1973: An 'Arranged' Story

So this is for the record, and a public one. By turns, it is a confessional, an appreciation, an expression of gratitude, and a time for reckoning. My wife and I have turned the 40^th anniversary yesterday. It’s a landmark year in our long journey and the celebrations, god’s grace, will continue the year round.

Haven’t seen many people praise their spouses in public, don’t know why, may be it’s taboo, may be it’s done in whispers, but it’s not going to stop me from doing it. This much is due to her, in the minimum. This is the payoff time, and I won’t default.

Our journey began 39 years ago. 9^th June, 1973. An ‘arranged’ marriage where you seal your own fate with your own hands in a matter of minutes. You meet, you talk, at the end of the fifth minute you say ‘yes’, and .. pooof .. you are gone, you both are gone. In today’s jargon, one could call it ‘outsourcing’ from one’s parents or well-wishers, the most important decision of one’s entire life. It was Saturday and just when the wedding ceremony began at 6-15 in the evening at a hall near the Victoria Terminus Railway Station in the city of Mumbai, the season’s first rains had arrived with a thunder. History has not recorded what else the marriage had brought along with it, but the newly wed couple soon figured out that the ‘outsourcing business’ was quickly over, and that their own future had to be built by themselves, brick by brick, layer by layer. It didn’t seem easy then.

On the day of the wedding, Pragna had already graduated in Medicine from University of Mumbai and had just finished her internship. I qualified as a Chartered Accountant two months after the fateful day. She secured her first job one month after the marriage, I did two months later. It was obvious that my wife was a woman in hurry. Thirty nine summers later, she is still ahead of me, and the race is happily not over.

Call it an orthodox community, call it male chauvinism, or call it the sign of the times, but in 1973, in India, coming from a Gujarati background, not many women were taking up jobs, although the Prime Minister of the country was a woman, Mrs. Indira Gandhi. But having secured a higher education, it was in the nature of things, that Pragna  would swim against the tides, and she did, admirably.

1972. USA had announced its first manned space-shuttle program. The colour television had just come into the Mumbai homes in 1972. For us, before the children arrived, the obvious dreams any young couple generally courts, were all in place. What number of children was a good enough number? What level of education was a good level to aim at, in the minimum? How much math and science would be encouraged and made a strong backbone into? How much discussion, debate and forming opinions would be encouraged as part of a daily diet? In every such exercise we indulged in, one thing clearly struck out. I had a great partner to work with, to plan and to structure the future, who would sometimes support one’s points of view, sometimes tear into the core of the arguments and demolish them. Sometimes the differences were sharp and irreconcilable, sometimes enjoyable and educative. The summation, however, was always clear. As far as the children were concerned, both of us held a single vision of them, of strong individuals, fiercely competitive, no gender bias, and most of all, self-dependent. With nature’s blessings and grace, and persevering hard work of the children, we were amply rewarded, with our dreams fulfilled with what we had set out to attain. Years later, we had a surprise bounty from nature, though in the most tragic circumstances, in gaining the lovable company of a niece who later carved for herself her own future and a strong niche place all by dint of her own hard work and industry. But honestly, between you and me, keeping aside my male ego for a moment, I may liberally confess that all this would have been well nigh impossible, without the steadfast participation, and a proactive attitude to life, most often taking a leading role, on the part of my life partner in bringing up the children the way they were. Of course, the children, as everywhere in all families, would have grown out of the parents’ inabilities, and inanities, if that were the case, and struck on their own, but from our perspective, the fact remains that Pragna rode on two horses at once, one as a professional and the other, for the family. Acknowledging her leading role, in the long-winded manner that I have, and with all humility at my command, is necessary and imperative, since in our journey together, the children have without doubt occupied a good amount of our time and continue to do so.

Having worked in a giant public health department all of 35 years of her life and having superannuated from that job at statutory age, Pragna passed through multitude of situations when her integrity, probity and public accountability were tested and tried and each time she came out unscathed. In her social interactions, due to her natural dispensation towards straightforwardness, outspokenness, distaste for both superstitions and ritualistic religious beliefs, she found herself in many avoidable tight corners. She would not be bothered, nor deterred.

June 2002. One evening I felt discomfort in my chest. Same day late evening, we met the cardiologist. On seeing the ECG, the doctor advised Pragna that it would be better if an angioplasty procedure was done soon. She took the decision in seconds and within one hour I was hauled into the hospital cathlab and before midnight, a major disaster was averted to give me many more years of quality life. This is a lifetime debt I don’t think I can ever repay or even try to.

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A completely restless person, within one year of superannuated retirement, she bounced back to get another job at Jaslok Hospital. Admittedly, it’s a race I cannot catch up with. I don’t know what will happen when she finally decides to hang her sandals, or at all.

In 2008, President Barrack Obama famously gave away one of the secrets of his successful marriage, in a White House chat. He said, addressing the male staff, “if you want to be happy like me, and even successful, marry someone who is taller than you, and who is more intelligent than you.” Allow me to brag this once. I already knew the second part of his tip nineteen years before Obama tied his knots with Michelle. I have never regretted my decision since then. Indeed, I am glad that the President did exactly what I did earlier.

Our own journey continues ….. there is a long way to go …… and as Frost would say, “promises to keep, and miles to go”……. before we both call it a day.