Finding love

Shaarav was about to finish the conference call when his father walked into the bedroom. Shaarav did the goodbyes, looked at his father for a moment and then went back to editing the power-point presentation on his laptop.
“I hope there are no more calls for the weekend,” his father said.
“Dad, if we stopped doing conference calls and presentations, half the IT industry would become jobless.”
“What an industry! I wish we had something like this during our days.”
Shaarav looked up for a moment and smiled, “we are smarter.”
“Oh yes, certainly, but be less smart for one day. No calls or presentations for tomorrow.”
“Why, what’s up tomorrow?” Shaarav asked while still working on his laptop.
“Tomorrow we go out…” his father hesitated for a moment not sure whether he should say further but then realized he would have to anyway, “…to see a girl.”
Shaarav didn’t even bother to look up from his machine, “Not again, Dad.”
“Why, what is wrong in seeing girls for marriage?” his father came and sat beside him. There was a hint of desperation in his voice which was rare and Shaarav knew this was going to need more attention. He put down the screen of his laptop.
“Dad, we don’t see girls. I will let you know when I find one.”
“And how does one find a girl?” Shaarav could see that his father was making a brave effort to restrain his frustration, “I mean, you also have to take an effort to find the right person for your job right? You don’t wait till you find one.”
Shaarav didn’t have an immediate answer to that and that gave his father an increased assurance. “What I am trying to do is the same. I do the basic pre-requisite checks and shortlist a girl. You meet her and do the selection. If you are satisfied you take a call on whether to go ahead. Does that make sense now?”
Shaarav burst out laughing. “Ok, Ok I will come, but as per that process I take the final call, right?”
“Absolutely, that is a promise.” His father was visibly happy. He got up from the bed to leave the room and Shaarav went back to starting his laptop.
His father paused at the door before leaving the room, “Better go to sleep early tonight. We have to leave by seven in the morning.”
“Seven in the morning! Are we going for breakfast?” Shaarav joked.
“No, for lunch. We are going to Palus.”
“Palus? What is that?”
Shaarav’s father hated for having started this now. It would have been much better to discuss this in the car once they were on their way.
“Palus is a small town 200 KMs from here. Just 40 KMs off the NH4.”
“And the girl is from Palus?” the incredulity in Shaarav’s voice was obvious.
“Yes.”
“Dad, I am not going to marry a small town girl,” Shaarav sounded more determined than angry, “no matter what process we agreed.”
“She has only done here schooling there. All her higher education has happened in Pune.”
“And how high is that education?” Shaarav made no attempt to mask the derision.
“Well, she has completed her GNM…”
“GNM?”
His father paused for moment and then spoke suddenly as if having recalled something, “General Nursing and Midwifery. But she is doing her BSc in Nursing. Final year. First class in all semesters so far.”
The effort in his attempt to pass her off as a city bred, educated girl was evident and his father himself realized that. Shaarav didn’t speak for sometime letting his father settle down with that realization. After his mother’s death he had promised not to fight with his father ever.
“It is not as bad as it sounds,” his father said finally, resigned to the truth that it wasn’t how his son would have liked it. It was obvious that he desperately wanted his son to see the girl.
Shaarav went up to his father and put an arm around his shoulder. He spoke quietly as if he was the elder person. “Dad, I know you miss mom, and I understand that we need a woman in this house. But don’t you think this is going a bit too far, even literally.”
“Please son, just this one time, I promise…”
Shaarav cut him short. He didn’t like the pleading in his father’s voice. “No please business dad. If you want we go, everything else doesn’t matter. Ok?”
Tiny drops of tears formed in the fathers eyes and he hugged his son tightly. He wanted to say thanks but knew his son wouldn’t like it.
“But Dad,” Shaarav said, breaking free from the hug and the emotional clasp, “I still take the final decision and no please business there.”
“Hundred per cent,” his father reassured.
The brief emotional interlude seemed to have aged the old man suddenly and he felt tired and drained. He was leaving the bedroom when Shaarav spoke again in jest, trying to bring back some enthusiasm.
“Where did you find her dad?”
“I met her at the wedding of a friend’s daughter. She is the daughter of another old time friend, Sahebrao Patil.”
“Ah, a friend’s daughter,” Shaarav spoke slowly.
“You better go to sleep. We will discuss everything else in the car tomorrow,” his father quickly closed the discussion and walked away.
Shaarav went back to his laptop and then decided he may as well work on it during their long journey tomorrow morning. He switched off the lights and went to bed.
“Sahebrao Patil,” he spoke to himself amused. “I bet the girl’s name would be some Shanta or Kaushalya”

*****
“What is her name dad?”
They had been travelling in the car for almost two hours and the car had just veered off the highway onto the exit for the town. Shaarav had shutdown his laptop realizing that the road would be bumpy now and the connection flaky.
“What is her name?” he asked again.
“Ahilya,” his father said when prodded and Shaarav couldn’t suppress his smile.
“I know it’s a little old worldish, but what is there to laugh about,” his father retorted grumpily.
“I just won a bet with myself dad. Don’t be upset, but let me tell you that you are only wasting a lot of money on petrol today.”
The car had stopped at the toll booth and Shaarav’s father took out a `100 note to hand over to the driver.
“And some money on the toll as well…” his father added.
“I hope that at least the food is good enough.”
They looked at each other seriously for a moment and then suddenly both of them burst out laughing.
******
The first thing Shaarav noticed in the large sitting room was the shining black 42 inch LCD TV which looked a misfit in the old plywood showcase with broken drawer knobs and the worn out sunmica coming loose at ends, like a old woman wearing a dark lipstick; an anxious attempt to stay in touch with the times. The room looked bigger due to the high roof and natural lighting – there was load shedding for four hours every day due to summer – and they sat in a U shape with antique wooden chairs and a wooden sofa on the parallel sides. The base of the U was formed by an iron cot with a thick wavy cotton mattress, draped with a colorful satin bed sheet that was obviously kept aside for occasions like these. Shaarav and his father sat on the cot and right in front of them was the proud showcase with its prized possession, partly hidden by a single plastic chair kept in front that was obviously meant for the girl.
A large swing creaked in the background and able bodied men in long white shirts and loose trousers with Gandhi caps made famous again by Anna Hazare served hot kanda poha garnished with grated coconut and a slice of lime. It appeared extremely delicious but Shaarav soon realized that they were hot due to the generous slices of green chilies. Sahebrao was a boisterous man with thick moustaches who sat on a large wooden chair. The women, Sahebrao’s wife and the married elder daughter sat on the wooden sofa in front of him, their sarees draped dutifully over their foreheads.
Shaarav dabbled slowly through the phoa, trying to skillfully avoid the chilies. His father nudged him in the elbows slightly and whispered, “Finish your poha quickly. The tea will not be served till then.”
Shaarav couldn’t fathom why his father was keen on tea but took one final bite and kept the plate on the wooden tepoy in front. A man almost automatically came forward, poured a glass of water from the steel tumbler and offered it to Shaarav. Shaarav had never drunk such cool, refreshing water earlier.
“Shall we serve tea?” the girl’s mother asked Shaarav’s father and he shook his head in approval. The girl’s sister left the room immediately.
Shaarav watched the whole show with mild amusement. There was indeed a well rehearsed process at work here and everything worked automatically like a shop floor. Shaarav felt as if he was at a show of the local drama company.
The girl walked in carrying the tea tray, escorted by her married sister and the first thought that Shaarav had was of a Maharashtrian model on the centre page of a Marathi weekly on Gudi Padwa. She was dressed in a dark moss green sari worn in the traditional manner with the forehead covered and eyes firmly fixed on the tea cups. The only thing missing, Shaarav felt, was the large ceremonial nose ring.
Almost with practiced efficiency she first approached Shaarav’s father who picked a cup. She then moved to Shaarav, her eyes not once leaving the tray. Shaarav picked up a cup when the sister, still standing beside said, “Have some biscuits?” There was a steel plate with Glucose biscuits and Shaarav hesitated for a moment before picking one. He would always wonder later whether this was an intentional intervention designed so that the boy got an additional moment of proximity with the girl.
The girl then offered tea to others in her family and sat on the single plastic chair in front of the showcase. All positions were now taken.
“Ask,” proclaimed Sahebrao, as if throwing the floor open for Q and A.
“What is your name, beta?” Shaarav’s father began automatically with the starter. Shaarav could bet everyone in that room already knew her name.
“Ahilya,” she said, barely audible.
“What have you studied?” out came the next question, as if from a practiced questionnaire.
“I have finished my GNM and I am now in final year of BSc Nursing,” she replied with the same practiced effortlessness. There was no doubt that she had gone through this drill many times before.
“And which college do you study?”
Shaarav knew the purpose of that question. The whole thing was a set-up and it discomforted him. He wished he had picked a few more Glucose biscuits just to keep himself busy. Sitting there like that he didn’t know where to look, what to say.
“Why don’t you ask something?” Ahilya’s mother asked Shaarav gently.
“No, no I am fine,” he replied politely.
“In fact why don’t you two go out and look at our farm? Ahilya can show you around.” Sahebrao suggested suddenly.
“Yes, yes, that is a good idea.” It was supported enthusiastically by Shaarav’s father.
Shaarav wanted to protest – there was no point in extending the agony – but Ahilya was already out of her seat and moving towards the door that opened into the back yard, so Shaarav had no option but to follow her.
“The boy and the girl have to like each other. This is the modern age and we have to be in synch,” Shaarav could hear Sahebrao in the back ground and he knew his father would endorse that with just the right dose of references to their times and their own weddings.
Everything here followed a script. He didn’t need to go through the entire drama. He had already made his decision.
******
It was noon time in the peak of summer but a mild breeze blew outside and the shadows from the tall sugarcane plants on either side of the narrow path made it as pleasant as an evening walk. They walked quietly with Ahilya leading the way. Shaarav didn’t know how to start. He had never walked through a farm before with a village girl who was a marriage prospect.
“What is your name?” it was she who began the conversation.
“Shaarav,” he replied wondering whether this was as planned as his father’s attempt inside. Had she really not asked her family about his name earlier?
“Do you know what Shaarav means?”
He had never thought about it before.
“It means pure and innocent,” she said not waiting for him to respond.
“And what does Ahilya mean?” he asked feeling that he had to return the courtesy.
“It means maiden, sacred,” she replied.
He didn’t know what to say but she didn’t wait for his reply.
“Almost a synonym isn’t it?” she said.
She looked in his eyes for the first time and smiled and there was such a genuineness and assured familiarity in it that Shaarav didn’t know whether to be shocked by her impunity or taken in by her innocence. Was she clever, brave or simply stupid?
They continued to walk quietly and Shaarav felt it was his duty to break the silence this time.
“So what are your expectations from a husband?” he didn’t know what else to ask.
“Well,” she pondered for a moment, “he should be a nice man.”
Years of technical interviewing had prepared him for generalized answers like these.
“And how would you know if a man is nice?”
“Well you somehow know when you meet one. For example I was sitting there inside that room to be inspected but never once did you look at me.”
“How do you know that?” he smiled, “your eyes never moved from that tea tray.”
“A girl knows when a man looks at her.”
His logical mind failed to understand how but she said it with such certainty that he didn’t feel like questioning further.
“And what are your expectations from me?” she asked.
He had not expected the direct reference in that query and it put him off guard.
“Hmmm… I am looking for a girl who is loving and caring, who will take care of my father, who is well educated and humorous, and yes, someone who is nice,” he concluded with a big smile. “Too many things I am afraid.”
She smiled back, the same generous, affectionate smile. “What is wrong in having many expectations? You only marry once.”
He was surprised by her support. He always prided himself in being able to quickly get a measure of the other person, to anticipate the replies, but he was clearly struggling with her and that irritated him.
“Not in today’s world,” he added, not wanting to agree to every point of hers even if it was in his support. “Today people consider marriage as an option they can walk-in as well as walk-out from.”
“That is because they don’t love the other person enough. They only love themselves.”
The simple, irrefutable logic of her statements only fuelled his irritation. No one had done this to him before and he desperately wished he could pin her down, make her answerless for once.
“What are the things you love?” she asked suddenly, and with such childlike enthusiasm and interest that he wasn’t sure once again of his own feelings for her.
“Well, I love my dad and I can do anything for him,” he paused for a moment, “except marry.”
“How nice,” she said.
“I love to travel, and I love my job because it gives me an opportunity to travel. And I also love to eat.”
A sudden look of deep disappointment appeared on her face. “But I am not good at cooking,” she said with such seriousness as if it was a major disability.
“So what?” he almost wanted to say. He was surprised by her sheer guts, as if he had already selected her as his bride.
“Most of my college life I have spent in the city where we have a good mess,” she began to justify, which he felt was quite unnecessary. “And when we come home in the vacation Aai doesn’t allow us to cook.”
“Oh…” he said out of courtesy.
“I don’t enjoy cooking, that is the real problem,” she said in final self-condemnation.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said, finally sensing an opportunity to assert himself in the conversation.
“But that is not right,” she replied firmly, getting back her assured demeanor. “If you only pursue things you want the world would be such a selfish place. That is precisely the problem with the world today.”
It was too much for Shaarav. How could she close every argument like that, not leaving any room for the other person to maneuver, to make a point? They were approaching the house again and he felt the desperation to have one final say.
It was she who gave him that opportunity.
They were almost near the backdoor from where they had left when she stopped and asked, as suddenly and as sincerely as she had asked all her other questions, “so what is your decision about me?”
He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. Once again she had put him off-guard by her question but this time there wasn’t the warm, assured smile, but a distinct apprehension and he realized immediately, with all his interviewing experience that finally he had the upper hand.
“Hmmm…’ he thought for a brief moment. He wanted to ensure he didn’t relinquish his position easily this time. “It is very difficult to live with an intelligent girl who has a mind of her own.” He turned around to leave and then suddenly turned back and added, “And who doesn’t even know how to cook.”
For the first time she was too surprised to reply and he just turned around and walked into the living room, not giving her any opportunity to recover her position.
There was no final intelligent quote from her this time. He had at last managed to have the last laugh.
****
The atmosphere in the room was far more cordial and informal than when they had left. His father had moved into a chair next to Sahebrao and they were chatting about old times as if they were already a family. Shaarav took his earlier position on the iron cot but Ahilya went and sat beside her sister, her eyes fixed on the teapoy. The script had taken a new direction.
Shaarav looked at her and realized that his victory was complete. He had seen many candidates dejected on being told they had failed to make the next round. But with her it was something different. It was the unexplained gloom of a person whose name was announced for the next round and then being told it was not the case, that the whole thing was a mistake.
“Let’s have lunch,” Sahebrao announced, as if he had the authority to take all the decisions in that room.
“Oh yes, I am quite hungry,” Shaarav’s father added, and then looked at Ahilya. “I hope you guys are hungry too after your long walk.”
Ahilya looked at him and managed a weak smile.
“Not a good joke, dad,” Shaarav protested but his father seemed too happy to notice.
“I will ready the food,” Ahilya’s mother said and all the three ladies walked out of the room.
When they sat down for lunch, Shaarav realized that it would only be the men who would be served. The womenfolk didn’t join when there were guests around. As the two old friends chatted, Shaarav realized that he missed Ahilya’s presence. The feeling of triumph, of having got the measure of the other person was replaced by the disappointment of the contest having come to an end. Because, for a competitive player, a no contest was more hurting than a defeat.
A thin curtain hung on the door to the kitchen and every time a helper would pass through to bring a dish Shaarav would try to catch a peep inside. But there was no sight of her. And then a sudden thought came to his mind and he panicked; would she never come out again? Would he never get to see her again in his lifetime?
She should not have asked that final question. Did a girl ever ask a question like that after a fifteen minute talk? A man would need time to analyze the data, to reflect upon his thoughts and feelings. And even if he had made a decision how would he tell her on her face just like that? Was she clever, brave or simply stupid?
She couldn’t just vanish away leaving him behind with all these questions. It was not fair on him and he would have to find a way of meeting her again before they left. He had never felt this desperate desire to talk to a girl before.
They finished their lunch and Sahebrao once again made an announcement. “Let’s have a paan. That is the only thing Ahilya is good at making,” and he laughed out loudly.
“I would love to have a paan,” Shaarav added immediately and his father looked at him in surprise. He had never seen Shaarav eat a paan before.
Shaarav went and sat on the chair besides Sahebrao knowing Ahilya would sit on the sofa opposite. She walked in soon with the kit and Shaarav noticed that everything about her this time was ordinary; the printed chiffon sari, the complete lack of jewelery and the casual expression as if she was a natural part of the scene, not a ceremonious piece on display. And this whole ordinariness made it so normal, so lifelike, as if this was a family get together and she was part of the family. All the turmoil that Shaarav was feeling within himself suddenly seemed to go away in her presence.
The deep disappointment he could sense in her after their conversation earlier was no longer there. Was she used to being rejected?
She conversed naturally with his father and made him a paan of his choice.
“Ask Shaarav, he loves his paan.” Sahebrao said.
She looked at him and smiled faintly, the first time she was looking at him in the presence of others. “How would you want your paan?” she asked.
The only paan Shaarav had eaten was from the counter of South Indian restaurants. He had no idea how they were made.
“Make whatever you are good at. I wouldn’t mind trying a local flavor.”
“Don’t go for the local flavor. It will be difficult for you. Try something easy,” Sahebrao suggested.
“Should one not go for an option just because it is difficult?” Shaarav paused for a moment and looked directly at her. “I love the difficult things in life.”
Ahilya looked at him and their eyes locked as if trying to have a dialogue. He saw a momentary surprise in them and then a question, almost a mild reproach for taking such a long time and then her eyes broke into a smile – knowing, naughty and vulnerable all at the same time, at the full realization of what he had just said and what it meant for her. He had never seen a more beautiful smile before.
Shaarav felt a deep contentment within himself, a huge lightness of being. They sat there talking with their families, exchanging mundane pleasantries, yet completely engrossed in each other, like two people united in thought can only be.
*****
The car stopped at the toll plaza before entering the expressway and Shaarav realized that he and his father had been quite all through the hour or so since they had left Palus. He had been thinking about his rendezvous with Ahilya in the farm and he realized how difficult it was to converse with someone who was simply oneself; who had no ego to nurse, no position to protect, no point to make. It must require huge courage to make oneself vulnerable like that in front of a seeming stranger. And yet it must be so peaceful once you were able to achieve that. There would be disappointments and sadness but no guilt, no self-recriminations later.
He had the last laugh in that brief conversation, but afterwards it was he who was tormented while she had managed to make peace with herself.
As they were about to leave he had asked her what was her decision about him. She took only a brief moment before saying, “I will learn to cook,” and then broke into that infectious smile of her again. Giving up for her was easy because she had overcome the desire to withhold.
They had been separated only for an hour and he was already missing her badly. He looked at his father who sat with his eyes closed. Shaarav knew he was not sleeping, just waiting for him to start the conversation. Was he too afraid to ask or was he only keeping his part of the promise?
“Dad, how do you manage to live without mom?” that was the first thing that had come to Shaarav’s mind once he could get Ahilya out of it.
His father kept his eyes closed but Shaarav could sense the turmoil that must have begun inside, the thoughts that could have been triggered, the memories awakened. He kept quiet for a long time and when his father opened his eyes they were not moist with memory but vibrant with possibilities of the future.
“Doesn’t she have the same effect on you son, doesn’t she?” he repeated and both of them knew he was talking about Ahilya, not Shaarav’s mother. “This was the first thought I had when I met her at the wedding last week. I am so happy you agreed to come along and meet her.”
He never asked Shaarav whether he had liked Ahilya and Shaarav never felt the need to tell him about it. They were one in their joy of having finally found a lady to take the place of the one woman in their life they had loved and lost.