“Dadi!” Riya rolled her beautiful eyes and sighed exasperatingly. “You really don’t know what a real adventure is! It is great to experience the unknown… jumping from heights and racing in water with the spray on your face…” She tossed her luxuriant hair with great abandon and said, “Granny, you have not lived life at all!” She concluded with her 17- year- old wisdom.

Riya and her paternal grandmother were great friends, but they argued a lot much to the distress of her parents. The latest argument started at dinner time when Riya announced that a group of adventure lovers were planning to visit a camp the coming weekend. As expected, her grandmother voiced her disapproval and also commented about the non-safety of the whole proceeding leading to another argument and the uncharitable remark.

“Little do you know, young lady!’ was the older woman’s sharp repartee. “You all call the guided adventure as real adventure!” She guffawed, leading to a scowl from her granddaughter and a sigh from her daughter-in-law and her son.

“What adventure? You are just pulling my leg. You married young and that too in an arranged marriage setting. Eesh! So, where is the adventure?”

“Arranged marriage is an adventure, young lady.” The older woman said sharply, “Particularly when you are a pawn in a gamble.”

“What!” There was only one explosion as the older two had heard the story many times with varying degrees of exaggeration by the older woman… and after a pause, “à la Draupadi?” asked the young girl, aghast.

“Well, my father was no king, and he was no gentleman. He played every night and gambled away my mother’s jewels, our land, and our house, too. He had nothing to gamble, and one day, he used me as a pawn and he lost to my father-in-law.”

“You married a much older man?” Riya was aghast.

“Don’t be a daft! His son… your grandfather, an army officer, had seen me one day in a village fair and had fallen in love with me. He had told his father that he would marry none other than me.” Looking at the skeptical look from her granddaughter, she testily remarked, “I was beautiful… that is what he used to always say.” She ended going a deep red.

Riya chuckled, looking at her grandmother, who was blushing like a new bride. “Your father-in-law or grandpa?” she asked naughtily, earning a clip in her ear.

“Well, my father had no qualms, and he gave me up readily, though my mother was terrified for me.” She said, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she remembered her fragile mother who could not say boo to a sheep, leave alone her ‘worthless’ husband.

“But, weren’t you scared?” she glanced at her parents, who too were mesmerized by her story as she was, though they had heard it a hundred times.

“Well, I was, and I wasn’t.” Explaining her cryptic remark, she added, “You know, girls had to marry one day and leave her house… that was the rule. So, I knew I had to, but I always thought that my new home would be in the same village or neighbouring one… Here, I had to go miles away from my known territory. Now, young lady, this is an adventure for you.”

Riya was silent. She could not think of such courage, knowing very well that travelling in those days was tedious and it took an inordinately long time considering the expense and the options involved.

“Well…”, after a pause as she took in the trepidation that must have been with granny, yet refused to budge just to irritate the old dear, “It was Dada! You couldn’t have done better!” she distinctly remembered the handsome, jovial man with a booming voice. Moreover, she did not want to concede defeat to her grandmother just on principle!

“But I did not know him, right? He could have been as bad as my father, a cheat, a previously married man… But then, he was none of the above. I couldn’t have been luckier.” She said dreamily.

Riya glanced at her parents, who were looking at each other warmly. She squirmed, thinking how she always scoffed at arranged marriages, and here were two examples of such marriages that had been a great success.

“But, I was terrified. I did not know the ways of the world, made an utter fool of myself in company and was extremely rigid,” she stopped at the snicker of her granddaughter, and said sharply, “you don’t know the half of it young woman… you test the patience of even a saint!”

Riya looked repentant. She loved her cranky grandmother and liked to goad her, but she smiled endearingly and the older woman continued, “He was a husband, a guide, a friend, and a philosopher to me and I was terrified that such good days would end, particularly when he went to fight the war.”

“But, grandfather always used to say how strong you were and single-handedly brought up two small children when he was away at the front,” Riya said, remembering the tales told by her grandfather.

“Yes, I put up a good front. But I was scared, terrified. I knew the language spoken by the natives, but I was not fluent enough to voice my innermost fears and then the fear was so strong that the entire womenfolk spent mostly in the prayer room. There were so many deaths… so much loss, and as the days went by, my prayers intensified. At the army base, we were all a big family, yet the air was gloomy.”

Her eyes reflected the agony, the loneliness of war widows, and Riya felt her eyes sting at the thought of the lonely young woman with two small children to take care of and that too, with little emotional support.

“I agree with dada, you are strong!’ She said softly.

“That is adventure for you, the adventure of the unknown… and when the war ended, your grandfather came back to me … to us; gaunter, older, unhappier thinking of the lost lives and the lives he could not save, but I selfishly thanked God for the miracle that he was with me, holding me. I vowed I would slowly erase the unhappiness from his eyes. And I did. We went on to produce two more children.” She said, glaring at Riya and daring her to defy.

“… And help increase India’s population,” Riya said earning herself another clip on her ears. Laughing, she got up to hug her grandmother. “I hate to accept defeat, but you are right. Compared to your times, we really are chickens.”

 

This post was created for the Blogaberry Creative (Monthly) Challenge.