Instead of the traditional white pajamas, I wore a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of regular pants. The people from the villages said to my father, “Has your son come back from a foreign country?” They could tell by my clothing and my light skin unused to the omnipresent sun. My father grinned proudly and said, “Yes, he has come from Amrika after nine years.”
“Very good,” they said, looking at me approvingly and imagining the load of money I must have brought.
During my first few days in Malaudh, my father gave me a stack of one rupee and two rupee notes. He was so happy to have me back that he continually gave me money to give to the poor and well-wishers.
Close to thirty girls answered the ad about me that appeared in the Tribune, an English newspaper in Punjab. My father, brother, and two brothers-in-law helped me select fifteen suitable girls to send detailed responses to, giving my qualifications such as height and weight, appearance, job title, and my family background.
Based upon these details, almost all the parents responded, asking to meet me. My parents did not own a phone, so we corresponded solely through letters. The process was taking too long, but it was out of my hands, so I tried not to get frustrated. After we met each girl and her parents, my father and I told them we would think it through and discuss the matter with my mother. Then we would contact them at a later date.
A few meetings did not go as planned. One day, while my father and I waited at a restaurant for a girl and her father, the father showed up fifteen minutes late without his daughter. “I am not sure why my daughter is not here yet,” the girl’s father said. “She is coming from out of town and said she would be here. Would you like to reschedule the meeting?”
“This will not be appropriate,” my father explained. The girl’s behavior was insulting. “Krishan will be in India for a short time, and he is planning to go back in two or three weeks. It would not work to reschedule.”
The girl must have been reluctant to come, I thought to myself. My time in India was short, and I needed to keep moving forward.
On another occasion, a girl’s parents invited us to a luncheon at their house in Ludhiana. We managed to reach their house on time, despite the difficulty of locating it in an area with no street names. After some conversation in the drawing room, the father stated that his daughter was taking the train from Bhatinda, and the train was late. “Let us start lunch,” he said. “She will arrive any minute.”
An hour later, the girl had still not arrived. The parents seemed shocked, not knowing why their daughter did not come. My father and I felt our time had been wasted, and I suspected the girl might have a boyfriend her parents were not aware of. Dating was not common, but people did meet secretively.
On our way back to Malaudh I told my father not to be disappointed. If we did not find a suitable girl, I would come back the following year. He frowned, displeased with my statement.
When five weeks had passed, I told my parents that I might have to go back soon because I had taken leave from work for only six weeks. My parents were frightened that I might go back alone. They had been fortunate that in the last nine years I had not married an American girl, which was unusual for being in the US so long. If I go back now, I thought, who knows what might happen?
In the meantime, my brother-in-law Vijay Kaura told a family in Patiala about me. They were good friends with my father and thought it would be a good idea to approach my father and me about a relationship with their daughter. The family was well-respected in Patiala and well-to-do financially. Vijay felt good about a relationship maturing with them.
My father and I arrived in Patiala at 8:00 p.m. The family lived in a huge, two-story house. Since the late October weather was not too hot, we all sat in the courtyard. The girl’s father served us Johnnie Walker Black Label scotch, not commonly available in India except among affluent families. I drank it with delight while the girl’s younger sister sang songs for us. After a couple of drinks, we all felt good, and the courtyard transformed into a festive environment. We feasted on pakoras, enjoying the savory fritters of vegetable dipped in spicy chickpea batter, and everyone laughed, told stories, listened to songs recited by the girl’s sister, and did their best to entertain me. I was impressed by this family and enjoyed myself immensely.
After drinks and snacks, the girl joined us for dinner. I tried to catch discreet glimpses of her while trying not to stare in front of her parents and sister. She was slightly on the heavy side. It was hard to get a good look at her, and I was not sure, but it seemed she had a crossed eye. I wondered about this and wished I could get a better look at her without the scrutiny of her parents.
It was midnight by the time we finished dinner and dessert. The girl left right after dinner, and her parents looked at me as if to say, “So what do you think?” As usual, I replied, “We will discuss it with my mother once we get back, and then we will let you know.”
The situation was tricky. Vijay wanted this relationship to develop since
