I was about thirty then. Her name was Sonali. So I end up at her family home, having tried to duck my mother. And when I arrive she is changing they say. So I end up in this room full of Tamil Sri Lankans all staring at me. Now the more astute of you will have already worked out the ending. So is it a family gathering then or something, a festival. Blank looks. Anyway. The aggressive aunt comes in and starts to chat. And in other circumstances I think I might have loved this one. Conversation turns to marriage as it does. And I had said well I'd probably want to live with the gel first for a few years to... And she responds with how immoral I am. So I think the conversation never really recovered from it's stall. Not really knowing how to insult a Tamil Sri Lankan I merely inquired. So are you people like Pakistanis then. You invite me here you insult me interrogate me and I am not even offered so much as dry roasted peanut and a glass of water. Oh are you dashing off to get a dry roasted peanut and some water don't bother. At which a kerfuffle starts and I still have not worked things out.
They have rushed conversation in tamil but assure me they are not talking about me, they were saying they could warm up some food but the rice isn't done. So I chip in if you can't cook rice I'll do it for you love. No I don't understand Tamil but you can work out stuff if you know a few words not sure of the details. So half an hour later maybe after some brooding I think Sonali might have appeared and said not to worry about her aunt she is just rude and mad. I get a plate I eat. The aunt may now be trying to be nice but she said are you enjoying the meal which I took to be an attack on my person so I shoved the plate on her lap and said you eat it then I am orf.
By now my mother and Rick's wife had arrived and were in another room. I saw them and said no they are all strange and mad here don't worry I've eaten see you at home. If you like them you stay. T'was on the way out when Sonali does come down the stairs that things begin to click. She wore a Sari, don't really recall the details I doubt it was as revealing as her western garb but she was henna'ed up and covered in gold. It's a standard bewitching technique that activates the ancestral spirit. I am a rabbit in the headlights. But we get out we talk. I saw a cab and hailed. Get in I said, if you think about it you won't do it. There is a moment when lives can change. What's going on Cabbie says. I think I am asking this young woman to elope. Oh get in he chants. But it's her choice and the moment slips away. We had a minder, nice chappie cousin probably kept his distance so as not to overhear but he could intervene if necessary.
So why didn't you tell me girl. I thought you knew.
I could go on. But basically we never really recovered from that day. Women can be odd. If you humiliate them at their bride showing or jilt them on their wedding day they never really forgive you no matter what they say.
My mother claimed that she just wanted the families to meet for the first time in an informal setting where presumably they could talk numbers. Oh so it's basically a fancy dress party and Sonali is the only one in fancy dress. How can you arrange a bride showing and not inform the groom.
I know my life would have been different but it is the only time I never brought the matter up again with my mother about her interference. I say usually it's because I could easily have messed things up on my own. But I believe now it was because there was an old magick operating on that night and we had a choice when the black cab came and if she had done the whole western folly thing she wouldn't then have had to return to her room in five minutes with the parting shot show's over.
And though they would have given me only ten seconds to decide of course I would have said yes because a bride at a bride showing has ancestral beauty. But I would never have made another free decision again and I doubt she would have let me go on a Vipassana retreat for ten days, probably be put in charge of the chickens or something.
Oh I mention this because the TVU matter has come to burst boil stage all the puss has oozed now over to you the roving reporter and I have lost all desire in the matter. And a couple of the nuns wanted to send me photos of a 42 yr old unmarried MBA BEd prayerful teacher, what and I have only a BA. But the thing with photographs it's not like looking at holiday snaps. Before you know it you are at a bride showing and someone ends up getting very hurt. Liaise with Fr Jose I said he is doing the match making for me. (That is unless I am left to my own devices and meet someone who talks to me at a social gathering, therefore do not leave me unto my own devices O Lord we pray).
But at least the Vipassana meditational vibrations are kicking in or something, which makes sense for the past few days I have found meditation to be virtually impossible though I have managed to sit still for most of the hour.
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