Mappilai Mike

INITIALLY, the name '"Michael" did create some apprehension. I thought of Michael Corleone, who inherited the "Godfather" title from his father and also actor Michael Douglas who, at the age of 56, went on romancing like a 20-year old. And what if Michael exhibited some of the traditional mappillai murukku? Well, these apprehensions proved groundless. Michael Glinsky was tall, slim, looked a bit of a pavam (innocent) and got along famously with everyone. He liked everything Indian and relished sambhar, rasam, pongal as well as dhokla and tandoori dishes.

Did I say Mike liked everything Indian? Well, that included my elder daughter Mansie now studying in Miami, Florida. She too liked him and they got married at Miami on the evening of March 11. Foregoing a traditional honeymoon, the couple landed in Mumbai and spent about ten days with us. Our "national" family had become "international".

My daughter met Mike while both of them were studying at Ohio. I don't know if it was love at first sight. Her earlier E-mail messages constantly mentioned a "Mike" and what a nice chap he was. These went on for some months and then came the message that they were getting engaged and would be married after some time.

Our feelings were mixed. But we had to respect the judgment of our daughter who had chartered her own course in life, including the American sojourn. She was always frank and open with us and we knew she would not take any rash decisions. So, it was good news for us. I had been relieved of the responsibility of hunting for a suitable match for her. In fact, when she was in Mumbai some two years ago, I joked that I would have to spend lots of time with marriage brokers in Matunga finalising an alliance for her with a Subbaraman, Venkatachalam or Narayanaswamy. How much cheeru (trousseau) should I have to give her? The only silver lining was that the cheeru will include a couple of my favourite sweet, the huge, cone-shaped Mundhiriparrupu thengai.

When Mansie finally conveyed the exact wedding date to us, my wife got busy. The daughter was having a "beach" wedding and wanted a gown. This was made at home, along with a "tiara" as well as suitable clothes like Nehru jackets for Mike. We wondered if we should attend the wedding in distant Miami, but gave up the idea when we learnt that they were coming to Mumbai.

I experienced strange feelings when my daughter called us on her wedding day. Did I regret that she did not have a traditional wedding with a South Indian brahmin man? Not really. The world is one, the people are the same. There are just two divisions, the good and the bad. My wife had some apprehensions about the free, open society in the U.S. and the high divorce rate. But when we learnt that Mike came from a large, well-knit family, we were reassured. The entire family, Mike's parents, four brothers and one sister attended the wedding. That made us happy.

My thoughts were focussed on my attachment to my daughter. Oh, how I enjoyed carrying her, telling her stories and taking care of her. She was a precocious child who began to talk even in her eighth month. So many memories. At the time of the interview for the KG class, she handed over some grapes she was eating to the Convent Sister who was in charge. In fact, she talked so much that the people who were "interviewing" her wondered how to stop her! Later, as she grew up she shared my passionate interest in sports and I was so proud when she represented her school and the State's School team in hockey.

Mansie loved the West Indian cricketers for the exuberant manner they played the game. The walls in her room were plastered with pictures of West Indian stars like Clive Lloyd, Viv Richards, Joel Garner, Michael Holding, and of course, Malcolm Marshall who was a special favourite.

Now, she was married and on her own. With Mike by her side. The beach wedding in Miami was okay, but we had a small function in Mumbai where Mike tied the traditional thali around her neck. Only the family was present and our friend, Sabarinathan, a top ranking local caterer, provided us with a wonderful wedding saddhi (meal). Mike enjoyed the aviyal, olan, kalan, pachadi, payasam and other items of the traditional menu.

That evening we held a small reception cum dinner. Everyone was curious to have a glimpse of the American jamai (son-in-law). Almost all our friends turned up. Sabari's ven pongal, maisoor bonda, thayir vadai and puri sabji followed by kulfi were relished by everyone. Mike went through the programme stoically. He had never been out of the U.S. and to have come to India must have caused a culture shock. We had a busy week. The shopping expeditions were endless. The telephone never stopped ringing. I had no time to read the newspapers and missed most of the news on Clinton's visit to India. The computer, for once, was neglected. But then, a daughter's wedding reception was a once in a lifetime experience and should be accorded top priority.

Only two more days are left for their departure. After that once more, we have to rely on E-mail messages and the occasional telephone calls. There are parents who feel that once married, their daughters are lost to them. This is rubbish. Our bonds are strong and permanent. We had given Mansie complete freedom to run her life and I, for one, would never have thought of forcing her into a marriage. Fortunately, all that is irrelevant. "Jodi achha hai," (They make a good couple) observed our neighbours at the wedding reception. I was pleased and prayed for a long, happy married life for Mansie and Mike.

V.GANGADHAR

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