CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Hindi word for song is gana.
Being ever the romantic Kishore loved to enclose me in his arms, resting my head on his chest, I felt sung and safe. Closing my eyes, I breathed in his familiar Cossack smell, it was as if this is where I belonged. We gently rocked from side to side as he sung sweet Indian songs of love softly in my ear. I didn’t understand any of the words but as I opened my eyes and looked up at him, I saw his devotion for me from his dreamy stare. I knew the meaning of the words came from deep in his heart by the way he communicated the songs that were filled with expressions of deep emotion. A particular verse from a gana Kishore sang to me was from a 1970 movie called Aan Milo Sajna.
Kishore translated its meaning:
Living far away in separation
Lest I become tired of living
Now come back to me my lover
When he sang the first two lines he felt they portrayed exactly his life before meeting me. The last line portrayed our lives now.
We began a routine of going to the video shop and hiring old Hindi movies. In the 1980’s video shops were a new concept, to be able to choose any movie and watch it in the comfort and privacy of your living room was terribly exciting. The foreign movie selection was limited, to find a movie Kishore liked was one thing but to find one with English sub-tittles was a harder challenge. The real classic black and white ones were Kishore’s favourite and they soon became my favourite too. Some of these timeless masterpieces were made when his Mother was a child. We ended up watching the same movies that were shot in beautiful, scenic, mountainous locations all over India and around the world, over and over again. I didn’t mind because with repetition I soon began to pick up Hindi words.
I found it a little odd that the movies included so many songs. Just as we were engrossed in the plot, the scene would suddenly change and the stars of the movie would appear in different costumes and begin a song and dance routine with additional dancers. With each new song came a different change of clothes and landscape.
Before meeting Kishore, I was accustomed to watching English movies with the same plot and storyline. I naively asked him how the actors had time to change their clothes, hairstyle and make-up between scenes. One song alone, he soon told me, could take five days of shooting, costumes and dance rehearsals were factors, as was the weather. When the song was over the scene changed back to the plot of the movie, until the next song! The actors, Kishore told me, mimed the lyrics. Their acting was really good and I found it hard to believe the actors were only mouthing the words. In India, he said, the singers were just as famous as the actors. We both agreed we loved these old classic movies because they contained gorgeous actors with a natural eternal beauty. The movie that stood out as my favourite was Aradhana, which was made in 1969, a sad and endearing love story, starring an enchanting, graceful actress called Sharmila Targore. I thought her a little like the glamorous beauties - Sophia Loren and Elizabeth Taylor.
I had heard stories of child brides within Indian culture, which I thought was extremely bizarre. One day while we were browsing through the foreign movie shelves at the video shop, Kishore found an old heart-warming love story on this particular topic.
He triumphantly held up the case in front of me. The picture on the cover was of a beautiful actress. Not only was the movie on the topic he wanted, it also starred Padmini Kolhapure. Clutching the video cover to his chest and with a far-off look in his eye, he dreamily confessed she was his all-time favourite actress.
The perfect movie – starring his dream-girl and the topic he wanted me to see - another side to the story of these so called child brides. These children who were pre-ordained to be married were usually childhood friends while growing up and played together probably as neighbours in the same village. Generally the parents of the children would know each other and decide the children should be married, perhaps their wedding would take place at the start of their teenage years when they were around twelve or thirteen years old. The children at that stage wouldn’t know any different and thought it would be fun to marry their life-long play friend.
We paid for the movie and as my Dad and Mum were out, headed back to my house to watch it. Sitting together on the couch we soon became engrossed in the plot. Ramesh and Sunita (Padmini Kolhapure) from a young age knew they were to marry when they were older. At three or four years old they were the best of friends and even played getting married games. Unfortunately for them, Ramesh’s family had to move away but he and Sunita promised to remember each other and always stay in touch. This was a hard thing to do in those days because the only line of communication was by letter. The families tried to do as they promised but eventually lost contact with each other.
Ready for a drink and snacks we decided it was time for intermission. Kishore pushed the pause button on the remote and we quickly made a cup of hot Milo and loaded a plate with gingernut cookies. We settled in front of the TV again and pushed play. As we both reached for a cookie at the same time we touched hands and turned to gaze lovingly at each other. We then laughed as we turned our heads back to our mugs and simultaneously dunked our cookies into our warm drinks. Gingernut cookies, being hard to bite were perfect for this task, they soaked up just the right amount of liquid to make them soft enough to chew but didn’t get soggy spoiling the enjoyment of eating the cookie by it falling into mush at the bottom of the cup.
The movie resumed with Ramesh and Sunita growing older, memories faded as each slowly forgot their young playmate. Years passed and they were soon both in their early twenties leading their own separate lives and set of circumstances. Sunita was engaged to someone else but one day, seemingly by chance, she crossed paths with Ramesh. They did not recognise each other but still, something inside each of them sparked some sort of familiarity. Ramesh and Sunita began to see each other as friends to begin with and slowly deeper feelings developed. Although Sunita was already engaged she could not help her strong, confusing attraction to Ramesh.
Eventually one day when they met up Ramesh began humming a tune from a song he remembered from his childhood. Sunita recognised the song and putting the pieces together they realised they were in fact the childhood friends who were supposed to marry. A tender emotional scene took place as the two had an elaborate reunion. Realising their love for each other Sunita told her fiancé she could not marry him and wed the man their parents had arranged when they were young.
When the movie ended my mind was all over the place, thinking about arranged marriages and parents choosing their partner for their child. As hard as it was, I tried to imagine the circumstances from an Indian cultural point of view.
Getting up again, this time to make a cup of tea, I quickly settled back on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me as we talked. Kishore told me arranged marriages were normal in India, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Japan and Bangladesh. Western marriages focus on couples in love marrying but, when all is said and done was love enough? The rate of divorce in western marriage is quite high and as I thought about this, I wondered when the lovey-dovey stuff wore off what was left? A lifetime of commitment – a lifetime of marriage to the same person for ever and ever? But if your Mother and Father choose your partner, they make that decision based on level-headed sensibility and wise judgement because their decision had to last a life-time.
As we continued to chat, Kishore sat closer and put his arm around me. He explained further that Gandhi was in fact married at the age of thirteen, in 1883. His wife was fourteen years old. They both continued living with their own families until they were around eighteen or nineteen and then set up house as a ‘real’ husband and wife.
Of course there are times when divorce is the only answer but it’s rare. Marriage is meant to be for a lifetime, in Indian marriages you worked through your problems.
Kishore went to take the movie from the machine and I returned the dishes to the kitchen. Placing the cups and plate in the sink I gazed out of the window. A light drizzle had started to fall, chewing my bottom lip I drifted off into my thoughts. I wondered if Kishore and I were ever to marry could I really spend a lifetime with him? I was slowly coming to understand India’s culture was as different to my own as a fish is out of water. Could I live the rest of my life being immersed in a culture I felt I would never possibly fully identify with? Kishore had told me he believed we were destined to meet, that he had travelled many miles just to be with me. Maybe he was right. Maybe our separate paths were meant to meet but did that mean we were meant to be together forever?