“Before you can understand the twins, I think first you need to understand your grandmother. So let’s go back to early 1993, when I got married.”
*******
The weather was cold. The sky was overcast. But it didn’t matter, since Arun Shivaram was used to this now. Living in the Bay Area these last couple years had made him more resistant to the cold. And besides, it’s February. It’s supposed to be cold.
The 27-year-old sat at a table in the courtyard of Bangalore Club, right in the middle of the turquoise-colored colonial-era buildings. Despite living in the city during his college years, he’d never actually been here. He looked around and saw fancy-dressed middle-aged people, speaking with posh accents and daintily sipping on drinks. Yeah, Arun decided, he didn’t really want to come here ever again.
He wasn’t even here by choice. “We fixed your marriage to a girl from a good family,” his father said, soon after he landed. “Go meet her in Bangalore Club.” And of course he did as he was told, for even now his father terrified him. Any time he even lifted a finger Arun could feel himself flinch.
After a few minutes of sitting here, Arun spotted two figures approaching him. One of them was a short, portly man with a mustache, and following the man was a small, skinny, fair-skinned 22-year-old girl with her hands in front and her head facing down. This must be who I’m marrying, Arun thought. He’d seen her picture before getting here.
“Hi,” said the man, offering his hand. “I am Prabhakar Shetty. Advocate. If you ever get stopped by police or blamed for murder, you may call me.”
Arun stood up and shook his hand, chuckling awkwardly.
“Arun Shivaram. Uh… engineer. I design microchips.”
Prabhakar pointed at the girl.
“My youngest daughter, Sandhya.”
Arun smiled at her; the polite thing to do in this situation, he figured. Sandhya looked up at him and smiled back, but her head was still pointing downward. The three of them sat down.
“You’re based in San Francisco, yes?” asked Prabhakar.
“San Jose,” said Arun. “But I’m on leave for a month.”
“Accha,” said Prabhakar. “Good, good. See, this is why I picked you for my daughter. I wanted a son-in-law who lived abroad, and grandchildren with accents.”
Arun shuffled uncomfortably. He then turned to Sandhya.
“So, um, S-Sandhya. Which college did you study in again?”
“Oh, um…” Sandhya’s voice was quiet and hesitant. “I… s-studied in–”
“She studied in an all-girls college,” said Prabhakar, cutting her off. “No ‘boyfriend’ nonsense that way. She studied home science, and came third in her class!”
Arun awkwardly nodded. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back.
“Do you have any hobbies?”
Sandhya’s eyes darted around. She still wasn’t looking up.
“I like… um… d-drawing–”
“She likes to draw, paint, and do gardening,” said Prabhakar, cutting her off again. “But she also likes helping her mother in the kitchen and taking care of Amit, her nephew. She was born to be a housewife!”
Okay something’s up with this guy, thought Arun. Why does he keep doing that?
“But what are YOUR hobbies, Mr. Arun?” asked Prabhakar. “Or do you even have time? I know how you America-based engineers are, always working. Sandhya… ”
Sandhya turned to her father.
“... make sure he remembers to come home to you every night. Wait, he will definitely remember if you have dinner ready for him on time!”
At this point Arun was rather fed up with him. He decided to ask one last question.
“Are you excited to come to the US?”
Sandhya turned back to him. She still wasn’t looking up.
“I– I think–”
“She’s VERY excited,” said Prabhakar. “She’s always wanted to go, ever since her aunt and uncle went some years back. And now she’s actually going!”
Arun tried his best to maintain a smile but inside he was growling with frustration. His eyes happened to fall on Sandhya’s face, whose eyes kept darting between her father and the tabletop.
And then he saw it.
It was unmistakable, in her eyes.
That exact same fear that he had of his father, she had of hers.
But this Prabhakar Shetty didn’t seem like the type who would beat his daughters. No, this was deeper than that.
Arun suddenly felt a wave of pity for this girl. He decided that once he brought her to the US she should have as much freedom as he could give her. They all stood up, said their goodbyes, and left.
Just two weeks after the meeting in Bangalore Club was the wedding, in March. And a couple days after that, the newlyweds flew to the Bay Area.
Arun unlocked the door to his modest, two-bedroom apartment in Sunnyvale and led his new bride in. She slowly followed him inside, quietly taking in her new home. In the master bedroom she noticed Arun didn’t have a bed, but instead a large sleeping bag.
“No bed?” said Sandhya.
“Oh, no, sorry,” said Arun. “We can get one if you want.”
“No, it’s okay.”
Arun noticed the tone of Sandhya’s voice. It wasn’t happiness, or excitement. This was the voice of a person resigned to a fate they didn’t choose for themself.
*******
“You never wanted to go to Bangalore Club again?” asked Aarush, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “How often do you go there now?”
“Once a month!” said Arun, laughing. “Far more often than I’d have liked, which, you have your grandmother to thank for that.”
Once the laughter died down Aarush quietly stared at his grandfather.
“Did you actually want to get married that time?”
Arun hesitated.
“Whether I wanted to or not, I don’t think it matters now. It was so long ago, what’s done is done.”
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