A Vacation that Led to an Unexpected Arranged Marriage Proposal
Note: In the midst of a pandemic, I began having an identity crisis. The rise of hate crimes against AAPI brothers and sisters left me feeling heartbroken and powerless. I turned to the writing community for a sense of comfort, and to help me take my power back. Writing has always reminded me that I still have a duty to document and tell our stories. I will be publishing excerpts from my unpublished memoir throughout the month. Happy Asian Pacific American Heritage Month! #APAHM. (Excerpt 5)
My mom was 19 and my dad was 26-years-old when they tied the knot in a traditional Hindu wedding ceremony in Karamsad, Gujarat, India, in 1986.
Growing up, I never quite understood the cultural intricacies of arranged marriages. I had the stereotypical, narrow-minded notion that many couples didn’t have a choice but to accept the marriage proposal their parents helped bring forward.
Eventually, I came to appreciate the cultural significance of my parents’ arranged marriage and respected their decision for having one.
For my parents, their arranged marriage essentially felt like two families coming together to join a union. It was like marrying into each others’ families.
Although I decided that I would never get an arranged marriage, I always appreciated hearing the success stories of people who’ve had arranged marriages and have been content with their decisions. I was always fascinated by my parents’ arranged marriage and their ability to fall in love after a marriage that was set up by their family members.
The story goes like this: My dad had planned a two-week vacation in India to visit his parents, but never anticipated that he’d be getting an arranged marriage on the trip. The girl he ended up having an arranged marriage with was none other than my mom, a 19-year-old college student from Vadodara, India.
It turns out that my dad’s grandfather happened to be next-door neighbors and good friends with my mom’s grandparents.
During the trip, a family friend had helped organize and encourage the meet-up with my mom’s family since word had spread that my dad was going to be in India visiting for a few weeks.
My mom’s cousin heard about the news and rushed to my mom’s house on bike, gasping for breath, telling my grandma that my mom should “quickly get dressed” and wear her “nice sari” because “a boy from America” — otherwise known as my dad, was going to show up any minute to meet my mom.
My mom’s cousin was ecstatic, but my mom felt like her insides were knotted tightly. She had very little experience talking to boys, let alone a potential suitor.
Later that day, my dad met my mom’s parents at her grandfather’s house for the first time. When dad saw my mom walking across the room, he noticed the way her hair was elegantly braided, and the way her beautiful brown eyes looked away whenever he spoke to her parents.
Dad couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance of my mom and maternal grandmother. He noticed how mom exuded radiance and a certain glow that brought out her calm and well-mannered personality.
After making a few introductions and passing some chai and setting some Indian snacks on the small rectangular coffee table, my mom’s outspoken cousin asked her to take my dad upstairs so they could talk alone and get to know each other.
One of the first things my dad noticed was the way my mom turned her body away or couldn’t look him straight in the eyes. He tried to make her feel comfortable, but there was a deafening silence in the room. Dad tried to break the ice by asking her a couple of questions and making her smile again. Dad had initiated most of the talking, and they both ended up laughing and enjoying each other’s company after a few minutes had passed.
“I got attracted to her because she had beautiful eyes and a caring and pleasant personality,” dad recalled in our interview.
Mom would often tell me that when she met dad for the first time, she wore her mom’s favorite blue and bright pink sari and put her hair back in a tight braid. Dad wore a dress shirt and trouser pants, which made my mom feel as though he came well dressed and prepared. He parted his hair to the side and rocked a ‘70s-inspired mustache.
For mom, the initial meeting or first date seemed like an interview because of the questions my dad was asking:
“What did you study in college?”
“Do you plan to have children?”
“What are your hobbies?”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
My dad had never dated girls during his high school or college years, so he wasn’t sure how this whole thing worked. My mom had never dated anyone either.
Even though mom was flooded by these questions, she thought it was a cute gesture. She was enthralled by the goofiness of my dad and his oversized ’70s glasses that made him look like he fit the stereotypical mold for a computer programmer from America.
Even though dad tried to keep the conversation going, his palms started sweating and the beads on his forehead became even more prominent. It was summertime, and my dad was probably not acclimated to the extreme weather in India because it was the first time in decades since he had visited the country.
After noticing my dad looking a little flushed and dehydrated, my mom went downstairs to get a cold glass of water for my dad. In our interview, my dad awkwardly said, “I thought that was nice of her. It does get hot in India.”
The brief break gave my mom some time to compose herself and run to the downstairs restroom to check her appearance in the mirror and make sure there was nothing embarrassing stuck in her braids or her teeth.
Of course, during our interview, dad denied that he was ever nervous during the first real conversation he had with the girl he had just met. Rather, it had more so do to do with India’s hot summers, he explained. (Of course, my mom had a different story to tell in our interview. She said he was sweating probably because of his nerves or he was not used to talking to girls).
Mom and dad lost track of time as they shared their interests and dreams. They didn’t realize they were talking for about an hour until their parents interrupted them and asked them to come downstairs for lunch.
Looking back, my dad said he never thought he’d get an arranged marriage, but believes it was a good decision. At the age of 26, he didn’t date anyone and was too busy focusing on his education and helping his parents out financially.
After only having been in the U.S. for a year, dad was ready to settle down and start a family.
“It was my dad’s wish that I would get married to your mom because he liked the family and it was probably my dad’s friend who had influenced him in some way as well, and also the fact that my dad lived next door to the girl’s kind-hearted grandparents.”
After a few days before he was to head back to the U.S., my dad was eager to see my mom again. He felt a flurry of butterflies in the pit of his stomach, urging him to spend as much time getting to know my mom before heading back to America where he’d stare at computers for 12 hours a day.
My mom had one of her cousins act as a chaperone before meeting up with my dad for a second time. Even though my parents never had an official date, meet-ups would always require a family member or cousin to be around to supervise. They would never be alone.
My mom’s cousin and her fiance suggested they all take a tour bus for an adventure out into the city. “It was sort of like a double date,” my dad said.
They ate dosas (rice pancakes) at a nice restaurant in Vadodara, India, and enjoyed their time sightseeing and introducing my dad to some of the landmarks in the city like bridges, Hindu temples, and government buildings.
My mom and dad sat across from each other at the restaurant. Dad crossed his arms while waiting for his food to arrive as my mom began to feel more comfortable enough to ask him more questions. Being away from the parents for a few hours also made it easier to get to know each other without the fear of parents lurking around the corner.
After having some delicious South Indian food, my mom and dad agreed to spend a little more time at my mom’s cousin’s house in the city. The room didn’t have a fan, and my dad kept trying to roll up his shirt when my mom wasn’t looking.
They talked, laughed, and shared some of their stories until my mom noticed blood oozing out of my dad’s right nostril. She heard about nosebleeds, but had never seen one in person. The blood came oozing out as though my dad had been knocked down to the ground by someone.
The humidity and possible anxiety of meeting my mom a second time had probably induced the nosebleed. Without hesitation, my mom took out a handkerchief that was safely secured in her sari and gave it to my dad.
She then told him to lay down on the couch and elevate his head and keep his nose from bleeding again by applying constant light pressure.
“She was almost like a nurse, so I thought that was nice of her, especially because we had only met once before and she hardly knew me. I thought, ‘wow, this is a caring person.’ And I could see that she was concerned,” dad told me in our interview.
My dad shared that although he had met mom twice and was intent on marrying her, he had also received a few requests from other interested families who wanted their daughters to be considered for his hand in marriage.
Dad told me that one of his cousins had another girl in mind and wanted him to at least take a look at her photograph and meet with her and then decide. He wasn’t happy about it.
“I pretty much decided on first glance that this is going to be my future wife. So as not to upset the other family, I told my parents I would consider meeting with the other girl as a courtesy.”
Even though my dad met with a second girl, he wasn’t as interested in her. All he could think about was my mom. Everywhere he turned, her warm smile and soothing voice would drown out all other conversations in the room.
Since my dad’s two weeks were about to be up pretty soon, he knew he had to make a decision about how he felt about my mom in just a few days. Soon enough, my dad’s grandparents got involved in the matter because they also wanted a say in the arranged marriage. My dad’s parents told them that they liked Smita (my mom) and was the perfect choice for my dad.
Before agreeing to the marriage, my dad’s parents asked him if approved and my dad said “yes” without hesitation. He was happy to know his parents were also content with the choice, though he knew that ultimately his arranged marriage was also his decision.
I didn’t know this piece of information until I interviewed my parents. I always had the idea that they didn’t have a choice — that they had to follow through with their parents’ wishes. I also didn’t know how quickly the arranged marriage planning had to come together.
My dad eventually sent another notice to his employer in the U.S., and had a gut feeling he’d be let go from his job because he had to extend his vacation to six weeks to accommodate for the wedding ceremony.
“Everything was done very fast and of course I had to extend my vacation from work. I went to India to visit my parents, and wasn’t anticipating getting married. I didn’t think I would get married, but it happened so quickly,” dad said in the interview.
Even if mom wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her brothers, mom, and father, she knew it was time to leave her safety net and her life in India. She imagined how difficult it would be not being able to see her parents for years once she settled in America. But it was a sacrifice she had to make for a better life for her and her family.
The Wedding Day
On the day of the wedding, mom had her mehndi done by one of her close friends. My mom laid out her hands for hours as she felt the cold and soothing mehndi paste create intricate geometrical shapes.
The ceremony in India lasted for about two days. The evening before the wedding included a garba or cultural dance and a morning haldi or pithi ceremony where elder sisters and non-blood related sisters would lovingly smear turmeric on my mom and dad’s faces and legs as a blessing before their Wedding Day.
The outdoor wedding was held in my paternal grandfather’s hometown of Karamsad, India. Eager friends and extended family members greeted both families as they began the festivities.
A string of marigolds draped the silver mandap where the ceremony took place. A priest sat down and initiated the religious wedding vows and began chanting prayers and helping the couple recite vows before having them walk seven times around a fire pit to consummate their marriage ritual.
“Mom looked like an actress. She wore a beautiful red, green and white sari for the wedding, and she looked very pretty — even prettier than the first time I saw her,” dad recalled in the interview.
After the wedding festivities were over, my parent’s honeymoon was booked in Mount Abu — a beautiful spot in Rajasthan near the Gujarat border, near a mountain and hill station where honeymooners and couples would often visit and go on boating and other adventures.
Around the same time, my dad received a notice from his employer that he would no longer work for the company because he had extended his vacation long enough.
“I was expecting that,” my dad said in our interview.
After the honeymoon, dad said his goodbyes to my mom and her parents and took his flight back to the U.S. He eventually got another job at a bank and sponsored my mom so she could immigrate to the U.S. It would be at least another year until my mom would start her next chapter in the U.S. in 1987.
Getting married was more important than a job at the time, so my dad kept his spirits up and knew he made the right decision.
