The Unsuitable Suitors

Chapter Twenty Seven

"Skin lightening cream? No, Mum, no."

My mother was looking at me icily. "Okay, if you are not into self-improvement, what can I do? Stay stuck. I don't know what you see in these people you find. Daman showed me a picture of a girl he likes.My God, your dad said she looked like E.T.!"

"E.T?" I coughed up pieces of the Brazil nuts I had been chewing.

"Yes," said my mother. 'You know, that alien from the Steven Spellberg film."

"Spielberg," corrected Daman, rolling his eyes. "She is beautiful. How can you think she looks like E.T?"

"Her eyes are so far apart, that's why! If you can't see that, you need your eyes tested!" said my mother.

"At least he finished with that tight-fisted investment banker!" said Dad.

"The one who bought you a single yellow rose for your birthday?" I asked.

Dad said "Yes, that her work friend probably gave her for her promotion!"

"My God, the way she rationed out everything, it was like a world war had started!" Mum said. "Daman, please marry someone who is generous to her 'in laws', I used to do so much for mine, always updating their furniture, getting them medi—"

"Enough!" I yelled.

My grandmother had popped in and was commenting that the daal did not have enough salt. My mother gave her a dark look. My grandmother had stayed quiet whilst listening to news about my new intended, though I had felt her cast a few evil stares in my direction. In the kitchen, she jostled me aside as I was filling my glass with tap water from the sink.

"Out of the way!" she commanded. "I have to wash grapes for my baby darling Daman!"

After she had finished washing the grapes and placing them in front of Daman, she said abruptly, "Can I have my gold necklace back?"

"What?" I was shocked that my precious heirloom was being taken from me.

"Well, I don't approve of who you are going to marry. Your parents are right. He's not from our community, and I was looking forward to your wedding, too. Anyway, I will be back tomorrow evening, so make sure you give it back to me."

I thought my grandmother was being rather cutthroat in asking for her treasure to be returned. If only she had known I had recklessly risked my life and others to save that blasted necklace.

The tiny lady then suddenly grabbed the sides of shoulders and looked up at me. There was a pause as we both looked at each other in the eyes in what felt a very unnatural stance. "Do you love me, daughter?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, all you do is call this Praan now and say that this marriage is not happening here, in this family!" she said. "Just give him a call and remember to say sorry at the end."

Laughter nearly burst out from me.

My grandmother repeated her request. I shook my head. I was not going to make this call to Praan. My grandmother's lip curled up in annoyance.

"All right, you stubborn camel!" shouted my grandmother. She said more softly, after a pause, "Have a look at some more photos, single boys who are looking for wives. I visited the big central London gurdwara. They offer more choice."

I protested, but my grandmother insisted. Did she not understand? She held the photos out for me and flicked through them. I found myself looking at the photos, I guess out of some perverse habit. After all, until very recently, was that not what I had done? Flick through countless photos of strangers from the opposite sex?