#192: Getting Married And Moving To Australia
My Life in 100 Objects - Part 10
Last week, I left off with the unexpected arrival of my parents at my lab, announcing their plan to whisk me away to another city where I was to meet the 'boy' who had flown in from Australia for a brief vacation to get married.
After enduring a five-hour bus journey, we arrived in a city whose name I hadn't even heard of. We checked into the only hotel we could find and contacted the 'boy's' family.
We were asked to come to Flamingo.
65. Flamingo
Flamingo was a wedding resort-cum-restaurant. The 'boy' arrived accompanied by his brother, and we settled into the back seats of the nearly empty restaurant. After exchanging initial pleasantries and sipping our tea, the 'boy' and I were left alone to get to know each other. We engaged in a flurry of questions, the details of which have since blurred in my memory, except for one remark he made that stuck with me: "You're very clever. You have asked me everything and haven’t told me much about yourself."
My parents and his brother rejoined us, and we agreed to get in touch by evening. All seemed well—there was an implied ‘yes’ from both sides. Later that evening, our fathers finalized matters over the phone, and they discussed the next step.
As I woke up the next morning, a wave of panic began to wash over me as the gravity of the situation dawned on me. I was expected to uproot my life, marry within a few weeks, and relocate to Australia as soon as my visa was granted. I realized I hadn’t broached the most crucial question with my prospective husband - did he envision a traditional homemaker or a career-oriented partner?
This was the 1980s, a time when societal norms dictated that women pursue education but not necessarily careers. However, I knew unequivocally that mere domestic responsibilities wouldn’t be sufficient for me. I craved intellectual stimulations and knew pretty well that without them I would feel hollow.
66. Roadside Tea-stall
I informed my father of my desire to have another conversation with the 'boy.' Without any hesitation, my father arranged for us to meet again. It was around ten in the morning, and none of the restaurants were open. We ended up at a roadside tea stall, which had only one table and two chairs. Sensing our need for privacy, the owner discreetly stepped out.
I struggled to find the right words to broach the subject. So I opted for a more indirect approach. In our previous meeting, the ‘boy’ had mentioned that eight college friends had migrated to Australia and they were all married. So I asked him what did their spouses do. The 'boy' seemed puzzled by the trivial nature of my question, but he answered me anyway telling me that one worked for the Australian Tax Office, the other at the Department of Social and yet another one at a bank. His response gave me the answer I was looking for. If his friends' wives were pursuing careers in Australia, then surely he wouldn't object to my aspirations. I reasoned that Australia was likely to offer more opportunities to me, in almost every field, than India would.
So I conceded my apprehension and resigned to my fate. Little did I realize, that I was embarking on a journey toward a life beyond my wildest dreams, in true Mills & Boom romance novel style.
67. Silk Sarees
To those who may recoil at the notion of arranged marriage, I offer this perspective: in Indian society, it's akin to marrying a high-school sweetheart in Western culture—a customary practice deeply ingrained in tradition. My parents meticulously researched every aspect of my would-be husband's family, including their reputation, and cultural and social standing.
My would-be husband, despite his professional qualifications (MBA from RMIT Australia) and five-year residency in Australia, opted for his parents to select his life partner. So did I. My parents would have readily agreed to anyone I had selected but I placed my trust in their judgment in this crucial decision. Because in India, marriages are viewed as a union between not just two individuals, but two families.
Our wedding date was set for two weeks following our initial meeting. Instead of returning to PGI (the institution where I was studying) or Amritsar (our hometown), we headed to Delhi for wedding shopping. Despite my 'would-be' husband's firm stance against dowry, my mother insisted on purchasing a trousseau for me. We stayed with relatives whose daughter was a high-court lawyer and well-connected. Under her guidance, we embarked on a day-long shopping excursion to Chandni Chowk, New Delhi’s shopping hub for wedding sarees. Amidst the bustling streets, we meticulously selected around twenty silk sarees—a collection that became my most cherished possessions for years to come.
68. Wedding Video
The wedding took place in my husband’s hometown, within the same resort where we initially met. It was a grand affair, complete with the bells and whistles. My husband made a grand entrance on horseback, while a skilled beautician meticulously prepared me for the occasion. Despite the short notice and distance, most of our relatives attended, adding to the joyous atmosphere.
My husband's brother arranged for a videographer—a novelty at the time—to document the entire event. The video was swiftly edited and presented for viewing the very next day while most of the guests were still around. As the footage played, they were all flabbergasted to see themselves on the TV.
I was astonished too, but for a different reason. All through the footage, there was not even a single instance where I had smiled. I epitomized the quintessential Indian bride, ingrained with the belief: "Don't smile, or you'll spoil the photographs.”
69. Airport
The next few days were a whirlwind. My husband gave me two choices - whether to go to Shimla for a short honeymoon or to go to Amritsar to see my parents. I chose Amritsar. I wanted him to see my hometown and get to know my parents a bit more. We went to Amritsar for two nights.
A week after our marriage he left for Australia. The whole family drove for four hours to see him off. Close to the departure time, my husband asked me whether I had seen an airplane up close. When I shook my head he said, “Come on I will show you.” It was his way to have a quiet moment with me. We went up the escalator to the arrival hall near a window. I barely got a glimpse of an airplane when his flight was announced. We had to head back.
It was at that moment the realization hit me. The man I had married, the man I had been with day and night for seven days was leaving, and I hadn’t even seen him properly. When we reached the escalator, I asked him to stop for a moment. He did. I simply took a good look at him.
It was then I realized I had fallen in love with him.
70. Three Predictions
I had an uncle, my mother’s elder sister’s husband, who had a god given gift to read palms. Once he read my palm and told me three things. All his predictions came true.
His first prediction was that I would study a lot, not only in my early years but in the later years of my life as well. Well, I became a writer and spent almost 12 hours a day reading and writing.
Second, I will settle abroad. Which came true.
Third, I will have a husband who will be the envy of every other woman. The man I am married to is everything a woman could want in a husband (of course it would have been better if he didn’t have certain quirks).
My plan was to go back to PGI and while waiting for my visa, I will somehow finish the third set of experiments and might be able to submit my thesis. At which my in-laws expressed disappointment that they will never get to spend any time with me. My new family had welcomed me as I had been forever their daughter. It didn’t feel right to leave them to go back to my studies.
Without a second thought, I gave up the idea of pursuing my Ph.D. anymore. I went to the institution a couple of days to resign, to hand over my notes, and to vacate my hostel room. For the next six months, I waited for my spouse's visa, with my husband’s family.
71. Letters
During those days, my only solace was the letters exchanged between my husband and me. Over six months, we forged a deeper connection through our correspondence. To the Western world, it might seem akin to marrying first and falling in love afterward—a model that wasn't without its merits.
An elderly and very wise person once told my husband his preference for the Indian system of arranged marriages. He opined that in the Western world, where couples have experienced everything together before marriage, the allure of their union diminishes, often leading to separations soon after marriage. However, I don't entirely subscribe to that view. I believe that marriages require constant effort and nurturing. As soon as you become complacent and start taking each other for granted, your marriage is in trouble.
72. Flight
Finally, when the time came for me to board my flight to Melbourne, I joked with my sister-in-law, “What if my plane got hijacked?” Just a few weeks before a Pan Am Flight from Bombay to Frankfurt was highjacked on its scheduled stop at Karachi. My sister-in-law hushed me. But it was my first flight and I was genuinely scared.
I reached Bangkok unscathed. There was a two-hour layover before my next flight. I followed my husband's instructions and stationed myself in front of a flight information screen to locate the gate number for the connecting flight. However, after staring at it for what felt like an eternity, I couldn't find any trace of my flight. Minutes passed into hours but my flight wasn’t showing. With each passing minute, my anxiety escalated. Finally, I sought assistance from the information desk and was informed that my flight had been canceled due to mechanical issues.
I couldn't believe my luck—it felt like a hijacking without the hijackers.
Feeling like a timid kitten, I joined the throngs of passengers boarding a bus bound for a nearby hotel. Upon arrival, I was awestruck by the grandeur of the 5-star Ramada Hotel. Its expansive atrium was adorned with hanging indoor plants, unlike anything I had ever seen.
We queued at the reception for room allocation. When my turn arrived, the receptionist asked if I could share with another woman because they were running out of rooms. A kind lady who had been sitting with me on the bus nodded encouragingly, indicating her willingness to share. However, the idea of rooming with a stranger filled me with dread, and I mustered the courage to decline firmly: "I am traveling alone; I will stay alone." The poor receptionist had no choice by to give me a separate room.
I got the entire room to myself but I had no idea how to inform my husband. I only had $20 on me because no one had envisioned that I would need any money en route to Melbourne on a flight. Fortunately, I met an Indian gentleman, a Sardarji from my home state, who assisted me in making a collect call to my husband. My husband’s reaction to the news surprised me—he seemed more upset than I was. Instead of receiving comfort from him, I found myself consoling him. Later, he confessed that he was simply dismayed at having to wait an extra day to see me.
73. My New Family
The following day, we were chauffeured from the hotel to the airport, where we boarded a flight bound for Australia. I dozed off for most of the journey. When I woke up an announcement was being made of our arrival. I couldn’t make out where we were arriving amidst the aircraft's noise and unfamiliar accent. My husband had cautioned me that the plane would first touch down in Sydney before continuing to Melbourne, emphasizing that I should remain aboard until the final destination. Now I wasn’t sure whether this new flight adhered to the same route. So I remained seated.
As nearly half the passengers disembarked, I made a snap decision to follow suit, reasoning if I encountered any signage along the way saying we were in Sydney, I would return to the plane. Consulting the flight attendants never crossed my mind, as I was adamant not to appear like a fool. Struggling beneath the weight of a heavy bag laden with Indian cooking utensils, I trudged forward until I finally glimpsed the sign: "Welcome to Melbourne."
Exhaling a sigh of relief, I presented my passport to the immigration officer, who, with a pleasant expression, commented, "So, you come here today?"
To my ears, his Australian accent sounded like, "So, you come here to die?"
Without missing a beat, I retorted, "No, I came here to live."
Passing through customs and crossing the gates, I entered a new chapter of my life. There stood my husband, accompanied by his friends, their wives, and children—all eagerly awaiting my arrival.
Amidst hugs, flowers, and joyful reunions, I transitioned from one country and one family into another country and another family.
That’s all from me this week.
See you next Friday.
What a wonderful story and so beautifully told. It made compulsive reading and I can’t wait for the next episode.
I'm loving your story! While working in San Francisco, I met a woman whose parents arranged her marriage. She was from Hong Kong and had come to UC Berkeley for her undergrad studies. She told me she'd fallen in love w/ a student, but when her father came at graduation, her father said they'd arranged a marriage for her. I asked if she was saddened by that. She explained that she was young and unaware but her parents knew her and set up a more appropriate match. She'd been married 12 yrs when I met her and they were quite content. For me it was another way to look at the world, not just the adage, Love conquers all. Looking forward to your next chapter!