The Arranged Marriage — Act 4, Scene 3
Setting: Cubbon Park, Bengaluru. It has been 10 years since Kritika and Aditya got married. Their 5-year old son, Vibhu, is running around on the grass with his big sister, 8-year old Bhuvi, while Kritika watches them intermittently, balancing a business laptop in one hand while setting a picnic on a chequered blanket on the ground. It is obvious that time has not been kind to her in the past decade — she has aged a lot in this span. Her shoulder-length hair is sprinkled liberally with greys, and a lingering sadness surrounds her eyes like a shadow.
Kritika: My darlings, come and eat. We can play in a bit. Amma will join you, too.
The kids yell something about 5 more minutes and continue to play. Kritika assents, and continues what she was doing earlier.
Savitri: (from a distance) Bhuvi! Vibhu! Come say hello to thatha-paati —
The kids run happily towards her. She is pushing Shankar on a wheelchair, and momentarily lets go of it to embrace the children.
Shankar: Where is your mom?
Savitri: There, she is sitting right there. Shall we wait here, Shankar?
Shankar: But I want to walk on the grass!
Savitri: (patiently, as if talking to a 3 year old) You said your head was spinning when we got out of the taxi, so I thought we could avoid movement —
Shankar: Just 5 minutes, ok?
Savitri: (resigned sigh) Ok. Up you get.
She helps Shankar on to his feet. He is unsteady, but manages to walk the odd distance to Kritika, and sits higgledy-piggledy on the blanket next to her. The children attack the food that has been set. Shankar is eyeing the decadent sandwiches furtively, but Savitri has her gaze fixed firmly on him, so he does not make a move.
Savitri: (tired and irritable) Pah! Such a long wait at the hospital today. And then they couldn’t find his vein, so another half hour. I told them not to remove the port last week, but dear GOD this man was adamant.
Shankar: I just wanted to sleep on my tummy without that pokey thing. We will bicker about this later. Sit, Savitri.
Kritika: Just chemo today, then? Or did you see the doctor too?
Savitri: What more is there for the doctor to say? He wants us to complete the remaining sessions and then go home. Nothing more to do. Ranjani was saying something about a Naturopath who gives some carrot-based medication… Maybe we should try that next. She says he cured AIDS, too.
Kritika: Sorry, Appa. (hugs him and stays that way for some time, eyes moist)
Savitri: We have to call Vasu, Shankar. It’s been two weeks…
Shankar: Will he be back from his reunion thing? He said something about hiking with his IIT gang at Machu Picchu.
Savitri: No, that was quite some time ago. He said he was going on the Appalachian trail with THAT…boy.
Shankar: Ah yes, our dear son-in-law. I swear Anders calls me Appa more than Vasu ever did.
Kritika: Amma, did they tell you they’re adopting a child? They’ll be coming to India soon to finish formalities. It’s not a secret anymore. They’ve gone viral on Instagram. I’m sure a lot of our folks have seen it. You should at least host a wedding reception for them—
Shankar: No, Kritika. Just…no. I think that’s too much to expect from your mom and me, with the way things are right now. (indicates his frail body sadly)
Savitri: It’s one thing for us to say yes to that abomination, but a whole other thing to move around like it is normal, and host a farce of a wedding. I assented only on your father’s insistence because we want all of you to be happy.
Shankar: Whether we like it or not, Savitri, they ARE legally married now. My cancer was a convenient excuse for us to not attend the wedding in Seattle.
Savitri: Well, then, thank God for THAT. I’ve told Ranjani that Vasu has no interest in marriage, and to stop sharing further matches for him. What else can I possibly say without our relatives cutting us off?
Shankar: You and your relatives. I’m still not sure why you all pretend the way you do. I’m sorry that Kritika couldn’t go in person, though… It was a beautiful ceremony at sunrise.
Kritika: I didn’t want to leave for the US when you were this weak, Appa.
Savitri: How on earth do you know how the ceremony was?
Shankar: Live streaming. Anders shared the link with me. He helped with troubleshooting, too. Nice boy. They will take good care of each other. That’s all I want.
There is uneasy silence for a little while as each of them is lost in their own thoughts. The children have resumed their games, fuelled by the carb rush.
Shankar: Kritika?
Kritika: Yes, Appa. Tell me. Do you need a wrap? I know you feel cold after chemo, so I brought a quilt with me —
Shankar: (rather severely) Screw the quilt. There’s something more important I want to ask you. A request. No, a demand. Ok, give me the damn quilt. But wait, that’s not my demand —
Kritika: (sighs sadly) I’m not getting married again, Appa.
(raises her hand to stop Shankar as he tried to interject)
I can’t just bring some random guy into our lives and expect things to be hunky-dory. It would absolutely not be fair to them, especially to Bhuvi. She was 3 when Aditya….when he left us. She remembers her dad. She has no idea what happened, but you know kids… they understand much more than we give them credit for.
Savitri: (gently) Then they will understand this, too Kritika. Yes, it will be hard. But your father and I are not going to be around forever.
Shankar: We want you to be happy, too. With a worthy companion. Someone who can apply a salve over all your wounds from your round trip to Hell.
Savitri: Vidya and Bhaskar feel the same way, Kritika. They don’t want you to be tied to their family out of a sense of guilt. They’ve bought a home in a senior living facility, it seems.
Kritika: They didn’t even tell me. After everything I’ve done for them in Aditya’s stead.
Shankar: Savitri is terrible at keeping secrets, but I’m sure they mean well. I can say this with confidence. They wouldn’t want to be a burden to you if you…move on.
Kritika: Tell me, amma, appa — which good green-flag guy will be ok with me running a foundation in my late husband’s name? That’s the least of it. Which guy will take on the role of father to my two littles without some aspects of ‘father’ missing? Nobody can replace Aditya. Nobody.
Shankar: Of course, kanna. Nobody can, and nobody will. Aditya will remain your kids’ dad. I’m damn sure he wouldn’t want you to be this lonely…
Kritika: What if I don’t want to move on?
Shankar: That’s your call in the end, Kritika. We will never force a relationship on you. I still blame myself for the state that you are in. If we were not so insistent on getting you married, maybe you’d have met someone else at leisure… Someone who wasn’t fated to die so soon. Life would have been different… Maybe you’d have married that Sringeri fellow, who knows?
Kritika: (laughs humorlessly) I have no regrets about marrying Aditya, Appa. I have Bhuvi and Vibhu to raise, in his memory. As for the Sringeri guy, I never told you what happened to him, did I? He had a bad accident and lost his memory. His mother got him married to the first person who said yes. I’m sure he’s happy, now, wherever he is. (shrugs, detachedly)
Savitri: Some rigged game of dice your life has been, sweet child of mine. Maybe we’ll find meaning some day, maybe we won’t… (puts one arm around her, the other around Shankar)
Shankar: Will you tell them? Some day? That their father was a hero?
Kritika: I don’t want them to develop a fear of hospitals or psychiatry or scissors, for that matter… They will know what happened to him when they’re adults. I’m sure they’ll be insanely proud of him, even in sadness.
Savitri: What’s going on with the foundation? Any word from the Home Minister?
Kritika: (smiles genuinely for the first time since they all met on this day)
He’s promised to introduce a Bill in the upcoming Winter session. It’s long pending, but I think the Prevention of Violence against Doctors Bill will finally see the light soon… We’ve also managed to request some amendments in the existing verbiage in the Karnataka equivalent — no doctors to be without armed security if the patient is a proclaimed violent offender, and such…
Shankar: I’m so, so proud of you, my child. I’m sure Aditya is watching over you all, and trying to help you every step of the way.
Kritika: I miss him every moment, Appa. So much of Vibhu is miniature Aditya… It’s so bittersweet.
Savitri: Move back home with us, child. We’ve been telling you this for years now… Why live alone? Your children will also be happier.
Shankar: She likes her independence, this one. I understand if you don’t want to stay with us, Kritika… But it would be good to have you around. Just 3 more months, as your mom says. (winks) After that, you can take your mom along and go wherever you please.
Savitri: (affronted) This man is not even worried about what will happen to me after he happily kicks his bucket.
Shankar: (mock-seriously) You are free to get married again, you know?
Savitri: I’m done with men for this lifetime.
Shankar: Who said anything about men? Vasu has opened my eyes to a world beyond bland normal marriages — (laughs hoarsely, starts coughing)
Savitri is silent and sullen, fiddling angrily with her worn handbag.
Shankar: Savitri, I was joking. (more insistently) Savitri LISTEN TO ME — (coughs again. She looks at him in alarm)
Savitri: Ok, ok. Sorry. Joke. Got it. Calm down.
Shankar: (cough subsides slowly) Look at Kritika. How brave our daughter has been in the face of unexpected loss! She was pregnant with Vibhu when Aditya died.
Kritika: I had no choice, Appa. Bhuvi was looking to me for strength and understanding. Poor child was just three. She didn’t even know what dying or loss meant…
Savitri: (tersely) Any specific point you have in mind, old man?
Shankar: I meant, life goes on, Savitri. In your case, you know I’m going. You can prepare yourself for it mentally — other activities to keep you occupied…
Savitri: Ok. (snorts derisively, but her eyes give her away. Shankar gives her hand a squeeze, and holds on.)
Savitri: 3 months, Kritika. At best. After that — (raises her hands to the sky, lets them fall abruptly, crying silently)
Shankar: Hey. I’m RIGHT here. Why do you people behave as if I’m already flowing in the Kaveri?!
Kritika: We won’t do that again, Appa. Promise.
Shankar: Kritika… If it’s not too morose a topic, I have a small wish.
Kritika: Anything. Tell me.
Shankar: That beautiful farmland you have in Kochavalli, next to the Tunga river?
Kritika: Yes. Close to Sringeri. (sighs) I haven’t even been there in a whole decade…
Shankar: I’d like to rest there, Kritika…
Kritika: Sure, Appa. But it’ll be a risk, staying away from major hospitals —
Shankar: (with energy) I’m done with this hospital crap, Kritika. I just want to spend the rest of my days amidst nature.
Kritika: Ok. Your wish is my command. I’ll get the farmhouse cleaned and ready for you. Do you think you can handle the road trip? Or would you like me to charter a small helicopter for you?
Savitri: Sometimes I don’t know if she is joking or actually means any of this.
Shankar: I’ll take the road trip. It’ll possibly be a one-way journey, anyway—
Savitri: PAH! There he goes again — being blasé about death — no care in the world —
Kritika: (frowns, thinking) Why do I get a feeling this isn’t just some relaxation, but some other ulterior agenda???
Shankar: (politely) It CAN be whatever you want it to be, Kritika. I assume you’ll be staying back? Would you mind checking in once a while and keeping Savitri’s house clean?
Kritika nods.
Shankar’s phone buzzes, and he checks it discreetly. Series of whatsapp message conversation follows.
Vignesh: Did she say yes to your plan?
Shankar: Yes. We will be coming by next fortnight, God willing.
Vignesh: Good. Leave everything else to me, and relax Uncle.
Shankar: I warn you again. She is not the same bubbly Kritika you had met a decade ago. Life has hit her too hard.
Vignesh: Doesn’t matter. I am the same Vignesh she met a decade ago. The one without memory loss.
***
