An Arranged Love Story

Autobiography of a Middle Class Woman - An Arranged Love Story

On one cool rainy morning in July, 2007

     Woken up by the cool breeze that invaded through the little gap between the blanket and bed, I opened my eyes. My eyes stuck on the man who’s standing near the window side, near my side of the bed, throwing out circles of smoke into the rain.

Still looking at the man, I tried to lock myself inside the blanket. Nothing can stop this man, he won’t change. He wont change unless he felt himself.

“You started smoking in the morning”, I asked.

“What do you want, Kutta?” he replied.

“Why I want? Don’t you know that it’s killing you?” I asked in fake anger.

“Start fighting in the morning itself, give me a break“.

“You know, what day is it today, Sunnichaa?”

“Do I have amnesia? It’s been 25, right..?

“Yeah, 25 years. Ohh, My holy Christ, how I lived with this old man for this long?”, I prayed in humor.
“I’ve been asking the same, myself and don’t forget, you’re nearing half century too.” He told with a smile, which is itself was an anniversary gift for me.



“Now, wake up and make me tea, its 7am” He gave a gentle noisy slap on my arms so as to wake me up.
“You never allow me to sleep.” I complained waking up from my bed. I knew my statement was false, coz, it’s him who wakes up earlier than me.

After freshening up, I went to kitchen. There’s already half cup of hot tea in the blue Eagle flask. He has woken up half hour before me, made one and half cup of tea and has left me my usual quota of half cup. I poured the tea from the flask, added two teaspoons of sugar and stirred it.

Then I went to check if milk has come. I opened the front door, and the milk bottle, near the newspaper in the sit out. I took both, and went back to kitchen to make another two cups of tea.

I opened the milk bottle, poured it into the milk cooker, placed it on the burner and lighted it. Then I started enjoying the half cup of tea.

“25 years, life is moving so fast“. I thought.

Those days, even its 25 years old, was still crystal clear like the rain water.

Memories rushed at me as the cool breeze through the window soothed my skin.

I had just finished my graduation in Zoology when the proposal came. It was my daddy who told me about it.
“Annie, his name is Mathew, but his family name is Sunny. 29 years old, Manager in Bank of Cochin, now posted in Kattapana”. Daddy was happy in telling me about the proposal, because he was a First Class Graduate from a famous college in our district and was the second and last son from a well reputed family in his village, which is 20 kms from my home. His family was well enough for our family, and he had no liabilities.

I didn’t know what answer to give. And I think I wasn’t supposed to give any answer. 25 years back, things weren’t like this. Girls had no choice, but to accept their familiy’s decision. My elder sister was brave enough to fight for her love, and she eventually succeeded in it. My father wasn’t that conservative as the other folks of the time. Seeing the family and education of the guy, my father agreed to surrender to her wish whole heartedly.

But, I had no love. I had no one, though I was fair and good looking. I had had received so many love letters that time. But none of the guy felt good enough to catch my heart. So I had no option, other than to give up to my parents wish. But, I had that trust in my parents that they would find the right guy for me.

The next week, Sunnichaa (Sunnichaa is the abbreviated form of Sunny Achaayan, achaayan is something Christian girls in our area call their husband) came to my house with his relatives. My folks had a long chat with his folks, they agreed upon the dowry and fixed the date to three weeks later. Meanwhile I served tea for the visitors. I had a quick glance at him. To be honest, the first impression wasn’t that welcoming. He was dark, 5′10” tall, well built and his face, decorated by a thick well trimmed moustache reflected his rough character. He seemed like a cruel Police officer in the Malayalam movies and I was really terrified by his brown eyes.

When they left, I told Mummy that I’m scared of that guy. Mummy said that he seemed like a responsible guy, and he would be able to manage a lazy, talkative girl like me. I wasn’t satisfied by that assurance and my later nights were often disturbed with nightmares. I was afraid that he would be strict and independent freedom loving character will be caged by him.

One week later, marriage engagement ceremony was held in my house. His relatives and my people came for it, but he wasn’t able to attend it. ( I was actually lucky to see him at least before marriage, which some other friends hadn’t got)

Two weeks after engagement, on a Sunday, July 25^th we were married in the church in his village. The Bishop blessed us, and we posed for photos right after the marriage and before the grand lunch which has been arranged for the people. Still smile rarely seemed to visit his face. He appeared tough as if someone has looted his entire smile. Thanks to late arrival of colour photos, otherwise our pair would’ve resembled the opposite players on the chess board in those snaps.

Two days after marriage, we left to his workplace 150 km from our place, on his Yezdi bike. I felt like going on a trip with a stranger, though I’ve been with him for the last two days, which were busy with visiting relatives.

He kick started the bike, I sat on the pillion seat and my hands searched for a place to hold. His right solid hand grabbed my right hand, placed it over his flat, but solid waist. He turned his head over his shoulders, smiled at me and asked “Shall, we start?”.

That wasn’t a fake smile; it was a smile from the heart. That’s what I always liked at him for the past 25 years. He smiles not so often, but when he does it, it is genuine, deep inside from his heart.
I’ll say, that smile, his action of grabbing of my hands, which was my turning point in my life. That moment, I felt I was secure in the world. If trust is something you care in a relation, that was the moment, I started trusting the man with the stone cold look. That was the moment, which has laid the foundation for the pillars that hold the next 25 years of my life.

Through out the journey, my hands were gripped strongly on his waist like a kid holding the hands of his father. We were welcomed warmly by his colleagues in his work place, and the neighbours around our new home. On the coming days, I learnt about him from my experience and from his colleagues and the innocent neighbours in that area. He was a man of principle, but loved and respected by the people around. The respect came from his straight forwardness, for his lack of acting and for his stubbornness. He was simple, but strong in his heart, with a mind which never accepted failure. He couldn’t be influenced, he always had his opinions and he stood for his word at any situation.

His colleagues were afraid of him, but it was a fear out of respect. He was notorious for his fights with his seniors, where he made them defenseless with his notes. But they all respected him for his punctuality and his efficiency and dedication. He always had friends and he was famous for his quick wits and dialogues in sharp humor, but he knew where to draw the line.

Though scared with his colleagues remarks, I knew somewhere in my heart, I had started loving the man. It wasn’t a forced love; it was love that has sprouted from my heart for the man of my life.  He wasn’t a man of show-off; he knew nothing of showing love. His conversations were neither romantic as in movies, nor his gestures. He never mastered the art of gifting, but I counted him as a gift for my life. But I started sensing the love which hid in his words, and in his actions.

I always felt secured and strong in his company. I was actually proud to be the better half of my man. Although we were so different in our nature and in our habits, I felt he was the right person for me. In a way, he completed me for what I’m not, and I pray, I completed him.

He was a good smoker and I hate smokers, but later I started liking the smell of his sweat which is mixed with the smoke of the Charminar cigarette he smoked. Later in my life, I hugged his shirts which carried his odour, whenever I was feeling lonely for his distant visits to the work places. The fragrance of those shirts was always comforting for me and was strong to fill me with security.

11 months later, when I was taken to the hospital for delivery, I sensed his pain and worries in his eyes. I wasn’t afraid that moment because he was with me. After delivery, when he came to my room, to visit me and the baby girl; from the thick smell of cigarette smoke, I could guess the number of cigarettes he had puffed out of tension. He was smiling, carrying the baby in his arms and his look at me with the pride of a father was more than enough for a less ambitious woman like me.

But, during these 25 years, we’ve fighted countless times. I disliked his stubbornness in some moments, and the 8 year age difference wasn’t a barrier for me to have long fights with him. The fights were always verbal, and even in those fights, he was controlled, not letting even a bad disgraceful word from his mouth. Even in the extremes of the fight, he never called me my real name, or the “edi, podi, nee, aval” words. I’ve wondered in my life how he managed to do it. He always called me “Kutta”which meant ‘dear one‘, inspired from one of the famous Malayalam movie of that time. The way he respected the woman in me was really a matter of envy for others. There were occasions where I’ve forgotten my real name was because I never heard it in my house. It was either Kutta from him or Mummy from our children. Still our relatives and our family friends are amazed by my pet name, because it was hard for them to spot that soft part of Sunnichaa.
If the fights were real serious, he would keep his silence for the coming days. He never talked to me or to our children. Our children always complained of this nature of him, for not talking to them for our fights. Later the reason was revealed to me. “If I talk to our children, and keep avoiding you, you’ll be hurt more with the avoidance.” So as the part of the plan of hurting me less, he burdened himself in keeping the anger to himself.

He gave up his drinking when he understood that I hated the habit, and my love and respect for him grew even more when I saw him turned down the offers and compulsions from his friends, in a gentle, polite yet solid manner, just as the way he refused to accept any bribes or favours the people offered in his job.
Later in my life, I was amazed by the financial management of him. From his salary, we had the opportunity in living with enough luxury of the people of our standard. His Yezdi changed to the Bullet, then an ambassador to fiat, then to Maruthi and then to Hyundai Accent. But, he wasn’t luxurious; he knew where to spend, and how to spend. Even during the times, when we were building our beautiful home, or when he was jobless for six months due to the amalgamation of Bank of Cochin to State Bank of India, he cared enough to not pass the worries to me. That was his nature, he always carried the pain with himself, and he enjoyed un-sharing it. He saved enough to build the house, a two storied eight room shopping complex on our inherited land, and proudly marry our daughter to her new family. He was so brilliant, so accurate in his planning and calculations…

25 years, I still don’t feel that I’m reaching my fifties. I am still young in mind, happy and satisfied because he allowed me to be myself. I still feel like the young lady who started the journey with a stranger in some unknown solid trust.

“PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”

The recollection of the past years were interrupted by the whistle of the milk cooker. Tears filled my eyes as a gratitude to the almighty for the life I’ve had.

Wiping off tears of happiness, I made tea from the steamy milk. I poured the tea into the cup, and the rest into the flask. I brought the cup and the flask to the drawing room where he was performing the art of reading newspaper along with watching television.

He dint looked at me, he took the cup and start sipping it. I looked at him, and asked.
“Don’t  you feel to give me anything as a present for our anniversary?”
“Kutta, How many anniversaries we had till now?” he countered.
“I believe its 25, 25 long years”.
“How many times, I’ve gifted you anything for our anniversary?”
“Two times, during our first one and the one after our house warming”
“So, during last 25 times, only two times, I’ve gifted you. So Kutta, tell me,  what made you think that I should gift you this time”

“C’mon Sunnichaa, its our 25^th, silver jubilee of my miserable life with you. I should be given a reward right??” I teased him.

“So only you deserve reward, nothing for me who suffered a lazy, irresponsible, naughty creature like you?”

“Ok, I’ll give you the reward”. I suddenly got up from my chair, and kissed hard on his cheeks. His sharp stubble pinched my lips.

“Don’t try to persuade with your love expressions, you know I wont fall for it..” He laughed, teasing at me.

“Anyways, since you’ve asked, there’s a small blue case in my brown pants hanged in the bedroom. Kuttan can take it as my gift”.

I rushed to the bedroom in anxiety, as if a child runs for his toy. I checked the pockets of his brown pants and my hand caught a small case.

I brought it out, it was a small navy blue case with the name of a famous jewelers embedded on it. I opened the cute little case, and found a beautiful golden ring with a blue-sapphire stone mounted on it. I ran back to him with the ring.

“C’mon Sunnichaa, put the ring on my finger”. I asked him with a smile which expressed all my happiness. He took the ring and wore it on my right ring finger. The ring was perfect for my fingers, exact size. (How can he be wrong? )

“What if I haven’t asked you for the gift? You would have given me it voluntarily?” I asked looking at him.

“No, I’ll give it to our servant then; I think her lucky stone is same as yours”. He slapped my at my shoulders and we both laughed out loud.

I always looked at the new generation who were afraid to have an arranged marriage. The world has changed, but I believe Love hasn’t. I was able to love a man more than myself, even though I have seen him just once before marriage. I couldn’t digest the modern ‘Love break-ups‘ and ‘Move-On‘ attitude, may be its my ignorance. But if you’ve faith in your guy, if you feel secured in his presence, if he has a heart which catches your mind even before you think about it, then I’ll say, he’s your guy. I know it, because that was what I learnt from us.


Thanks to the Almighty
By
Annie Mathew a.k.a Sunnichaan’s Kuttan.