The Stories of the Two Aruns

I don’t want to generalize, but it does seem like it can be hard for young Indian couples who are in love to find the same sort of enthusiasm for their relationships amongst their parents as they themselves have. In the past week, I’ve talked to two guys named Arun (one, my classmate who I have stayed with in Gujarat these past few days; the other, a cousin of Anil’s that I met at the wedding and then later for drinks before I left Mumbai.) Both of them are newly engaged, with girls they met on their own while at school, and who are from different Indian ethnic and geographical backgrounds than they. Both have also invited me to their weddings later in the year, so I guess if I wanted to write a book focused on Indian weddings, I probably could manage!

In any case, in a culture where arranged marriages are still common practice, the Aruns are an example of how difficult it can be for the new generation to challenge the norms of the old generation. They also highlight how hard it is to pursue your own dreams in the face of your parents’ dreams for you – to find a happy balance between what you want most and to your obligations to your families.

My grad school classmate Arun is a fun story. For two years the rest of the class was convinced that he and another classmate of ours, Nila, were madly in love and destined to get married. For two years, these two denied it to both us and themselves. About two months ago though, I found out that they had gotten engaged. Half enraged at the deception and one hundred percent overjoyed for them, I could not wait to see Arun and find out how it all happened. Over the course of the past few days at his house, I found out that making the engagement work wasn’t as easy for Arun and Nila as most would expect. The largest hurdle was their different backgrounds – whereas Arun is Marati, Nila comes from Punjab. Luckily for Arun and Nila, it was not their parents who were opposed to the idea of their marriage – both sweet and both caring most about their children’s happiness, it took minimal convincing for them to agree that Arun and Nila were indeed in love. It was actually the extended families that proved to be the greatest obstacles. Nila spent months trying to convince the aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives that Arun was a worthy husband, despite not being from Punjab. It is fair to assume that Nila’s legendary stubbornness is what won the day in the end.

The story was different for Anil’s cousin Arun. He met his future wife while they were both taking the entrance exams for a business school in Mumbai. She is from Delhi, so they had a period of long distance courtship that culminated in the blossoming of a real relationship when she had to move to Mumbai to work for a couple years, unbeknownst to either set of parents. When she moved back to Delhi, her parents began the process of attempting to arrange her marriage, introducing eligible bachelors to her. At some point, they realized they could not hide the relationship any longer and decided to take the next step – telling their parents and seeking approval. While it wasn’t a surprise to me that the parents would lodge their objections, Arun’s explanation of why was rather surprising. They were insulted. That’s right, parents – fathers especially – see the marriage of their children as their responsibility. The notion that their kids would go out and find a husband or wife on their own was a bad reflection of a parent’s ability to, well, parent. It took a lot of work, over a year and a half’s worth to be more specific, on the parts of Arun and his fiancé to bring both sets of parents on board.

Now, with the hard part behind them, both Arun’s have turned their attention to the wedding and afterwards. With both of them being involved in long-distance relationships, and both fiancés being strong, independent, and successful career-women, they have serious decisions to make. For some, more traditional families, it is the woman who must move. Even for more progressive families, parents often like to have their married children living at home. The wonderful parents of my grad-school friend Arun built a third-floor addition to their house, just on the off-chance that he and Nila would end up living with them. For Anil’s Arun, his parents would expect his wife to move to Mumbai, and then for both of them to live at home with them – anything different, and there is a chance that she could be seen as the person who broke up the family. Moreover, if he does move to Delhi so that she can keep her job and career, he will indeed be moving away from his parents.

Both Aruns doubt that there will be any real long-term animosity or hurt feelings from their parents, whatever choices they make, because – like nearly all parents – theirs are happiest when they see their children happy. Yet these issues do weigh on their minds. Real or imagined, probable or unlikely, as good sons, good future husbands, and good guys, both Aruns wish to find a way to fulfill their parents’ dreams, support the dreams of their future wives, and to satisfy their own. It’s clear that both Aruns have a serious of difficult decisions ahead of them – decisions that I see in my own future also – which means that I will be paying close attention to how they figure things out. It is not, of course, lost on me that they might just be a few important steps ahead of me. One can plan ahead, can’t they?