The Arranged Marriage— Act 1, Scene 3
Setting — It is early morning, around 5.30 AM. Alexa is playing the Venkatesha Suprabhatham in the living room. Savitri, her wet hair in a towel bun, is busy with morning kitchen prep. The oil lamps have been lit in front of the Gods. Fragrance of frankincense and camphor pervades the home, along with that of crackling mustard seeds in ghee. The sizzle of dosa batter landing on a hot griddle is heard every few minutes. Wherever Savitri walks, she adds another dimension to this multisensory experience — the lingering scent of Mysore Sandal soap.
Vasudev is sitting groggily at the dining table, fully dressed for school, waiting for his morning caffeine to kick in. Kritika is spread-eagled on their bed, fast asleep, with messy hair and a trickle of drool down her chin. Karuppa is out for his morning walk (jet-ski) with Shankar.
Savitri sets down a fresh bowl of water and kibble for Karuppa, and goes into the other room to get dressed for the day.
Vasudev soon leaves, needs to catch a bus to school. Shankar and Karuppa return past 6.30 AM, both panting. Shankar has a bloody scrape on his left arm, and there is a long muddy tear on his dhoti. He limps over to wash, later applies some turmeric over it, wincing.
Savitri: (alarmed) What happened?! Did you fall down?
Shankar: This stupid dog saw a cat under a car, ran from between my legs, knocked me over, dragged me for 20 meters towards the dustbins. He didn’t even catch this cat, for all the trouble he gave me!
Savitri: Ask Dr Ramesh to give you a tetanus shot, your wound looks scary. Also, before I forget, there were 3 missed calls on your phone. I did not check who was calling, though.
Shankar: Banks have begun to spam us this early in the morning, now? (looks nonplussed)
One is from some unknown number, Truecaller says the person is in Sringeri. The other two are from Sethupathi. I’m calling him back now. What he wants from us this early, I don’t know!
(holds his phone to his ear. A very scratchy caller tune plays, some song praising Lord Muruga. A sleepy voice answers.)
Shankar: Sethupathi, good morning! I had some missed calls from you quite early today, is there anything urgent? (listens, brows furrowed) Let’s only look at previously unmarried grooms, Sethupathi. My daughter is just 27 —
(polite pleading on the other end, something about how she is past a desirable age for most grooms in their preference bracket, something about taking a chance with just one candidate from Malleswaram who he is going to see tomorrow, rich family, golden boy who was not at fault for his divorce… Shankar cuts him off abruptly)
NO, Sethupathi. If these are the kind of matches you are going to bring us, we would not want to speak to you on this again —
(Sethupathi blunders on about how everyone in the community knew about Kritika’s previous relationship so it would be difficult to get a ‘first-hand groom’ within their circles, so Shankar sir should be reasonable in understanding the views of the other side also…)
Shankar: (shocked) How on earth did people come to know? We hadn’t announced anything! Even Savitri’s sister does not know a pinch of what happened.
(Sethupathi sheepishly mentions Kritika’s social media public presence)
Shankar: Well, there’s nothing to be done about that now, is there? So everybody knows. So what? My daughter has not become some pile of scrap I’m looking to pawn off to the earliest bidder now, am I? Can you imagine how hard it must have been for her, Sethupathi? To say yes to our idea, and move on so bravely? She has no intention of hiding anything, even from the men she is going to meet from here on.
(Sethupathi mumbles something about how it is going to be very difficult to find a groom for her with this sort of mindset)
Shankar: (thunders) Well then, we do not need to waste our time meeting such narrow-minded people. Tell me, Sethupathi, are all your grooms pure ghee? Tell me! Which brand? GRB? Nandini?
(Savitri laugh-snorts into her tea, and gestures for Shankar to hang up, shaking her head, indicating a waste of time)
Shankar: This is ridiculous. Either you get us suitable grooms as per our preference, or you accept defeat, Sethupathi. So what will it be? Let us know. We do not have time to waffle around. (cuts the call and angrily tries to shove his phone down a non-existent pocket. The phone falls down the inside of his dhoti and clatters to the ground) The NERVE of that man! Thoo!
Savitri: (gently) Calm down, ayya. It’s not his fault — if there’s anyone you want to blame, you should blame the boys and their families. Sethupathi is just doing his business and trying to match people. Who’d have imagined that time would fly by, generations would pass, yet their thinking would be left behind in 1947?
Shankar: (pacing angrily) Do they not have any history, these boys? Of course they do. They’re vanaspathi hiding behind a pure ghee label, that’s all.
Kritika: (sleepily) What’s the hubbub? Why is everyone shouting?
Savitri: (apologetically) Oh, we woke you up! So sorry, kanna. Nothing for you to worry about. Do go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up when I leave for work in an hour.
Shankar: Savitri, let me go deal with this nonsense man in person. He thinks he can get away with anything on the phone.
Kritika: Appa — where? What? Did you take your BP medicine? Why do you have turmeric all over you?
Savitri: Yes, dear, take your BP medicine, please. Karuppa knocked him down, Kritika, and Appa had quite a wound on his left arm. Nothing to worry about. Can you please remind him around midday to take a tetanus shot? Dr Ramesh’s clinic is usually empty at that time.
Kritika: But why was he shouting?
Savitri: Oho, go now, these are all matters for grownups in the house. Nothing that children should bewilder their brains about. Ennanga, what was that other number? The first missed call?
Shankar: Some Sringeri number. No idea. Maybe some donation nonsense. Let them call back, we’ll see.
Kritika shrugs and goes back to bed, falls asleep in minutes. Shankar’s phone rings again. The ringtone is ‘Doddavarella JaaNaralla’ (translation — ‘not all adults are smart’).
Shankar: It’s that Sringeri number again. If it’s fake donation scam again, I’ll report them to the police I swear — hello?
(younger voice on the other side politely enquires if he is speaking to Mr Shankaranarayanan. Shankar puffs up in pride and joy at being addressed by his full name.)
Yes, this is Shankaranarayanan. Who’s speaking?
(the other person makes a general enquiry for the good health of Shankar, and begins to explain why he has called)
Shankar: (after several seconds of confused silence) There seems to have been some terrible confusion, young man. I’m happily married, and my wife is right next to me, bless her long healthy life — so you’re saying, you’re looking for a groom? For your mother? That’s mighty brave of you. What is your name, again? (they continue to talk warmly, the caller apologising for the unintended chaos)
Kritika: (back to the living room) What on earth?
Savitri: (quite confused, but smiling) I have no idea, child, let’s wait for your father to finish speaking to this funny person. I want to know how they got his number in the first place.
Shankar: (grinning widely) I’m still hot on the market, see, Kritika? What do you say, Savitri? Should I say yes to this hapless woman? Wow, I’m so young!
Savitri: (deadpan) Over my dead body, sure.
Kritika: Who was that on the phone, appa? And how did they get your contact?
Savitri: (sarcastically) I’m sure Mr Young Shankar himself has put his matrimony profile somewhere without telling me. Come, now, where is it? I will also get some calls tomorrow, just wait and see —
Shankar: He said he got my number from Bharathi Samskruthi Matrimony… I wonder how…. I never put my name or — (suddenly aghast) AYYO! Kritika!! Switch on the desktop, NOW!
Savitri: What? Why are you panicking? What happened!?
The computer groans from sleep mode to life.
Shankar: (amidst peals of laughter) See, this is why we oldies should not venture too deep into the internet. (begins to load the matrimony webpage, logs in)
Savitri: (lips moving silently, eyes flashing in anger as she reads the details under ‘You are registered for GROOM’ — Tiruvembadi Krishnamachari Shankaranarayanan, DOB 2nd May 1958, B.Com 1986, ICWA 1991… followed by a green checkmark next to ‘I consent to be approached by registered members for a match, and promise not to discriminate on the basis of colour, caste, financial background.”)
Kritika: (Pinches Shankar) Congratulations dad. When is the happy day? Who’s the lucky old bride? I’m assuming I’m invited. I can’t wait to attend your marriage since neither Amma nor you invited me to your first one in 1990 —
(Shankar bursts into laughter, and mimes some wedding rituals in thin air)
Savitri: Shoo, Kritika. So Shankar, this is what you were upto yesterday when you said you were registering Kritika on a matrimony website??? Good Lord what will I do with this man…
Kritika: Aaaah. Appa, I never said you have to do this alone, we could have sat over the weekend and gone through this together. Could have gotten it done faster and definitely with the right info! (laughs)
Shankar: (still laughing, now wiping his tears) Child, I did not know if you wanted to. I wanted to make it easy for you -
Kritika: (softly) Haven’t you always, Appa? And what did I do in return? Made your lives difficult —
Savitri: NOW, NOW — No more wasting time with useless discussions. Kritika, no point in going back to sleep. Get ready and get moving. I’m leaving now.
Shankar: So we’ll do this together on Sunday?
Kritika: Sure, appa. (her phone rings, plain old brrring brrring) Hello? Oh hey Vignesh, tell me. (makes a face at how early in the day it is for client calls, then switches to a fake concerned voice) Oh I see. Not a problem at all, we can always meet on Monday, same JW Marriott. Family first. (voice on other side is apologetic, and oddly familar. Kritika smiles) No, no I insist, Vignesh. I’ll wrap up the due diligence from our side so that you guys can have a look at the draft once you’re back. (Vignesh thanks her, and asks if she wants any goodies from his trip. Kritika laughs, taken aback). My good sir! If you insist, a small packet of jackfruit papad will do. My father loves them. (laughter on phone too) Alright, bye now, take care.
Shankar: (curious) Who was that?
Kritika: My client, appa. We’re doing some financial due diligence for one of their proposed mergers.
Shankar: Malayali? You mentioned jackfruit —
Kritika: No, no, Kannadiga from the Malenadu side.
Shankar: (pauses, calculates, looks stunned) He doesn’t happen to be from Sringeri, does he?! You said his name was Vignesh.
Kritika: (happily) Well, how did you guess that? Oh WAIT — your mystery caller — goddammit — of all the —
(Runs to Shankar’s phone and sees the last incoming number. Comes running back, swearing profusely) IT’S THE SAME VIGNESH! IT’S THE SAME VIGNESH!!
Shankar: (politely, but eyes glinting with pride) Do not do that in front of your mother. She still thinks the worst swearword you know is ‘idiot’.
Kritika: Wow, that guy. Groomhunting for his MOM! Amazeballs -
Shankar: (shrewdly) Is he married, himself?
Kritika: How am I supposed to know that, pa? He’s my client, and the most non-work thing we have ever spoken about is me impulsively pointing out his wonky tie, then avoiding him the rest of the meeting out of embarrassment, then him misunderstanding that I asked him out for coffee when all I said was “copy”. Now we can’t ever make eye contact.
Shankar: (in a singsong kindergarten voice) I smell sparks, I smell fire. This thing only goes higher and higher…
Kritika: (blushes) Stop it, pa. He’s engaged already. His fiancée works in the same company, in market research.
Shankar: Awwww my sweet girl, look how your cheeks redden. I can’t wait to see you glowing in a bride’s attire!
Kritika: Soon, appa, soon. All in due course. (starts bustling around, gathering clothes and makeup for the day) Do you want me to drop you somewhere on my way? You were saying something about seeing someone in person -
Shankar: No, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to see him. It’s ok. We will redo the matrimonial profile ourselves. (smiles) Get ready soon, else you’ll get stuck at that railway crossing.
Kritika nods, and disappears into the house’s single bathroom. Shankar settles down to watch TV. Karuppa jumps up onto the sofa beside him and rests his head on Shankar’s lap.
End of Act 1, Scene 3
