When I used to be live in Pune, my roomie and I used to have our dinner at a small canteen run by a Gujarati family. I'd already lived with Gujju folks for a number of years so I've picked up a fair share of their language along the way. This was the first time my roommate had left his hometown in Madhya Pradesh, and barely spoke in any Indian language other than Hindi. So whenever we used to go there he used to ask me to translate bits of Gujrati from the people who ran the canteen. Mostly cause he fancied the owner's daughter. She was still in college, and spent some nights every week helping her elder brother in managing the place and her mother in her cooking. We usually saw her handing out the plates and cups during those nights. And my thirsty creep of a roommate used to give her the eye and made every excuse to get close to her, even though she was like five years younger to him and wasn't the least bit interested.
When has that ever made any difference to guys.
Anyways. It had been nearly three months of me coming to eat at that place. As was usual for me, I'd made a decent rapport with the regulars there and the people who ran it. My roommate's work timings changed so he'd stopped coming to the canteen. I had gotten into a routine of this place so I guess I stuck with it just for familiarity's sake.
One day while I was leaving the hotel after my meal, the elder brother stopped me near the exit. He was running the place that night in his father's absence. He told me that the canteen would be closed for the next three weeks or so. Apparently, the whole family was going over to their hometown in Gujarat. The daughter was to be married by the month's end. The same daughter who was just a sophomore in college was getting married in a couple of weeks. I'd just barely gotten my act together, and kids around me are already getting hitched. Some folks, are in too much of a hurry these days.
I congratulate him on the happy news and ask about the wedding. The brother informed me that the wedding would be in their own ancestral home and that the groom owned a garment store in their hometown. Thinking back now I should have just stopped there. But nah, I just had to ask the next random question that propped up in my head.
"What about her college?"
To which the brother replied, "Nah she is a girl, her place is now in her husband's home."
Then I ask, "Okay, so she would be able to complete her degree from a college close your hometown?"
He said, "I don't even think there are any colleges in our hometown where you'll find a lot of girls studying."
"So you're saying she will not study further and just be a housewife now?"
"I guess."
That was where I felt that weird pang. You see, I am the sort of guy that expects people to be naturally good at heart. And this was his younger sister after all. But the by the nonchalant way he'd submit his only sister to a life of mediocre alerted some sort of radar in me. I piqued up and dug in with more questions. Why didn't I just leave!
I looked past all the tables and chair where people were having their meal, over to the little door at the end of the hall. There was a lady sitting just within that door on the floor making chapatis. She wore a heavy saree and had the hem of it over her head covering it. you could hardly see any of her face. This wasn't anything rare. In many of the North Indian cultures, the women-folk hide their faces with a veil of some sort. But now, I actually noticed it on this woman. Then I looked over to the counter where they hand out the steel plates, spoons and such. There sat the soon to be married daughter, reading a magazine that was spread open on her lap. She was wearing a tight white top, and faded jeans. She wore a bit of makeup by the looks of it. Truthfully, she was really rather good looking, in a nubile college girl sort of way. I tried to make myself imagine a future for her in the form of her mother present. It seemed too drastic a change from her life right now. And by what her brother was saying this future would be exactly what is in store for her.
The brother was looking at me carefully while I was looking towards his mother and sister. I turned back to him and asked, "You should at least have waited till she completes her education."
He straightens up at that, and replies haughtily, "What is the point of her going through college when all she was going to do when she is getting married was taking care of her husband. That is her place."
I had never yet met anyone of his kind. I have always been around people who had more liberal sensibilities like mine. This measure of orthodoxy was new to me.
"So what was the point of sending her to college at all?"
"She would have only gotten better grooms if she was well-educated."
More like half-educated.
"Is the groom well-educated then?"
"He has passed 10th grade, I think. But that is normal where we come from. Most women in our hometown are more educated that their men. My mother was a state topper in her BA college."
I looked over to the woman sitting on the dirty kitchen floor, covered from head to toe, sweating by the heat of the stove cooking chapatis.
"That woman there? She is a gold medalist? She has a degree in Bachelor of Arts?"
"Yes, in english."
I went silent at that and looked over to her again. I had never really thought of her in all the time I'd been coming to this place. Her making chapatis was constant sight whenever I came to eat here. I'd seen her sitting there on the floor so often now, she'd almost become invisible to me. Like the many furniture here.
I looked over to the daughter again. She was lazily turning the pages of her magazine now. She really was good looking, and seemed to be a smart girl. But then I guess so was her mother. She was smart enough to be the top student in college. Now though, she is married to a guy who runs a small daily-meals hotel in a small street corner of Pune. She didn't exactly make it big in life. By the looks of it, neither will her daughter.
I looked back to the brother, he was now busy counting the wads money in his father's till. I found that to be very repulsive for some reason. Suddenly, the whole canteen seemed like a vile place.
I looked over to the unfortunate women. Sometimes you empathize with somebody so much that you begin to feel the pain that they themselves had long forgotten or had grown blind to.
Walking away from the hotel and into the street, I soon realized this was the last time I'd ever step foot in that place.
When has that ever made any difference to guys.
Anyways. It had been nearly three months of me coming to eat at that place. As was usual for me, I'd made a decent rapport with the regulars there and the people who ran it. My roommate's work timings changed so he'd stopped coming to the canteen. I had gotten into a routine of this place so I guess I stuck with it just for familiarity's sake.
One day while I was leaving the hotel after my meal, the elder brother stopped me near the exit. He was running the place that night in his father's absence. He told me that the canteen would be closed for the next three weeks or so. Apparently, the whole family was going over to their hometown in Gujarat. The daughter was to be married by the month's end. The same daughter who was just a sophomore in college was getting married in a couple of weeks. I'd just barely gotten my act together, and kids around me are already getting hitched. Some folks, are in too much of a hurry these days.
I congratulate him on the happy news and ask about the wedding. The brother informed me that the wedding would be in their own ancestral home and that the groom owned a garment store in their hometown. Thinking back now I should have just stopped there. But nah, I just had to ask the next random question that propped up in my head.
"What about her college?"
To which the brother replied, "Nah she is a girl, her place is now in her husband's home."
Then I ask, "Okay, so she would be able to complete her degree from a college close your hometown?"
He said, "I don't even think there are any colleges in our hometown where you'll find a lot of girls studying."
"So you're saying she will not study further and just be a housewife now?"
"I guess."
That was where I felt that weird pang. You see, I am the sort of guy that expects people to be naturally good at heart. And this was his younger sister after all. But the by the nonchalant way he'd submit his only sister to a life of mediocre alerted some sort of radar in me. I piqued up and dug in with more questions. Why didn't I just leave!
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| © K.L.Kamat/Kamat's Potpourri |
The brother was looking at me carefully while I was looking towards his mother and sister. I turned back to him and asked, "You should at least have waited till she completes her education."
He straightens up at that, and replies haughtily, "What is the point of her going through college when all she was going to do when she is getting married was taking care of her husband. That is her place."
I had never yet met anyone of his kind. I have always been around people who had more liberal sensibilities like mine. This measure of orthodoxy was new to me.
"So what was the point of sending her to college at all?"
"She would have only gotten better grooms if she was well-educated."
More like half-educated.
"Is the groom well-educated then?"
"He has passed 10th grade, I think. But that is normal where we come from. Most women in our hometown are more educated that their men. My mother was a state topper in her BA college."
I looked over to the woman sitting on the dirty kitchen floor, covered from head to toe, sweating by the heat of the stove cooking chapatis.
"That woman there? She is a gold medalist? She has a degree in Bachelor of Arts?"
"Yes, in english."
I went silent at that and looked over to her again. I had never really thought of her in all the time I'd been coming to this place. Her making chapatis was constant sight whenever I came to eat here. I'd seen her sitting there on the floor so often now, she'd almost become invisible to me. Like the many furniture here.
I looked over to the daughter again. She was lazily turning the pages of her magazine now. She really was good looking, and seemed to be a smart girl. But then I guess so was her mother. She was smart enough to be the top student in college. Now though, she is married to a guy who runs a small daily-meals hotel in a small street corner of Pune. She didn't exactly make it big in life. By the looks of it, neither will her daughter.
I looked back to the brother, he was now busy counting the wads money in his father's till. I found that to be very repulsive for some reason. Suddenly, the whole canteen seemed like a vile place.
I looked over to the unfortunate women. Sometimes you empathize with somebody so much that you begin to feel the pain that they themselves had long forgotten or had grown blind to.
Walking away from the hotel and into the street, I soon realized this was the last time I'd ever step foot in that place.
