Made in Heaven

Made in Heaven

The silent morning was broken by a familiar “coo-woo.... coo-woo…coo-woo.” A few times more before there came a reply, from a distance, a faint but sharper “coo-wuu… coo-wuu…. The melancholic exchange sounded like a pair of lost lovers separated by distance yet connected through the stream of endless, assuring “coos” that intensified with time. Sometimes there would be two sets of cries but somehow it seemed each bird echoed only to its call. Many times Syama had wondered how these creatures knew who was whose; sometimes she imitated their “cooing” to add confusion. Today, she would be her best and just listen to their song of soon-to-be union.

“I can’t imagine Syama lowering her head shyly while serving the drinks to the boy’s family,” said Aunt Geetha. It was even beyond Syama’s imagination. For the first time in her twenty four years of life, she’ll be availing herself for ‘viewing’, where a groom-prospective and his family would come over to a girl’s house to view the girl and her family. Prior to that someone, usually a family friend, would have introduced and informed both families about the availability.

“She is always playing and running around like a boy and now she has become a lady already. Luckily too, otherwise we’ll have to visit the boy’s house instead of them coming here,” chuckled the petite old lady.
The tall girl turned her head towards her aunt and stuck her tongue out before turning back to the smoking wok in front of her which churned out a pleasant smell of raisins and cashews being toasted in ghee. The pleasant aroma was soon replaced by the smell of semolina as she threw in a few cups of the rough flour into the ghee and began roasting it. She would not be doing this sweet if not for her Mother’s insistence. She bit her lower lips as Mother walked towards her with a small bottle in her hand.

“Kesari has always been the sweet to offer to guests who come to see the daughter of the house. Stir nicely and don’t let it burn. You don’t expect to give them cheesecakes and lemon-pie, do you?” chided Mother, as she added a generous portion the dark saffron colouring into the pot of water boiling in the next burner.
Syama knew Mother was joking but really cheesecake, especially lemon cheesecake and lemon pie would be a much better choice than the over-colored orange kesari to find out if the boy, Ganaraj, was suitable for her. She knew Ewe Jin fancied cheesecake and lemon pies. “Anyone saw Ewe Jin in the past few days? He’s been working so hard suddenly until he has no time to come over? Ma, you saw him?” asked Syama as Mother walked past her.

Ewe Jin was her best friend, after her sister Sharanya. Whenever Sharanya was not around, it was Ewe Jin she turned to, to confide, to run errands and everything miscellaneous. The third son of the Tan family next door had been, almost like a family. Together with a few other boys from the neighborhood, they had roamed the village roads of Bagan Lallang on their bicycles, plucked star fruits, guavas and mangoes from people’s homes, been chased and bitten by dogs once or twice and had bruised themselves racing on newly tarred roads.

“No…didn’t see” answered Aunt Geetha.

“This is what I made when your father came to see me for the first time,” Mother said. She stirred the semolina to examine the colour and nodded to Syama. “I think he loved my kesari first before he loved me, and he has loved me ever since,” she said with a smile, a shy, sort of newly-wed smile that never fails to emerge whenever she spoke fondly of her husband, Mr. Nataraj. Even after forty years of marriage, there was no need to tell about Mother’s devotion to her husband, everyone knew how much she adored him.
With Mother’s approval, Syama took out the boiling pot of water from the stove and slowly poured it into the dry roasted semolina, while Mother stirred rapidly so that no lumps formed in the wet mixture. The semolina grains swelled almost immediately soaking all the water. Mother added a few spoons of extra ghee as she stirred the mass of sweet again for the last time.
“We must at least commend her for coming into the kitchen today instead of stopping at the dinner hall with the other small children,” teased Aunt Geetha, her voice rising sharply above the music blasting from the cassette player. Modern Tamil songs had replaced the soft ‘bhajans’ which usually permeated the Nataraj household since last night, courtesy of her grand nephews and nieces. .

Two of the three elder Nataraj girls, Swashti and Suvarna were back at home with their children for the occasion. Swashti ,Suvarna, Shanti, Syama and Sharanya, same front syllable in their names being the norm for most Indian families. Shanti lived in England. Syama and Sharanya, the last two girls in the family were late attempts by their parents for a boy. They usually joined their nephews and nieces in board and card games whenever they came back home for holidays. Ewe Jin too would usually be there, after all, that was the time he could show off his carom as well as scholastic skills. But both Sharanya and Ewe Jin were not here this time!

“Why don’t you just marry me or even this statue instead of someone you don’t even know!?” Ewe Jin picked up the idol of Lord Ganesh sitting comfortably on the coffee table and gave it to Syama. “Match making…huh… that’s how my great grandparents got married! You are not scared that he will cheat you, what if he’s just marrying you to get your money and then kill you….you’ll never know right? That’s why it’s better for you to marry me instead!” he had said, when she told him about the matter.
Marry him? Another one of his cynical remarks, which she had cleverly defeated- he was a Chinese, she an Indian; he was an optician, she was a teacher; they were neighbors; and best of friends and nothing else.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes, nothing else,” she had said and knocked his head with a rolled up newspaper, if she could explain the envy she felt whenever he talked to Linda, the head perfect in the secondary school back in Form 5 or the heartache she felt when he left for Kelantan, and she to Penang when they were accepted into university and also the eagerness to see him that she felt whenever she came back for the semester breaks.
“I give you a thousand dollars can?”
“You pay me ten thousand dollars maybe can!”
“Wah! You so cheap ah?” He took the paper and knocked back on her head.

“Linda’s coming home for holidays is nothing new, and why should I be thinking of her and Ewe Jin?” These thoughts had been on her mind since Ewe Jin told her he met Linda in the Hare Krishna vegetarian shop recently. She felt angry. Maybe it was all just the way they bonded together. She never saw him as a Chinese boy and neither did he look upon her as an Indian, unlike the boys in the bas sekolah during her primary school days, who often taunted her with indecent, vulgar Chinese words. Those unruly boys were promptly dealt with by Ewe Jin and his brothers after school one day, and the taunting stopped.

“This Ganaraj, is a very homely boy it seems,” Aunt Geetha’s voice broke Syama’s thoughts. “Aunty Rajan tells me that’s why he wants his Mother to find a suitable wife for him rather than he himself find one. Funny….you can’t find boys like that very easily nowadays.”
“Anyway, it’s not always a doctor mappelei comes by. His family is also quite reputable,” said Swasthi, scrapping the blender jar as she finished grinding the dhall for the vadai. “I hope he’ll like you.”
“I think it’s more important that she likes him than he liking her,” said Suvarna, walking into the kitchen. The restless chirping of the mynah in the cage outside the kitchen caught her attention.
“Someone had obviously forgotten to feed her bird. Syama, you should just free this bird so that it can find its own food at least, and if you don’t bother I might as well do it myself,” she threatened as she poured birdseed kept in a plastic jar into the small feeding bowl in the cage.
The threat made the thin girl jump to her feet immediately. She never messed around with this sister because Suvarna, the second girl in the family, usually meant every word she said. Maybe being a nurse made her into such a strict person or maybe she became a nurse because that reflected her personality best, Syama has not been able to figure out which one was more suitable to describe her sister. The gap of eight years between them made Suvarna more autocratic than even Mother. If she did not do something about the bird, then her sister will not hesitate to open the cage and let Bulboy out! Aaah…Bulboy!
Bulboy was a gift from a college mate, a parting gift two years ago, not someone special to her, but maybe she was to him. “Syama had never forgotten to feed it”, Mother came to her defence. “Either in the morning before she left for the language centre or after she comes back she always feeds the bird”.
The poor bird, she thought, it was almost noon now. How could she have not heard his agitated cries? “I’ll change the water now, last night when I saw him, he still had lots of seed left…don’t know how it could finish so fast,” maybe that wasn’t true, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Syama carefully took the bird cage down and paraded it around the kitchen before hanging it back. Now she had done something about it!

Aunt Geetha had moved to the living room and was replacing the cover sheets on the sofas. Nothing would be left undusted and unchanged. The house has to be perfectly clean for the guests.
“Amma, why didn’t Aunt Geetha get married?” asked Syama, now that only the two of them were left in the kitchen.
“She didn’t want to,” Mother replied.
“But why not? Why didn’t your in-laws find a husband for her?” Syama insisted, curiosity kindled, causing Mother to hesitate for a moment. “Everyone got married through match making those days, right? So why wasn’t aunty Geetha?”
“Are you going to let me cut these onions peacefully or not….what a time to ask silly questions girl! Once your sister comes back she’s going to need these,” Mother started slicing the onions much faster than earlier.
“Amma, onions bring tears to your eyes, let me do it,” Syama pulled the cutting board from Mother and continued her inquiry, “Ok..now, why wasn’t Aunt Geetha married?”
“That was so long ago… it doesn’t matter now, she is happy with what she is, with all of you around, she never really wanted to get married. Too much of a hassle she says, you know your aunty. Now go look for something to do. It was so long ago…”
“Ma, tell me the truth, I’m not a small kid anymore, I know you’re hiding something. Please..please, before she comes back here, please…please ma”. The persistence in her voice made Mother give a few long looks at Aunt Geetha as if to make sure she was still in the living room before she disclosed any secret there was.
“She was in love with a colleague in the school where she was teaching,” Mother said, almost in whisper. “But my Mother-in-law… your grandmother, was against the very thought of it. Love marriage…huh…we are from the Gounder caste…the boy… heaven knows what…The old lady would rather die than to agree to a marriage between them. Your aunty was a stubborn person, so was your grandmother.”

Syama peeped at her aunt from behind the kitchen counter. Wow! Never in her dreams had Syama thought her paternal aunt could have had a boyfriend! Aunt Geetha had been with them all this while, looking as pretty even in her father’s old black and white wedding photographs. Small sized with thin sharp nose and fair skin, she would have made men yearn to have her in her youth. Though Mother and Aunt Geetha were almost the same age, Syama always thought her aunt looked much younger and energetic as if her youth and beauty had been preserved, untouched by time. She was educated, worked and retired as a teacher. Mother often told them how in an era most match-made daughters-in-law faced hard times in the hands of their mothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, Mother had Aunt Geetha’s unconditional support when she moved into Father’s family house as a new bride aged 16. Aunt Geetha helped to keep peace in the household as well as to bring up the five girls. She was nearing sixty now, but her spirit was like that of a twenty year old. Her nieces’ interest always came first.
“Remember the time Aunt Geetha saved me and Sharanya from Appa when we didn’t pierce our ears, how old was I then…ah Ma?”
“Seven,” Mother replied. The punishment was for ‘running off’ from the house when their ears were to be pierced. He would not believe they had gone for an important marble match in one of the boys’ house and had forgotten all about the ear piercing. The goldsmith who came to the house left without doing his job. Aunt Geetha could have taken half of the canning that day when she blocked her brother with all her might, something which even Mother wouldn’t have dared to do. Poor Aunt Geetha, Syama wouldn’t mind doing anything to please her old aunt.

Aunt Geetha walked back to the kitchen with a heap of dirty linen. Suvarna was back too, mixing the fine slices of onions and chopped dried chilies into the vadai batter, ready to fry the savouries. The oil was smoking, just good enough for the thick batter of dhall to be made into dhall patties.

“Did you and father like each other the first time itself?” asked Syama.
“Those days, if your parents liked the boy, then you have to like him too,” said Mother, glancing at Aunt Geetha. “You know how Grandmother was, caste, creed and all kind of customs. I didn’t see him until the engagement day and after that on the wedding day!” she said with her coy smile.
“You youngsters are a gifted lot. We only find you the match, you do the talking,” added Aunt Geetha.
“We even went out twice, Amma didn’t know, did you Ma? To the beach once and supermarket once I think” said Swashti, as she walked in with soiled nappies. She had five children, three boys and two girls, the eldest being 17 and the youngest still suckling.
“Like Mother like daughter…until when are you going to have kids and change nappies? Where’s the maid of yours? Give that to me, you go and rest,” Aunt Geetha took the nappies and hurried towards the bathroom. Swashti obligingly tagged behind her.

Syama didn’t know of her eldest sister’s outings but of course she knew of her ‘dates’ within the garden walls only too well. They were not allowed to go out before marriage then.
“You used to talk for hours in the garden, even the mosquito symphony hovering above your heads couldn’t stop you,” Syama said. “Amma used to send me out to see what you were doing!” Everyone broke out in laughter hearing the latest confession. She knew more about her sister than Mother did, especially those details that were censored from Tamil films on TV.
“I paid you with Cadbury chocolates for this?” came the reply from the bathroom.

The spicy smell of vadais sizzling in oil soon filled the kitchen as Suvarna expertly patted small portions of the thick dhall mixture in her hands and dropped them into the hot oil. Smoke flowed with hot air into the backyard where the semi detached house’s kitchen met with that of the neighbours’. Maybe that’s why the Tan family always got a generous portion of vadais and thosais with curry whenever Mother made them. Having the only Indian family in the neighbourhood for a neighbour, the Tan family had, over the years, developed a taste for Indian food, especially Ewe Jin. He liked Indian food, Indian movies and Indian girls too. He could at least be here to give his opinion about Ganaraj, or perhaps not, she thought. Was she making a mistake?
Syama had caught sight of him at his bedroom window on Friday morning. She was too busy however, avoiding the caterpillars on the white flower trees. He had moved away before she could even take her eyes off the caterpillars to gesture a wave at him; the creepy caterpillars were everywhere. The trees were in full bloom, little white flowers on every branch. She needed the flowers for a garland. What non-stop munching machines, she thought. She could almost see them growing fatter as the chewed leaves moved down their segmented bodies. She was amazed how these seemingly gross creatures that rip the trees of their leaves would soon wrap themselves up in their cocoons, abstain from all sensual activities as if hermits in meditation and emerge as butterflies. After that, leaves, however green and luscious they may be, would not attract them. Instead they would seek and enjoy only nectar from the flowers - the best part of the trees; just as they themselves were the best of their short life, in which they play the part of a match-maker for many a tree.

Syama picked up a hot vadai and tossed it from one hand to another, breaking off a small piece. She blew away the fragrant hot vapor which smelled of curry leaves and fennel and popped it into her mouth.
“Enough salt?” asked Suvarna. Syama nodded her head. “Spicy?”
“Too hot!”

“Astrologically, you and this boy are of good compatibility. Six out of the nine stars is good for your marriage.” said Mother as she cleared the kitchen top. Syama arranged the rectangular shaped kesaris into a serving tray. Suvarna, still with the vadais on the stove, turned towards them.
“This comes from the same astrologer that saw the compatibility for your sisters. He is never wrong,” Mother continued. Syama wasn’t sure whether she believed in astrology but that’s the way it has been for her sisters, and now for her too. To marry someone chosen by the family would mean she could always fall back on them if there was any trouble.
“Amma, how can the stars predict someone’s marital happiness? We always believe in things like this. How would you explain the marriage of other people, those who know nothing of this astrological compatibility? They live happily too,” Survana said, catching Mother off guard. As Mother turned, her hand hit the glass plate sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, sending it down with a crash, scattering bits and pieces of glass everywhere on the clean, maroon tiled kitchen floor.
“There goes your aunty’s favourite plate and on a good day such as this,” exclaimed Mother. “Pray Lord, let everything be okay.” She immediately picked up the broken pieces.
“Never mind ma, let me do it,” Syama tooka broom and swept the bits into a dustpan.
“I mean, it’s okay to believe in certain things but to depend on them entirely,” Survana mumbled as she turned the almost burnt vadais. “I’ve seen patients die who told me they had a long life according to astrology. I’ve seen marriages crash like that plate, though they had the best match.”
“Our marriages are different. Everything is written in the stars. How else can we be sure we have found the one we are destined for?” said Mother in response to Suvarna. “The elders say marriages are made in heaven. It has already been decided who will be married to whom. The horoscope is only to confirm the person,” she continued with an air of authority on the subject matter.
“If we are destined to meet the right one, couldn’t it happen without our small effort of astrology?” challenged Suvarna. “How can we know who is compatible with whom unless we check everyone on the planet.”
Syama sat down on the floor near kitchen door as the debate between Mother and Suvarna intensified. She looked across to the neighbour’s house. There must be some truth in astrological compatibility and marital bliss; otherwise it wouldn’t be there in their culture or their scriptures. But do the stars determine mixed marriages too? How would anybody know if she was compatible with a Chinese, like Ewe Jin as no one did a compatibility check! Can she count on the stars to tell her family that she liked someone from another race? The subject was blur to her, as blur as the white flower trees in the September shower that began a while ago.
“Syama girl, you know why it’s important to follow the family’s wishes, right?” Mother asked.
“So that if I fight with my husband I can always come back here to stay with you?” Syama said, closing the grill gate of the kitchen as rain poured down on the backyard.
“No…you stay with your husband always, with our blessing.”
“Then you won’t help, the stars won’t help….who will help?” Syama hugged Mother from the back. “You know Ma, some of my friends did not even do any astrological checking or match-making, they just married the boy they liked…you know Kala, right? She just married with a register marriage no ceremony even,” she said tightening her grip on Mother’s waist.
“Then when they have trouble, their family won’t take the blame, sometimes they can’t have children, they become widows, they have accidents…all because of not doing the marriage properly according to tradition,” Mother said pushing Syama’s hand away to continue cleaning.
“If it is tradition, then traditions change with time,” Syama’s thoughts went back to Ewe Jin’s words. “We change with time, you are better than your mother and even her mother, so why should you still agree to a match made marriage?” A marriage out of one’s race is not a tradition. Will it happen, and will it survive? Syama looked at the white flower tree through the grill gate. The caterpillars will survive if they were intended to.

With the cooking done, the rest will be left to the maid. She saw Father sleeping in his room as she went upstairs. Her nephews and nieces had gone to Sinn Tatt garden before the rain and were not back yet, the baby was sleeping in the living room. She sat on the bed, moving aside the two saris lying side by side in the middle of the bed. The embroidered and sequined pink chiffon sari, or the purple and green silk sari. Mother’s choice or hers? The silk sari looked elegant on her, sort of aristocratic, so formal. She liked the softness of the pastel pink chiffon, it brought out the tone of her light brown skin and she liked the way her navel peeped through it occasionally.
“Which one are you wearing?” Syama was startled.
“Don’t know-lah akka.” She moved the clothes and accessories strewn on the bed a bit so that Suvarna could sit.
“Both look nice on you, only that your hair is short, so the chiffon would be better if you ask me… with the silk sari you need to put on a wig with pleats to suit.”
“I’m not getting married today to wear a wig….it’s only viewing..”
“That’s what you think but they…they are going to inspect you…from head to toe, to see if you fit in their preference, and if they think you should have long pleated hair with silk sari, the next time that’s what you’ll be wearing,” Suvarna was sharp with her words. “Those days they actually checked the girls’ virginity during this viewing sessions, you believe that? Huh…” She let out a cynical laugh. “so you really don’t mind marrying someone you hardly know?” she said again, this time looking straight into Syama’s eyes. Syama was surprised but soon composed herself. “It’s 1990. You are young and educated…capable of finding your own husband when you want to ……you don’t have to be married off like the rest of us you know,” she continued.
“But you are happy with your married life, what makes you think I won’t?” Syama replied, bluntly.
There was a moment of silence. But Syama soon regretted her words when she saw the tears rolling down her sister’s smooth cheeks.
“Hmmm…that’s what you think. Happy married life. That’s what Mother and Father think, and all our relatives. She’s a well-to-do businessman’s wife they say, drives a big car, three India trips a year…no one knows…..no one cares. Except for me …. only I know what I’m going through,” teardrops swelled from her sister’s eyes.
“I’ve put up with his endless affairs and countless promises to stop, for years. You don’t know how hurting it is when you know your husband is cheating on you and yet you are unable to do anything about it. Women from the clubs, women from the business, now….. it’s his Malay clerk, pregnant three months with his child, I don’t have to tell this to you, girl,” she tried hard to contain herself. “You know it yourself, my marriage was a perfect match, from our names … Suvarna and Suryanathan, to the lucky stars, and everything was supposed to be perfect. But where did it go wrong?” she started sounding sober as she tried to hide her tears.
“We never knew about all these…must be awful for you…You should tell to Ma, I’m sure…sometimes things just go wrong, you have to tell to get help, but like Amma always says if you were not doing your part well, you can’t blame heaven for that,” said Syama, breaking the momentary silence of the room. The shock was too great for her to offer any word of advice to her sister.
“I can’t tell this to anyone. Not to Mother or Father….it’ll be a heart break for them. I don’t think I’ll regret if I ever get divorced, that’s what I want anyway. I’ve got the strength to bear it now, after all these years.. I’ve got my job, my two children, my pension for the future, he can’t do anything to me now, … but there is one thing that I do regret not doing in the beginning of this mess….. I should have told Mother and Father about Kr…,” she stopped, closing her eyes and clasping Syama’s hands .
“About who?” Syama asked, holding her sister’s hand tightly.
“About Krishna …. my schoolmate .… Remember those letters I used to wait for?.. Krishna..my classmate, we loved each other since I was in Form Five….I never dared to tell that to anyone.”
“Those letters I had to hide and bring to you for twenty cents? But they were from your girlfriend Veni akka …. oh!!!!” Syama exclaimed. “But why didn’t you tell?” she asked in disbelieve.
“How could I? They found me a perfect match, right? Right after Form six, they were telling every one of our relatives, I was to be married off right after I finished nursing certificate. How can I let them down? I broke off before I went to Ipoh,” answered Suvarna.
“They might have listened if they knew,” said Syama, holding her sister’s hand tightly.
“Yes, that’s why I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did.” The firmness in her voice was different than her usual authoritarian voice, a serious tone that demanded immediate action.
“You have a choice, so does Sharanya. No marriage is smooth sailing but at least you should be the one to decide it, not some astrologer who could go wrong any time.”
“But I don’t love anyone to make any declarations,” said Syama, lowering her eyes quickly onto the saris waiting to be chosen. She flipped the chiffon sari and held the silk sari up against her body. Her vain attempts did nothing to stop Suvarna. “Ewe Jin was here just now.”
Syama immediately turned to face Suvarna. “Why didn’t you call me,” her heart screamed. “What does he want and where has he been for the past few days?” she said.
“Nowhere except his room… He wants you to know that you mean a lot to him. I think he is confused whether its love or friendship he feels for you.”
“Why didn’t he just tell me that when we talked about match-making and marriages last week?” Syama thought. Then she would have told him that she felt the same way too. And it would have saved her all the trouble of imagining him and Linda. Linda was never his type anyway.
“Do you think of him like that Syama? Huh ......really funny, did you know one astrologer predicted you will be married to someone from a different race?”

Syama was not listening to Suvarna or to the exciting voices of the children back from shopping or even the birds chirping in relief of the heavy rain which just stopped. If Ewe Jin was here just now, he might still be in his house. They have shared many secrets. Yes, it’s funny how they could have kept this a secret from each other. Like the secret of metamorphosis the caterpillars kept within their cocoon. She would go over to his house to talk to him. She would take some kesari and vadai for him – the rest, her Mother could serve to the guests later.
“Leaving the house in the middle of an occasion is not new to you and covering up for you is not new for us anyway!” said Suvarna as Syama strode downstairs.

“Syama, you off to somewhere, girl? asked Aunt Geetha from behind the kitchen door.
“See Ewe Jin for a while….very important…”
“Never mind…take your time, here.. come take some vadai and kesari for them….the doctor family just called to say they won’t make it today. I think the boy must have someone else in mind, where can find obedient young men nowadays… you’ll be okay right?” Aunt Geetha could be so frank sometimes. The same words coming from Mother would have sounded a hundred times more serious.
“So they’re not coming? Great ….no problem with me,” Syama yelled back as she was already at the threshold of the house.
Though her “coo” cries from heaven might take longer than the birds’ but she is intent on pursuing it. A smiling Aunt Geetha nodded her head in agreement as Syama left for Ewe Jin’s house. September showers were bound to stop sometime but a match made in heaven?


--------Shakthi-----


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