An ABCD Rascal Negotiates a Marriage

The Singhis migrated from  Murshidabad, the seat of the  Bengal Nawabs  in pre-British days. After the infamous Clive cornered  the Nawabs, the administrative center switched to  nearby Berhampur. You see, the Singhis were the first middlemen  for the British traders when Kolkata was still  an army garrison surrounded by sleepy villages. By the time the Sepoy mutiny came along, the Singhi family was incredibly wealthy.

Amar Manjil , the ancestral Singhi mansion,  is still there today, with its rows after rows of dusty rooms, a polluted lake, goats grazing around  the ruined gazebo, peeling paint  all over, and numerous descendants  living in middle-class drudgery. But   the legend lives on. Yes sir, the Singhi family members have spread all over the world by now, but they are very rooted, a very proud bunch.

Vijay  and Nomita Singhi were happily raising two children in St. Louis.  Sumi, the elder one, was not a problem. Neil was a little frisky. They were bent on instilling the right values in their children.  They were loving parents, but very, very strict.

 Childhood passed peacefully. A teen Sumi turned out to be the ideal desi child. She would join Nomita for Puja every day. Henna, Kohl, Mehendi - Sumi loved them all. Nomita will brush her daughter’s waist length shiny black hair and tell her how a Singhi daughter should live her life.

“I got married without ever seeing your dad. My parents found this wonderful man for me. The Gods made this match for us! Look how happy we are! This is the only way, Sumi, the only way for Singhi women to find true happiness!”

Neil the little rascal played his parents. To the hilt. You want traditional values? Want  high moral standards? OK, mom  and dad, but it’s going to cost you!

No dating! – The Singhis decreed! OK.

No dating in Junior High was purchased with state of the art video games. No dating in high school was imposed only with a new car when all of Neil’s  friends were driving around in beat up jalopies. No dating in college was much more pricey, it cost the Singhis a brand new Lexus with a   deafening audio monstrosity and other customized insanities. Neil, in spite of being probably the only 22 year old virgin male in his class, was the envy of  his college buddies!

Sumi did her MBA and started to work in a Fortune 500 company in town. With a heavy heart, the Singhis realized that it is time to look for a handsome son-in-law.

The proud Singhis  chalked up a profile for the prospective groom

Of course, he had to be a Bengali Brahmin with the right Gotra and compatible astrological sign. But the Singhis wanted a lot more. They wanted the  grooms  parents to have been born and brought up in the Murshidabad district or within a close proximity of it. That way, Vijay said, they will be respectful of our Singhi legend!  They also wanted the parents to have migrated to US, preferably in the Midwest, so that the groom will have the same social background as Sumi. And last, but not the least, Nomita said, he must have a professional degree or  a Ph.D  and yes,  have a higher salary than Sumi.

This was one of the hardest set of criteria to fulfill, but they did not know that. Nomita started making frequent trips to Amar Manjil in India. They tried ads, friends,  ghataks, you name it. They often came close.  Miraculously, after one year of searching, they found a family from rural Murshidabad, who owned a motel in New Jersey. The son was  nice , had  a master’s degree in history , but was merely a supervisor in a large hotel chain. The salary thing kicked in. No cigar.

Singhis’  criteria for a groom were downright absurd. But  they kept on searching. They would not budge an inch. They were the proud Singhis!

Months passed by. Then years. A dejected Sumi gave up her managerial job and went back to medical school. She would study for four additional years to become a physician.

Sumi finished her years of  residency. Started working  at  a respectable clinic. Still single!

Dr. Sumi Singhi now lived alone  in a large house in a comfortable suburb of St. Louis. She was thiry-seven. The henna did not make her hair as lustrous as it did before. Years of hard work had etched lines on her pretty face. The doe eyes were still beautiful, but they  did not sparkle as they used to. She stopped exercising a few years ago, her naturally curvy body is gradually turning chubby.

She still wanted to be a true Singhi daughter. There was no way she would betray her parents.

Neil the rascal, meanwhile, forced the Singhis to  a compromise. He would marry a pretty Bengali girl, he told the Singhis, but that’s it. No other constraints. Look what happened to didi!  He hooked up with a lovely Bengali girl on the internet and married within a month.

Neil thought about her didi’s plight a lot. Finally, he hit on  a crazy plan.

“Sumi, our parents tried, for years and years. Give me a chance. I will do an “advanced search” this summer. It will cost a lot of money.  But it might work.”

“How much money do you need for an ad and stuff?”

“This is advanced search Sumi. It can cost  thousands of dollars! I will only ask you for money if it works. Think about it!”

Within a few weeks, he got a match. Sumi was incredulous.

“Look” Neil said “I think you will like Ashok Banerjee. He grew up in Chicago. His parents are deceased. Never got   married. Studied like hell all his life. He is a distinguished professor of economics in a large public school. Right now, he makes more money than you. In a couple of years, your doctor’s income will kick in and you will make a lot more than him. But mom and dad don’t need to  know that.”

“What about the other stuff? The Murshidabad link and all?”

Neil told him his plan. Sumi was stunned. This is not what she wanted. But this was her only chance! She agreed!

The Singhis  arrived at  Muradpur rail staion, a one-street town about twenty miles from Berhampur,  with relatives from Amar Manjil and  Neil in tow, with his $5000 video camera rolling. He wanted to film the entire trip!

They went to Ashok’s ancestral house where his parents were born. Talked for an hour with Ashok’s uncles and aunts. Talked to the neighbors, went to the only decent tea-shop in town. Nomita even chatted up the owner of the “Stationery store”  with the pretext of buying batteries for her digital  camera! Everyone was full of praise of the exemplary son of the Banerjee family who migrated to the US in the eighties. They talked about his charisma, his humility, and his pride for the people of Murshidabad.

The ecstatic Singhis came back to US. The marriage was on!

Neil was ecstatic too. Sumi was writing him a check for about five lakhs. This was the money he  spent on the charade. Plus she owed him five thousand dollars for the video camera!

“I hired a movie director from Kolkata, didi. Almost everybody on the main drag of the town was hired as extras. The uncles and neighbors were unemployed actors from Kolkata Studios.  Everyone had to memorize the life story of  Ashok’s  parents. We even had a rehearsal to make sure everything went all right. The local folks thought we were shooting a movie on location. They were all thrilled!”

Ashok’s deceased parents grew up in Delhi. This whole trip  was a sham!

In spite of the deception, Sumi was happy. She was getting married without ever seeing Ashok. He was a Bengali Brahmin. This is very much what her mom wanted.

“I would take full responsibility if dad ever finds out” Neil said. “You are not supposed to know any of this.”

“You little rascal”, she smiled  as she gave him the check.

P.S. I gave you a happy ending because you wanted one! The real “Sumi” is about forty-five now, has successfully transformed herself to a fat, ugly, cranky  old maid. The last time I saw her, she was even sporting tufts of  hair on her chin. Yuck!

Yes, you guessed it, I had a crush on her twenty years ago, but I wouldn’t  go near her today!

All this,  thanks to our proud Singhis. I told them years ago to quit this desi mumbo-jumbo and make their daughter happy! Why would they listen to me? I am just a heretic scoundrel!

People like Singhis are historical relics in modern day India. But we see them all the time here, fingering vadas in parties, making their impassioned speeches about our heritage!

Heritage my ass! Next time I see you, I will shove those vadas you know where, you morons! You ruined your  own daughter’s life, you freaks! You destroyed your own flesh and blood!

There, I feel a lot better! I will go take my valium now!