricket match, he was forced to answer questions after every ball was bowled, she wouldn't stop the barrage.

And both events had him feeling really happy.

That's what Nanima had discovered. One of the secrets of shared happiness - shared hobbies.

Slowly, each grew to love the other's hobby. Nanima learnt to shout and cheer when action on the cricket field pleased her - something that was quite 'unladylike' in that era! Nana learnt to close his eyes and lose himself in a melody, or clap in time with a fast song.

When we, the nine grandchildren, came along, Nanima got us to share a hobby - acting. She would encourage us to get together at her home - from yours truly, the eldest, a pre-teen, to the youngest, a toddler - and put up plays. No adults were allowed in while we were rehearsing, and, when we were ready, the exploits of Dhondu the gardener or Seth the boss would fill the living room, to gales of laughter from family members. Once, we cut strips of paper, wrote the word 'ticket' on each, and asked the adults to pay, to see our play. Nana said, "I'll pay for the ticket when you pay me rent for the hall!" The strips of paper were torn up, pronto!

Sometimes, Nana and Nanima took us to see a play in an auditorium. We would dress in our best clothes and hold hands in a long chain - the youngest holding Nana's hand and the rest, with me bringing up the rear, holding each other. Nanima carried the food basket. She always brought a warm snack, lime juice, pickle - and steel plates and spoons for us to eat out of, all neatly packed in a basket, with dainty cloth napkins to wipe our hands with after the feast. We entered the theatre in a row, hand in hand, and sat in our seats, anticipating the treat to come - both in terms of entertainment and food! During the play, we were enraptured with the actors' antics, and in the interval, our taste buds and tummies were well taken care of with home cooked food. (We looked pityingly at those kids who bought chips or popcorn in packets, our food was so much nicer!) In the car on the way back, we discussed the play we had just seen - what we liked best, what we didn't like, what made us laugh or cry or shake with fright. Thus was the foundation laid for sharing our thoughts and feelings with each other for years to come. When an adaptation of "Tarzan" in the regional language was enacted, Nana managed to take us back-stage to meet the actors after the show. I boasted to my friends the next day in school, "My cousins and I shook hands with Tarzan!" When a puppet show came to India from Australia ('Super Kangaroo', it was), seventeen members of our family went for it, and a few friends, too, I think. For months afterward, we hummed, "Super Kangaroo, Super Kangaroo, I love you ..." each time we were together.

Once, Nana got two season tickets for an important five-day cricket match to be played in the city. Quickly, he phoned his daughters, and arranged for each of his five eldest grandkids to accompany him for a day. When Mom told me, I protested. "I don't know much about cricket. My cousins play the game, they'll like it more. Let one of them go twice, I'll skip it." Mom smiled and said that Nana was adamant - each of us five had to accompany him. When my turn came, I went, and sat overawed in the stadium, stunned by the thousands of yelling spectators around me. Each time India played well, Nana encouraged me to clap and yell. "Shout!" he said. "Your Nanima always shouts!" So I shouted, and it was fun! The ice-cream he bought from a vendor was fun, too ... sometimes, 'bought' food is enjoyable!

Nana passed away in 1995, Nanima in 1997. But they've left behind a close knit family of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. I thank that 18 year old girl who insisted her groom accompany her to a concert, and who tagged along with him for a cricket match - she knew it was important to share hobbies, I wonder if she realized just how much it would mean for generations to come.