A Fine Family: A Novel by Gurcharan Das Page B

at them, so poor they couldn’t even feed me in the manner appropriate to such an occasion.’
    Bhabo was naturally up in arms. But Bauji quickly attacked the source of this mischief. He called in the barber and vigorously cross-examined him in Bhabo’s presence. Using his legal skills he got the barber to finally admit that it was a good match, because Tara would be marrying a boy with excellent prospects in life, which was more important than the number of servants and horses his family owned. The barber volunteered that the boy’s family were good people even though they were not rich. Bhabo was finally appeased.
    Although Bhabo was reconciled, Tara was not. After the barber left and the others went upstairs, she said to Bauji, ‘I won’t marry him.’ She tried to appear calm and decisive, but the boldness of the statement surprised her as well. Her dark eyes were stormy, wilful and anxious.
    Bauji could tackle Bhabo and the barber, but Tara, he knew, would be a different matter. He feigned interest in the hookah’s smoke in the dark space in front of his nose. The shadowed shrubs in the courtyard lay awake in the warm lifeless air. From outside the gate came the hoot of an owl. The summer sky was clear and the stars looked inert in the sultry atmosphere. He was vexed at having to conduct negotiations with his own daughter.
    ‘What is the matter?’ he asked gently.
    ‘I won’t marry him,’ she repeated.
    ‘Why?’ he asked.
    ‘He is short, he isn’t good looking, and I don’t like him.’
    ‘First impressions are often wrong. Besides you haven’t talked to him.’
    ‘No, first impressions are always right,’ she said.
    He had the uncomfortable sensation of finding himself in a conversation not to his liking. He did not want to employ the verbal dexterity and guile, which he used in dealing with outsiders. He had always been open and affectionate with his favourite daughter. But tonight he found it tiresome to try to persuade her as well. There was a time, he thought with regret, when he could say anything that came into his mind. And everyone accepted his words and behaviour unquestioningly. Children were expected to be obedient and respectful, and did not oppose their parents blatantly. It was a matter of good breeding. But Tara had always been independent and ever since she went to college the problem had become more serious. Bhabo had of course warned him. She had constantly been opposed too much schooling for the girls. It was he who had stubbornly persisted in educating his daughters, especially in the English language. He now looked at Tara’s face, and he remembered that he liked her precisely because she did not submit easily. Her sisters, in contrast, were quick to compromise and to comply. Bhabo had felt that he over-valued this characteristic in Tara. Ironically, at this moment he sought precisely the opposite virtue—obedience and submission.
    ‘There is much more to marriage, young lady,’ he said. ‘He is a good boy, and he will take good care of you.’
    ‘Why can’t I marry someone I know?’
    ‘Child, we usually have to marry someone we do not know. Look at Bhabo and me: we did not know each other; look at your older brother; look at all our relatives and friends. It has always been that way.’
    ‘All those marriages haven’t been so wonderful, have they? None of you are good companions. You hardly ever speak to Bhabo.’
    The girl was going too far, thought Bauji. No one else would have dared to speak to him like this. What position was she in to judge the marriages of those older than her? But he did not want to get into that.
    ‘Young lady, don’t you worry about our marriage. We have had four children who are healthy, and we are prosperous. Thank you.’
    ‘But how much better would it have been if you and Bhabo had grown up together, known each other and been friends before marriage,’ argued Tara.
    ‘Who were you thinking of marrying?’ asked Bauji suddenly.
    ‘No