Julie & Kishore (10 page)

My
memories of December rolling around each year would begin with the preparation
of gift lists and the updating
of
the family
Christmas card address book. Two weeks before the big day our fake tinsel tree
was pulled from its box in the cupboard, put together and decorated with
coloured baubles, tinsel and plastic angels. On Christmas Eve cookies and milk
were put out for Santa, not forgetting carrots for the reindeer. With tingling
excitement the big day finally arrived, heralded in by the sun, hopefully but
not always, because
its
been known at the last minute
to rain. We gathered in the lounge room to open our presents. Every year the
whole family united to revel in the festivities, the celebration always made me
feel content inside as if a candle was glowing in my heart.

When
we were little
,
during the summer holiday’s Mum and Dad took us on
warm evenings to the beach. Mum packed sausages and salad in the car along with
our portable BBQ set. While we swam in the warm water and played on the sand
with our spades and buckets, Dad cooked sausages once he managed to light the
BBQ.

When
our food was ready he called us to come to eat. Sausages taste so much better
outdoors wrapped around a piece of bread and spread with tomato sauce. Once we
finished eating and had wiped the sauce off our faces, Dad set up the
swing-ball set and we played and played until the sun was setting. Just before
it
got dark, Mum and Dad loaded up all of our
belongings into the boot of the car and we hopped in the back. Happy but
exhausted we couldn’t keep our eyes open and slept on the way home.

It
was a ritual to watch the evening news at six o’clock. This was the most
important news medium at the time. At-one-minute-to-six every night our whole
house was hushed as we sat in front of the television, eager to see and hear
the news of the day.

These
rituals are part of Kiwi traditions that most New Zealand families enjoy
.

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?