24, an age that evokes an ‘Oh, you aren’t married yet?’ sympathetic response in all tambrahm households. In fact, this is also the favorite topic amongst the kanchipuram silk saree-clad maamis at ostentatious tambrahm weddings as well. I had the fortune to be at one a few months back, and needless to say, I had to come back home gasping for breath.
What was more shocking to most of these maamis was that the cousin who was getting married was a few months younger than me! Horrors of horrors…How could that happen? If not for the constant scratching I had to focus my attention to, thanks to the very itchy jute sari I was wearing, I would have gladly pounced at a few of these ladies. To add to the drama was an uncle of mine who accused me, “Girls can’t put too many demands like this. Good matches might just run out after a while” - and the so called ‘demand’ that I had put forth was that I didn’t want to go abroad; for the simple reason that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life making rotis on a dependant visa, and not being able to work.
This, of course prompted my dear mother to immediately make a trip to an astrologer. The dimly lit room was filled with pictures of several gods and a huge poster of Agastya muni. Agastya’s palm had a yellow triangle coming out of it and ending in a yellow circle. Was he trying to teach geometry? Or was he advocating family planning?
In any case, any funny retorts that I was itching to say out loud were silenced by one deadly look from the mother. As the astrologer took his time, writing out predictions on a book, my dad started playing a game of Solitaire on his Notebook. Another piercing look from mommy resulted in the quiet disappearance of the laptop into its original position.
I would cut my future husband up, pickle him, and probably eat him up too if I got married now. “Planet influence, what to do?’ he sighed dramatically again. He also casually mentioned that I could either get squashed under a bus or lose a limb if I was not careful. As I turned to look at my folks with mock-terror writ on my face, I could see actual-terror on theirs. I began rolling eyes and signaling towards the door, but no avail. Mom was fixated on his ’How to kill your daughter’ tips and could not be shaken.
Of course, they all came around after a few days, when he called us up to tell us that the Gods had ordered him to get basmati rice that weighed as old as I was (24 kilos), a golden thaali, and an astronomical figure as his guru dakshina – and as for me, I just look really carefully before I cross the roads. I don’t want to die under a rubber tyre, I would rather die in front of my own little garden, stroking my sleepy kitten, and reading a book... :)
