A Dowryless Wedding

By Merlin Franco

Life was never going to be easy as a Communist in a Christian family, in a Christian town. But now arranged marriage looms and for Franklin, things are about to get even more complicated.

Nisha is beautiful and she seems to like him, but her family are the in-laws from Hell. Franklin tells them he doesn't want a dowry, and everything goes pear-shaped. Everyone has a say in his marriage except him: his mother prays for his demon soul; his father-in-law treats him like a dangerous imbecile; Nisha can't stop crying and the debts are mounting.

Now rumours are spreading that he tried to set fire to his wife. Everyone is ready to abandon him, even his former comrades.

Can Franklin make his families see sense and save his marriage? Will Nisha stop crying for long enough to listen? What is an eco-socialist to do when the whole world turns against him?

A Dowryless Wedding is a poignant comedy of manners and marriage in a society where tradition and modern life are forever at odds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Merlin Franco
• Release date: Jun 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386228493

Book preview

A DOWRYLESS WEDDING

Merlin Franco

Dowry:

The money, goods, or estate that a woman brings to her husband in marriage

—The Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Any presents made at the time of a marriage to either party to the marriage in the form of cash, ornaments, clothes or other articles, shall not be deemed to be dowry within the meaning of this section, unless they are made as consideration for the marriage of the said parties.

—The Dowry Prohibition Act 1961

CHAPTER 1

Pranklee, supper is ready. Mom’s call brought me back to 2009. I closed the black-jacketed journal in my hand and got up.

If you have concluded that my name is Pranklee, please allow me to correct you. My name is Franklin. Since my beloved Tamil language lacks a sonic equivalent of the exotic ‘f’ sound, my handsome western name is butchered to ‘Pranklin’ or sometimes ‘Pranklee’. You may wonder if my beloved mother tongue, Tamil, is an under-developed language. No. Remember, Tamil has given the unique sound zha to the world. Forget the cold fact that not many Tamilians can pronounce it, and the credit goes to the neighbouring Keralites, who borrowed it from Tamil and take pride in pronouncing it correctly.

Mom served rice and fish curry on the rubber wood table. In Kanyakumari, any time is fish time, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. We rarely sat down to eat meals as a family or bothered to say the customary prayer before meals. Perhaps the prayers were silent. Nevertheless, Mom always ensured that she prayed every night before going to bed to ensure peace, love, and happiness in our home. Occasionally, we had Pentecostal pastors visit to augment her efforts in communicating with the Almighty. As for the rest of us, we went to the Catholic church, hindering Mom’s ability to directly communicate with the Almighty. She and her Pentecostal team meticulously planned to repel any ‘evils’ brought in by the idol worship performed in the Catholic church. The best part of the Pentecostal form of worship is that it permits the worshipper to express themselves freely while talking to God. Clap, dance, shout, cry, or laugh––all these can be considered a part of the prayer; or a nuisance, depending on which side of the line you stand. Mom’s team had an additional task: to pray for the soul of a church-going atheist and communist––Pranklee, the prodigal son who never seemed to return.

The semi-polished large-grained rice tasted good with the nethili fish curry. Like any other Kanyakumarian, I didn’t notice the missing vegetables on my plate. My tongue relished the anchovies while my thoughts boarded the train to the next day.

Pranklee, what are you staring at? Mom reminded me to focus on the food before me. I looked at my empty plate, grains of rice dried and sticking to it, and at my right hand, from where the fish curry had started to stink.

You are going to the college tomorrow, right? she asked as I got up to wash my hands.

"Yes, amma, I said. I am eagerly looking forward to tomorrow."

Okay she sighed. I shall wake up early in the morning and get breakfast ready for you.

*****

The bus was running parallel to the Western Ghats. Another fifteen minutes to reach Nagercoil, if the road was not clogged by cars carrying a single passenger––the proud, tax-paying driver. I looked at the clean-shaven blue mountains, blemished with stone quarries, the cotton clouds wrapped around their heads, and the lotus ponds drying at their feet. That was my eureka moment, albeit formally dressed and in a moving bus that would have turned into Archimedes’ tub had it rained. The lotus ponds reminded me of the ban on lotus cultivation imposed by overzealous environmentalists. This could be the topic of research Annette was seeking for her MPhil.

I started conceptualising the research as the bus entered the Vadassery bus stand, which was built over a slough. Another two hours to Tirunelveli, meaning I could develop a mental framework for the research.

We were looking forward to the meeting called by the management of St Zephyrinus College. The air in St Zephyrinus was saturated with rumours about a possible pay hike; that we were going to be paid 15,300 rupees per month, as stipulated by the University Grants Commission. Almost double of what we earned then.

After reaching St. Zephyrinus, I took a seat in the fourth row of the large hall officially misnamed an auditorium, ignoring the few empty seats before me. I could only sit behind the senior faculty members, following the unwritten protocol. The bronze Indian lamp with a cross above it was lit by the priests in white, followed by the welcome speech by Dr Agathiyan from the faculty of Tamil language.

Colleagues, it’s my privilege to welcome our distinguished Fathers to this highly significant meeting, he started and turned to look at the priests seated behind him. The lights in this hall appear dim before your brightened faces. I’m sure our young faculty members seated before me here are also going back today with equally bright faces. He turned to face the audience and continued, Yes, this is happening today. This is happening only because of the special effort of our Principal, Reverend Father Alphonse Jade. I sat steady, readying myself for the feast of chaste Tamil, ornate with traditional flattering, reduplications, and musical words from Dr Agathiyan. As an Associate Professor of Tamil, he was the torchbearer of the Tamil poetic tradition of singing the praises of kings in return for gifts.

Father Jade is the light of this college; Father Jade is the spade that buries illiteracy and ignorance; Father Jade was sent from heaven to deliver the poor. He paused as if he was admiring the glow in the dark face of Father Jade, and continued, A Niagara of love; the epitome of knowledge; and the Viagra of performance…

Oh shit! I heard someone swearing behind me. I turned to look at the faces around me, struggling to control their curses and laughs. Flattery, or satire? I wondered, while looking at Father Jade. His face still glowed.

After Father Jade, it was the turns of Reverend Father John Pinto, the Rector, and Vice Principal Reverend Father John Bosco, to blush. Finally, after a good twenty minutes of flattering, Dr Agathiyan stepped down from the lectern and shook hands with Father Jade.

It was Reverend Father Jade’s turn to speak next. He took a dig at the inequalities existing in society, the government that exploited the labour of workers, the private, self-funded universities that sold education, and the rich who never bothered to spare money for the poor. However, there was no mention of the pay hike. He spoke for an hour in Cambridge English and retired to his seat, emptying a bottle of pristine pure packaged water. Father Bosco and Father Pinto rose from their seats and shook hands with Father Jade, congratulating him on his eloquent speech.

It was Father Pinto’s turn next. His words resonated with music, reflecting the musician in him. He spoke about his days at the folk music school, love for dogs, and penchant for parakeets. He took another humble one and a half hours to finish his enlightening talk, without bothering to halt even when the highly liquefied milk tea was served. Talk of the pay hike was missing again. Father Jade and Father Bosco rose to congratulate Father Pinto when he was done. I wriggled to soothe my sore bum.

Is there any pay hike at all? a colleague next to me asked.

No clue, I replied, as hope began fading.

My cell phone vibrated, and I pulled it out under the desk to read, Father Blade is awesome––Jaya. I turned to look back at Jayakumar, who was texting from two rows behind. He looked nonchalant, as if he hadn’t sent the text.

Reverend Father Bosco came to the podium and cleared his throat. Dear friends, he began in his usual soft and poised tone. My heartbeat gathered momentum. I looked at him like a kid awaiting his peanut candy. We have deliberated upon the voluminous representations received from you for a pay hike. There were smiles on all our faces, joy in our hearts, and drool in our mouths. Father Jade’s face was calm; mine glowed. He spoke for thirty minutes on the rationale behind the pay hike. I looked at my watch: 1:30 p.m. Yet, I didn’t feel hungry, for my stomach runneth over with happiness. Finally, he uttered the much-awaited words. Colleagues, considering all these factors, the Society of Saint Zephyrinus has generously decided to award a pay hike of four hundred rupees per month.

Just 10 dollars? I couldn’t believe it.

Somebody in the crowd uttered, What the fuhhh! Two senior faculty members got up from their seats and left the auditorium quickly. I sat motionless. Father Bosco continued, The pay hike will place a tremendous burden on society. We have therefore decided that the hike will be applicable only to those faculty members who have put in a minimum of two years of service.

Duh! That ruled out a pay hike for me; I had put up with all those hours of crap in vain.

More curses were heard from the rows behind me. The dais slowly became vacant. I saw the august, intelligent and honourable Reverends walking away, smiling and congratulating each other. Jaya patted me on the back, and together, we walked to the canteen, finding our way among the students returning from lunch. No words were spoken. We continued our silence through lunch and parted ways with smiles that masked our disappointment.

As I walked through the corridor, I saw Dr Britto Antony King leaning on a pillar, hands inserted into his pant pockets, talking to a young lady who looked familiar––an undergraduate student. Their voices plummeted and zeroed as I neared, and rose again, reverberating with giggles after I passed them.

Eeeeeeeek…

I moved quickly to the edge of the corridor and looked up in the direction of the screeching sound. The familiar white-headed kite was circling over the convent. He must have spotted his prey.

I entered the department office and took my seat. Except for Dr King, the others from the faculty of the Day College, employed under the aided stream, had already left. Annette came in a few minutes later.

I smiled at her. Please take your seat, I pointed to the wooden chair.

No, sir, I am comfortable standing here, said Annette. I nodded, since it is not common practice for a student at St Zephyrinus to sit before a faculty member. Annette, have you observed the cultivated lotus ponds of Kanyakumari?

Yes sir, she replied enthusiastically. They are a delight to see. But I feel sorry that they won’t survive much longer.

True. But, did you notice that those ponds without lotus are in a pitiable condition, while ponds with lotus are being managed well by their traditional cultivators?

Is it? she raised her eyebrows.

This is my hypothesis: Lotus cultivated ponds are better off than the others, owing to the traditional management practices of the cultivators. Why don’t we test this for your MPhil dissertation?

Sir, I think your hypothesis might work, she said after giving it some thought. Maybe I can do a reconnaissance survey this weekend when I go back to Kanyakumari. She was poised to be an asset to Kanyakumari one day.

Dr Romario entered the room, accepted our greetings, walked past us, and made himself sparsely visible inside his frosted glass cabin. I gave Annette an outline idea for her survey. She jotted down the main points, thanked me and left.

Five minutes after she’d left, I was summoned by Dr Romario. There’s something important I want to discuss with you, he started, rolling a piece of petrified wood that he used as a paperweight.

Yes sir, please go ahead, I said.

He asked me about Annette’s dissertation, and I explained in detail the hypothesis we had just discussed.

He listened to me, caressing his double chin all the while, and when I was done, he pushed his chair back and looked at the ceiling with both hands clasped behind his head.

Dr Franklin, this is not going to work.

May I know the reason, sir? I asked, hiding my disappointment.

I can’t let a bachelor staff member roam around deserted ponds with a female student.

I looked at him with a blank face.

No, no. Please don’t think that I am old fashioned. I just want you guys to stay out of trouble. You know what I mean?

But sir…

It wouldn’t have been an issue if the student was a male, he said.

Oh! I am permitted to be gay! I said to myself.

You can take time to think about it, should you need to, he said while continuing to play with the petrified wood.

I thought for a while. I should not be worried about the stories him or the society still rooted in petrified notions would cook up. I am a researcher whose primary responsibility is to find answers to the problems faced by society. There was no way I would back out from this, come what may.

Sir, I trust myself. I looked up and said, I see this hypothesis as a boon, definitely not a bane. Maybe we could even get the ban repealed.

His eyebrows shrunk at the centre and remained so for a while. Well then, I think you should go ahead with the research. I am not stopping you from curing social evils. But, you, and you alone, will be responsible for the consequences. Do we agree?

Yes sir. I have never shied away from responsibility for my actions.

You sound like an activist, Dr Franklin. I have seen quite a lot of them. He looked at me as if he was a hypnotist and continued, I don’t remember their names. Sadly, nobody remembers them anymore. They mushroom out of nowhere; live on somebody else’s hard work, and disappear. They make a huge hue and cry over social injustice but are a social malaise themselves. You can hear them everywhere. Below flag posts, at factory entrances, at universities, in front of corporations, and even in hospital beds. He rolled the petrified piece of wood in his hands. Let me be straight; are you a communist?

No sir, I am an ecosocialist.

I walked to the washroom to splash some water on my face before going home.

Franklin sir, getting ready to meet some girl? Dr King appeared in the mirror.

No sir, just getting ready to go home.

I thought you were getting ready to meet some girl. Be cautious with girls, sir. You never know if the snake in the burrow is a rat snake or a rattle snake until it bites you.

Huh? I looked at his image in the mirror.

Do you know Sreeja? The tall, fair girl in the third-year bachelor’s course?

Of course, I do. I have handled two modules for her class.

Have you ever noticed anything strange about her?

No sir, she appears quite normal to me.

Well, you are wrong, sir. She is a perverted girl!

What?

Yes. I was conducting extra practical classes for her class this afternoon, sir. I noticed that she was opening her purse often.

Okay…

I thought there was something fishy. So, I took her purse and checked it. You wouldn’t believe what happened next.

What was that, sir?

She had a cell phone, sir, a cell phone!

I got it. Another cell phone story that I did not want to hear.

Sir, I’m urgently on my way out. I have guests coming home, and I have some preparations to attend to, I lied.

The issue is not about the cell phone, sir. It’s the contents of the phone.

Yes, sir. Let’s talk sometime next week.

That kid occupied my thoughts throughout the journey back home. I felt sorry I wasn’t able to help her.

CHAPTER 2

The conductor blew the whistle. Parakuntru! he shouted, looking at me. I waved at him and got up from my seat. All I wanted was to get home and have some good food. But my steps slowed down when I noticed a person sitting in front of the abandoned library. I turned back and headed to one of the shops.

Hi Pranklee, just arrived? the shopkeeper asked.

Yeah, just now.

"He looks tired. Make him a sarbath first before you start your usual chat," the elderly toddy tapper who was buying something told him.

He doesn’t drink those chemicals, he replied, cutting a lime in two and squashing a piece into a glass. Inserting his index finger into the soda bottle to push down the marble seal, he said, Ten years since I opened this shop, and I know who drinks what. He poured the soda into the glass and stirred it with a pinch of salt. I plucked a red banana from the best bunch, and peeled it, peeping through the bunches to see if he was still there in front of the library. He was gone. I took the glass and walked to the side.

Hi Pranklee…

I sipped the lime soda, pretending not to hear the voice.

Hi Pranklee, just arrived?

Yes, yes. Just arrived.

It is a tiring journey, isn’t it?

I shook my head.

He looked at me with a tinge of sympathy and then asked, Hey, remember the girl from Nilavilai?

Girl from Nilavilai?

Yes, yes, the one who is in college? Have I ever told you that she’d be a good match?

Oh… yes, yes, I remember. But that was a year ago, right? I imagine she’s married by now.

Yes, the same lady, but she is single. He smiled. "I spoke to her dad about you just today, and he