Arranged destiny (Part 1)

"She was fair and slim. She was homely and convent educated. Good family background. Beautiful with traditional Indian values." Manisha was the culmination of the brides wanted matrimonial ads that appeared in Times of India. Not only was Manisha charming and well heeled, she was also a doctor, and for those who wanted beauty with brains, MBBS was the perfect suffix in a daughter-in-law. Even in the 60s, when feminism was still a nascent movement, it was acceptable for women to be doctors and by the 80s it was the desired qualification - being a doctor signaled that the girl was studious and industrious, and it fit in with the role of a woman as a nurturer and caregiver. Excited phone calls were made from Bangalore to Bombay, and from Bombay to Delhi, and the matriarchs of Punjabi Khatri elitedom were vying with each other to find a suitable boy for this golden girl of their clan.

Manisha had been born into a world of privilege. Her life was everything that Savita's wasn't. Manisha had breezed through life with her sweetness and charm. She was the only daughter, and Suresh Khanna , her father doted on her. She was dropped off to college in a chauffeur driven car, and her every whim was indulged. She knew that there was pain and suffering in the world, but she found it hard to imagine what that would be like. She often asked 15 year old Meena who worked in their house about her life. Meena was originally from Jharkhand in Bihar but her family had sent her to Bangalore several years ago. She lived in their house, and helped with small chores like making tea and ironing clothes.

Proposals had started pouring in for Manisha since the day she turned twenty. Her parents waited until she had graduated from medical school, and though her father was reluctant to part with his beloved daughter, eventually he was forced to give in to the onslaught of the Khatri matriarchs. "Suresh , at least meet the boy parents. They have a big shipping business you know. Manisha will live like a princess." "Suresh , you can't keep Manisha for ever. You have to let her go at some point. She is a daughter after all."

Manisha was quite excited at the prospect of meeting boys and getting married. Her parents had been very protective of her, and she hadn't really been with any men. Often, during exam week, she would read Mills and Boons and fantasize about falling in love passionately with someone tall, dark and handsome in the middle of a stormy night. Instead Manisha met her husband to be on a balmy summer evening at a restaurant in the Windsor Sheraton hotel in Bangalore. She was chaperoned by her parents, her elder brother and her aunt who had set up the match. The boy was accompanied by his parents and his grandmother. Vivek was a doctor as well. He was completing his residency in internal medicine in the United States. Vivek was good looking in the way many Punjabi men are. Manisha and Vivek spoke briefly about their work , talked about their hobbies and the kind of music they listened to. Around them their parents chattered about politics, common acquaintances, and the difficulty in getting reliable servants. The fact that they were consciously changing the lives of their children for ever was not mentioned once - as is often the case in upper middle class genteel environs in India, the most important things are left unsaid.

A week and two days later, Manisha was engaged to Vivek. Her parents seemed to approve of him, and she found no reason to dislike him either. Soon after their engagement, Vivek flew back to the US. He was only allowed three weeks of vacation in a year, so the wedding was set for early February after hectic consultations with the priest who decided upon an auspicious day. Manisha 's parents left no stone unturned in preparation for the wedding. Nearly a thousand people were invited, and rooms in two hotels were booked. Manisha's lehenga came from Bangalore's top designer Smita Prabhu - it was red silk encrusted with gold embroidery and sequins and weighed almost as much as Manisha. The food came from Bangalore's finest caterers , and though once or twice Manisha's mother had suggested prudence, her father had pooh poohed the idea. He wanted everyone to remember his daughter's wedding.

On the morning of her wedding, Manisha sat in her room trying out the different pieces of jewelry. She felt both excitement and nervousness. She had spoken to Vivek a few times on the phone, but still didn't know enough about him. The thought of the unknown scared her, but it also secretly thrilled her - all her life she had been protected and sheltered and she was itching to touch the world beyond. Outside she could here a gaggle of voices. Her father was shouting at the man who was hired to assemble the shamiana - the wedding tent. "Is this how you put a tent? Do you want kill all my guests," he said in a voice that was already hoarse with belting out orders. She would miss her father, whose eyes lit up everytime she walked into the room. She would miss this house, this room - where she had spent all her teenage years -the walls adorned with posters of Hollywood heroes, Vincent Van Gogh and the Beatles.
She would miss Banaglore.

Meena walked in to the room with a glass of juice, and watched Manisha as she fiddled with her bangles. Mansiha saw Meena's reflection in the mirror and smiled at her. "Didi, you look very beautiful," said Meena smiling back wistfully. Manisha gave Meena one of her necklaces. Meena hesitated and then very carefully she took into her hands and felt the radiance of the gold consume her. As Manisha saw Meena'a face shimmering , she hoped that marrying Vivek would give her that moment of shimmering happiness