Shimla Stories

 Marriage - A Shimla boy marrying a Shimla girl.

This is my story and I am the Shimla boy marrying a Shimla girl who has not yet been identified. In Shimla, in the good old days, everything happened by word of mouth. The era of shadi.com or matrimony.com was about 35 years hence. The ultra conservative Sud/Sood community, mostly looks within the community to find a match. My mother back in Shimla was in an overdrive to find a match for me. My parents had moved back from Shimla to the warmer climate of our village in Kangra district after a lifetime of business in Shimla. They had less contact with the next generation, so my mother made frequent trips back to Shimla to find a decent girl for me. My sister in Shimla often wrote about her arrival and departure, but never threw a hint about the purpose. My mother’s main requirement for the girl was ‘pretty, highly qualified (matching mine) and if possible qualified in the kitchen also’. On her third trip, someone mentioned that a girl corresponding to this description is within reach. She was actually the daughter of the people whom my parents knew well, but because she was studying in another city, had missed the earlier search. Her parents were contacted and my mother with per parents in tow dashed off to the city where she was a student. Inspection done and my mother broke the news to me by a letter written in her own handwriting. If I remember correctly, the letter read that the girl is a Ph.D student, very bright & pretty and she speaks our native language. Everything was kept secret at the request of the girls' parents and everybody awaited my return to India, which was going to be soon. My parents were worried that I may have already married an American girl, hence next few letters were simply asking that. I've said so many times, no. 

My return day was nearing, all preparations for the boy meet the girl were afoot. My entire family, about 20 altogether, was at the airport. They were all watching closely if a white girl came down the “ramp” in front of me or behind me. American girls do not walk behind their husbands or boyfriends, they walk ahead of them. They saw none. Reassured they mobbed to greet me. My father who was standing at a distance was watching all that hugging and embracing in progress. When I approached him to get his blessings, he said a few pleasantries and then in commanding voice said... “your deluxe bus ticket to Shimla is booked for the day after tomorrow..... the girl’s family is eagerly awaiting you. Go immediately”. All the directions given we went from the airport to my older brother's house, an hour's drive. He was posted as magistrate there. I needed a bit of rest and so did my rest of the family. 

As instructed, I packed some of bags, a new American suit and a colorful necktie and got my hair dressed for the upcoming boy meet the girl event. I boarded the bus to Shimla in the morning. At 4.00pm, I arrived at the Shimla old bus stand. I suddenly became aware that I am being watched. There were eyes watching every movement I made. Unconcerned, I went to my sister’s house and within the hour, my would be father-in-law dropped in unannounced. He came to check on me. I never knew him before and he must have seen me for the first time. He was a highly qualified man, a graduate of DAV College, Jalandhar. He spoke in perfect English and I spoke back in perfect Kangri. He did not identify himself, but my sister was signalling me from behind the door to behave and talk to him nicely. He left ten minutes later and then three young sisters of the girl, I was going to marry, came to confirm the arrangements for tomorrow's boy to meet the girl event. As I know every inch of the Mall, it was not difficult to fix the place for a leisurely walk on the Mall with her sisters in tow. That at that time was customary (They do not send unmarried girls with strangers alone).

That moment arrived at 4.00pm at the Mall. It was not hard for her sisters to spot me and I recognized the girls who had visited me yesterday. The girl I would marry was shy and walked a little behind the other sisters and looked at me obliquely. I got closer, but sisters stepped in. She never spoke a word until the monkeys on the Mall intervened. The girls began to run here and there. But I bravely came in the middle. The monkeys left after setting their own score, but to me the ice was broken. All the sisters were watching me and her, exchange just a word or two. Now she knew I was not deaf or dumb and I began to thank the monkeys for breaking the ice. We had tea in a restaurant at the Mall, all the time eyeing each other. She corrected me on Chandigarh University environment which I had left six years earlier. An hour later, their dad joined in and asked the girls to go home, which they did. He asked me when was I going to the village where my parents were waiting with impatience. The final yes or no is stamped by them. In traditional arranged marriages, it is the families which shake hands first. The boy and girls garland each other, later.

I returned to my sister’s house thereafter, where she was eagerly waiting for me. Without saying a word, she told me that my face radiated joy, in other words, yes. I nodded in agreement. She asked her young son to telegraph to my parents immediately in the village of my approval. Later I was booked to go on a difficult hill journey of 12 hours in a bus to my village where my parents were waiting with a village feast and Puja for their son’s safe return back to India. No word of boy meets the girl was ever discussed in the public. First the parents shake hands, then the rest of the world knows about it. What I did not know that when I was still in US, my parents and her parents had exchanged mine and her horoscopes in order to match them. If these did not match, the matter is ended then and there. Most likely, they were a match. My father knew the Kareru Devi temple high priest. He matched and declared, all is well. He was the High Court in all matters of marriages, etc. in Shimla. If he says yes, then all is well.

Back in the village where Sud/Sood’s have built palatial mansions with money earned in Shimla and elsewhere, this matter of marriage was of utmost importance. Soon my father booked himself to go to Shimla and settle all arrangements for the engagement and let the rest of Sud/Sood brotherhood know. The engagement arrangements were done quickly, i.e. as soon as my rest of the family could be collected. This was to be followed by soon to be solemnized wedding. A few months later, I was married. Her Ph.D., (two years spent) was dumped in favor of computer studies.

This is the typical description of how a Shimla boy meets the Shimla girl in an arranged marriage in the fifties and sixties. Forty eight years have passed since our first meeting. Now, she is the boss at home and I am mister nobody. The point is that arranged marriages produce better results. She has a master's degree in computer science and has reached new heights in her career in Canada, which I have not been able to scale. We have two boys, both doctors. She is the best cook in the kitchen. Our two grandchildren are addicted to Pahari food and constantly remind us of their selection for next week's menu. 

Cheers...... 

(Reminiscing good old days is my past time. There are a few old timers probably have guessed my identity. There are one or two in Shimla who know me well)