At what cost?
“Bhai, which bottle should I buy for Papa this time? I am super confused. Suggest some whiskey that he hasn’t tried yet. Also, have I already told you how much I love duty-free?” asks Kritika from her elder brother, Kabir, whom she is on a call with.
“He loves his Glenlivet, Dolly, so just buy it. And please don’t go crazy at the duty-free, buying stuff that you do not need. Also, dad is coming to pick you up, right? He toh won’t say a word to you kyunki laadli jo hai tu unki (because you’re his princess),” says Kabir laughing, but also subtly taunting his younger sister who has always been pampered by all.
“I smell something burning, Bhai. Haha, Koi na!! Mom chooses you over me too, so we’re even…Okay, I need to rush to the boarding gate now. I’m hanging up. No…wait wait wait!! Tell me something, it’s all going to be fine, right? I’m super scared, Bhai. Can’t even tell you how much.”
“Yes, yes, it’ll be fine. We’ll figure something out, bro. Don’t overthink right now. Have a safe flight and text me when you land. Byee!!”
While reading the book Outliers and sipping her coffee, Kritika kept fidgeting- randomly turning the pages of the book, thinking and blushing, smiling to her own self. She looks outside the window, at the mesmerizing hue of colors in the sky, those of the setting sun, and the dense white clouds that leave her awestruck, when for the nth time she starts recalling how Aamir had proposed to her.
He had come to pick her up on a Sunday morning and kept honking outside her house. After a few calls and honks when she didn’t turn up, he finally went inside and literally carried Kritika in his arms and put her in the passenger seat.
Half-asleep, surprised yet happy at the romantic gesture, she asked, “Where the hell are we going at this hour, Aamir? And look what I’m wearing, my ugly shorts and your hoodie. I cannot go out like this! Tell me where are you taking me?”
“You look perfect, babe, like always. Please be patient. We’re just going for the Sunday brunch that you’ve been craving for,” he said, while gently kissing her on the forehead.
Excitedly, Kritika got out of the car and invariably started walking towards her favorite spot near the shacks at the Sentosa Beach. Aamir was well aware of how much she loved the beach, the sound of water, the setting sun. He started following the love of his life, but then she suddenly stopped and turned around.
“Oh my God, Aamir, what is all this? Please tell me you didn’t do this.” Kritika couldn’t believe her eyes. Coral curtains, cute little wooden chairs and a table, orchids and lilies, a bottle of champagne, and the smell of her favorite Italian food and Sushi. Her eyes lit up and her smile screamed how happy she was feeling. Aamir pulled the chair for her, waited for her to take the seat, took out the ring from his pocket, and went down on his left knee.
“Kritika, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the most beautiful person inside-out. Since the day I first saw you at that Indian store, struggling for haldi (turmeric), daalchini (cinnamon), and laung (clove) to make your mom’s magical kadha (homemade cough-syrup) till this very moment, you’ve just been growing on me. Everyday with you has been adventurous, fulfilling, and sometimes mundane yet so comforting and wholesome. I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you so much. I am fully aware of what your family thinks. I know it’s not going to be easy for you or me. But I really want to take the leap of faith for you and with you. We’ll take care of everything together. Please trust me. Will you marry me?”
And just then the captain announces that the flight is prepared for landing. Kritika is not just happy but overwhelmed about saying yes to Aamir. She is head over heels in love with him and feels like the luckiest girl in the world. But she is scared too, scared of how her parents would react. She starts getting terrified with that thought and can practically hear her father saying —
“Couldn’t you find any other guy than a Muslim? Musalman log humse bohot alag hai, Dolly. Vo sirf apni kaum walon ke hi hote hai, aur kisi ke nahi.(Muslims are very different from us and are only faithful towards their own community).”
The flight hits ground zero and Kritika feels an even stronger hit. After collecting her luggage, she walks towards the exit, excited but also lost in her own thoughts, only to see her father eagerly waiting for her, gazing at the gate. She starts walking faster, almost running towards him. She touches his feet and then hugs him.
“God bless you, beta! Hope your flight was comfortable. And why have you lost so much weight? You came home after 6 months but it feels like forever. I’m so happy you made it on time for Diwali,” says her father, Mr. Sanjay Mehra, with immense joy in his eyes.
On their way home, Kritika keeps peeping outside the window, thinking to herself how much the city has changed. Their conversation starts from discussing the family business, the well-being of the extended family, and eventually moves onto discussing the current affairs of the country.
“How are things in Ahmedabad, dad, with regard to the CAA and NRC?. I’ve been seeing some very disturbing news.”
“It’s all a hue and cry for few days, Dolly, and then it’ll settle. Ahmedabad mein kya hona hai (What will happen in Ahmedabad)! The government is doing the right thing. Ab sabko toh khush nahi kar sakte na (You can’t make everyone happy, right)? They have also thought it through. All these student protests and unrest are clearly the gimmicks of the opposition parties. Sab hojaega khatam jab police sahi se dande maregi (Everything will settle down once the police starts beating them nicely).”
“Hmm..!”
Kritika was taken aback by the way her father responded. They have engaged in such conversations in the past, but this time it was different. After having lived in Singapore for a couple of years, she wasn’t used to such an extreme point of view. But since she had just come home and wasn’t in the mood to start any political discussion, she decided to just let it go.
Everyone was extremely happy with the presence of the princess of the house. While they were having dinner at the dining table, her grandmother asks, “Dolly, have you stopped eating in Singapore? Or your cook doesn’t cook well? Also, how often do you visit the Indian temple?”
“Khana toh theek hi banata hai (He cooks decent food). And, no Dadi, I haven’t gotten a chance to visit the temple as it’s a little far from my office and home. But I did go to a dargah (mosque) a few weeks back. It is very close to where I live and I keep crossing it but had never gotten a chance to go inside, until I finally did. It’s very beautiful, you know,” says Kritika very innocently.
Surprised and a bit angry at what she just heard, her Dadi exclaimed, “Why would you go to a mosque? We’ve had this discussion before but you don’t seem to understand. It’s not our place of worship, Kritika. We don’t ask you to follow all the Hindu traditions but whatever little we expect, is that really too much? Can’t you do it for our happiness? Only God knows what this current generation thinks.”
Everyone seemed rather upset with what just happened and Kritika couldn’t fathom it. Because of her upbringing in a conservative Hindu Marwari family, she had also grown up to believe that other communities, especially the Muslims, are not just different but also not the nicest of people, which is why she often second-guessed committing herself to Aamir. She had to unlearn it all for the better. But at this moment, being silent seemed like a better choice. She knew now is not the time.
After settling down and relaxing for a bit, she was still feeling eerie in her stomach the entire time. Having failed at her multiple attempts at sleeping, she got up and went to her father’s study.
Kritika sat down on the floor and looked at her father in the eye. “I need to speak with you, dad. But promise me you’ll first listen to me patiently and not get to any conclusions right away.”
“Yes I will, Dolly. Go ahead!” He kept his book aside, lit his cigar, and waited for her to speak.
After taking a deep breath, Kritika started speaking.
“There’s this guy I met in college. He was my senior and is currently working with one of the best consulting firms in Singapore itself. We’ve been dating for the last two years, dad, and recently he proposed to me. I love him, dad!” She could already sense her father losing interest and getting impatient.
He intervenes, “What’s his name Kritika, and where is he from? What is his family like? You haven’t talked about that yet.”
“His name is Aamir, dad, Aamir Raza.” She takes a pause and continues. “His family stays in Mumbai and owns a construction business. His younger brother is studying in NUS. I have met his parents a couple of times, and they are really nice people.”
She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was getting furious. Taking bigger drags of his cigar, he looks at his daughter with a sense of disappointment, waiting for her to finish.
“So, is this why I sent you to Singapore? This is what you made out of your liberal education and global exposure. We haven’t stopped you from anything but now you’ve pushed it too far Kritika. Too far!” He paused and then continued again. “You’re saying you fell in love with a Muslim guy? Have you gone absolutely crazy? They are not our people Kritika. A Muslim guy might look handsome, calm and composed and might come across as really nice but the reality is not as rosy. They are actually very violent and they only care about their own religion and well-being.”
“Who said so, Papa? Who said all of this? This is exactly what I’ve grown up listening and believing but then later understood how baseless such arguments are. I agree there have been instances that nudged you into thinking all this but not all of them are like the way you think. And about caring for their own religion, so do we Paa!! Aamir takes such good care of me and so does his family. You can not paint an entire community with the same color. There are nicer people, who are just like us, their families and lifestyles just like ours.”
“This is all bullshit. Don’t know what you’ve been thinking? Do you think you know more than us? I have met more Muslims in my life than you can think of, and if you think I don’t know them well, then you are absolutely wrong. I understand them by their nerves, their actions, and their intentions, and therefore I know what I’m saying. I’m sure he impressed you with his words, and his gifts, and his wisdom right now and that’s what they have been doing all these years. That’s what Love Jihaad is Kritika. Woo innocent, beautiful Hindu girls, marry them and then convert them to Islam. They are a minority in this country and they have come up with so many ways to increase their population. Kal se tumse shadi aur bachche karke koi aur wife bhi le aya toh kya karogi (What will you do if he gets another woman after marrying you and having kids with you)? Trust me, that day is not far when all of us will live in fear under our own roofs and they will kill us. And you want to be a part of this? You want me to just sit here and watch you sacrifice your life and get oppressed by them?”
“What?! This doesn’t make any sense, dad! I can’t believe this is how you think. You thought I’m so naïve that I will fall prey to such tricks? I really love him. Love Jihaad is just propaganda made by those nincompoop extremists. Let’s please not buy any of it. And he also loves me a lot and I know for a fact that he will not marry anyone else. I know what I’m doing here Paa and I’ve never been so sure as I am right now. And one second, if the Islamic community has done something wrong, so has ours. Why don’t you ever see that? We have talked about this in the past and I gave you so many examples of Muslims who are nothing like you just mentioned. And it’s not like all Hindu marriages work. There are cases in our own family where things went downhill. Tab kya hua same caste mein shaadi karne ka (How did, then, getting married in the same caste help)? You can’t always be right, dad, and this time you aren’t for sure. Aamir is not like that, and he has no intention of converting my religion and neither does his family. Please believe me and meet him once.”
Mr. Sanjay stands up and screams at his daughter, “I’m not meeting him ever, and if you meet him again then our relationship is over, Kritika. You have embarrassed me and upset me so much today. I was so proud of you and the woman you grew up to be. Your mom was right. If you let girls study too much and become independent, they don’t listen and don’t understand what their parents say. Bloody fellows, they live in India and are the safest in this country par Pakistan ka flag lagate hain, Pakistani cricket team ko support karte hain (They hoist Pakistani flags and support Pakistani cricket team). They don’t care, Kritika, they just care about Islam and how they can establish their fear and rule by the means of terrorism.”
He was furious at the moment but for the love of his daughter, he lowers his volume and continues, “I’m telling you once again that they are not nice people, Kritika. You are screwing up with your own life here and I won’t let this happen. They’ll change you completely and his parents will not accept you willingly, I can guarantee this in writing. And your kids, they will also become like that and you won’t be able to do anything. You never know, they might grow up to be terrorists.”
“Oh my God !! Kaisi bakwas baatien kar rahe ho aap (What nonsense are you talking about)? I don’t understand how you guys don’t see anything and just stick to your orthodox mentality. Let me show you something and clear this confusion for you. It’s not the Pakistani flag that they put up in their localities but the Islamic flag. It looks the same but it is actually not. But we never really try and find the right information, we just assume. And that’s the first thing which is wrong in the current political discourse — misinformation and fake news. They are made in a certain way aimed at mobilizing people without letting them apply their own rationale. Please, for once, step out of the bubble that these politicians have created in your head and then hear yourself. Times have changed dad, no one gives a damn about which religion or caste people are from. I have met his parents and they are nothing like you just said. They’d be so happy to have someone like me in their family. Aur kya terrorist?? Ufff !! They are not terrorists, dad. Not all Muslims are terrorists. Like how not all Hindus are non-violent. Extremists have no religion. Please listen to me. Please just meet him once,” Kritika pleads and begs.
“I must say they have done their job well — Aamir and his family. And you are the one rebelling against your own father. Why don’t you see what’s happening around the world? In the name of Islam and justice, they are mercilessly killing people. They are increasing in number every single day, no wonder the Indian government barred them from CAB. That day isn’t far when we’ll be living on the streets and they will rule, and you will see it for yourself and on that day you’ll think of me, that your father was damn right.” He continues and dissent shows in his eyes.
“I don’t blame you Kritika, you are innocent. It’s them!” And to this, Mr. Mehra gets up, feeling disheartened and embarrassed at his daughter and walks out of the room.
The father-daughter duo who was the closest in the family stops talking after that night. Kritika leaves home without going for a dinner date and playing a game of squash with her dad, which were the rituals during her stay at home. She felt incomplete and had the most difficult flight back to Singapore. But after all, she is her father’s daughter and gets her stubbornness from him.
After 2 years:
“What do you think about, Rishabh? His mom called me again and was asking when you’re coming home next. He is a really nice guy, Dolly, highly educated and doing very well for himself. Why don’t you just call him once?” says Mrs. Nisha trying to convince her daughter over the phone call.
“I can’t Maa, stooopppp!!! I’ve seen so many photos and even spoke to a few guys just because you are behind my life. Aap log samajh hi nahi rahe ho ki main nahi karungi Aamir ke alawa kisi aur se shadi (You guys aren’t ready to understand that I won’t marry anyone else but Aamir). I didn’t marry him all this time because dad wasn’t convinced, and I respect you guys and wanted you to be happy at my wedding but that doesn’t mean I’ll settle for any Tom, Dick, or Harry. I’m hanging up, Maa. I can’t do this right now!”
“Tujhe meri kasam hai, just come home for Diwali this time. I know your dad hasn’t spoken to you, but he misses you a lot, Dolly. I keep telling him to speak to you, but both of you are so adamant. Na hi woh sunte hai, na tu, aur ab main thak gayi hun (Neither of you listens, and now I’m sick and tired). You couldn’t stay for two days without talking to your father and it’s been two years now. Aren’t you concerned that you’re fighting with your dad for a boy?”
“Yaar woh humesha hi ade rahenge kya apni idelogies par? Unhe bura nahi lag raha apni beti se bina baat kare rehne mein? Itna bhi kya hai? Aur unka kya bigada hai koi Muslim ne (Is he always going to stay stuck like this with his ideologies? He doesn’t miss me or what? And what has any Muslim done to him personally anyway)?
“You have no idea, Maa. Not just dad, but my relationship with Aamir has also been majorly hampered and his relations with his family too. He has been waiting for so long and has sworn to marry just me and no one else. Aur yaad hai papa keh rahe the mere baad aur biwiyan le aega (Remember how Dad was saying he’ll marry more women after me)?! What other proof do you guys want? So, trust me, many relations are at stake right now. And why, because of you guys and your hyper-religiousity, your anti-Muslim beliefs. Ek baar mil toh lo usse! Papa apne Hindutva ke chakkar mein apni beti ko kuwaran hi rehne denge kya (Will Dad let his daughter stay single all her life for the sake of his Hindutva)? Why is he doing this? And, at what cost? Samjhao unko aap (Please make him understand).”
Kritika is boiling at this moment and is just about to hang up when her father comes on the line and says, “Hello beta, I heard your conversation with your mother and all I want to say is, it’s been two years since I spoke to you and saw you. I know you won’t budge very easily but come home for Diwali this time, we all need you here. Kabir bhi aa raha hai (Kabir is also coming).” He pauses, takes a deep breath while feeling the tension between him and his daughter. He suddenly feels very shallow about being so stubborn all this while and says, “Also, do ask Aamir if he would like to join us for Diwali this time.”
About the story:
Most people like you and I grow up believing and aligning with a certain sociopolitical ideology as we have been told and taught so by our parents, family, friends, or at school. But then we age and life changes. Hardly ever do we really take a pause, reflect back, and think, “what is it that I as an individual stand for?” And if at all we do, what if those views are totally different from what our parents or partners believe in? Should we still try and agree with their views or just stick to ours? What if they think you are stupid, naive, or just ill-informed? What if you think so about them? We keep asking such questions to our own selves, struggling, and second-guessing everything that we stand for, perhaps because we are constantly looking for validation. Do we argue with the people we are closest to? For these differences in opinions, do you really give up on your personal relationships? Is the tension worth it? Can it be solved, and if yes, then how? Can we talk these out?
This is a story of Mr. Sanjay Mehra and his daughter, Kritika, who share immense love and respect for each other. He has never stopped her from pursuing her dreams and be independent, just like he was. She also grows up to be confident and opinionated like her father, yet warm and graceful. Mr. Sanjay is certain that Kritika has imbibed the “right” values and beliefs and will always do what is “right” in the eyes of her parents, until one day when she doesn’t, and then everything changes.
About the Author:
Gouri is a Management student and an ex-consultant. Her quest for exploring and learning amidst the most diverse and liberal minds brings her to Young India Fellowship. She likes to take life as it comes, and has deep faith in her instincts. She is a trained Kathak dancer and also loves baking and painting.
