were dispatched to purchase it, whilst the horoscopes of the proposed bride and groom were discussed and compared.
Anasuyabehn was not a gossip; she had no reason to suspect anything. Even Savitri, her best friend, who might have told her, knew no one else amongst the Jain community and, busy with her work as a chemist in a cotton mill, heard nothing.
Skilfully the old lady spun threads of praise and flattery between the unsuspecting fathers – the wily old moneylender, who was busy trying to rid his family of most of the taint of moneylending and to gain instead a reputation as a jeweller and financier of integrity, and the absent-minded scholar, who, having inspected and spoken to Mahadev, liked him very much. There were times, not so long since, thought Dean Mehta ironically, when neither of them would have dreamed of speaking to the other, but many things were permissible nowadays – the walls between the castes were crumbling down, and Dean Mehta was quite prepared to give them a helping push.
Once Dean Mehta asked his sister, ‘Is Anasuyabehn content about this marriage?’
‘Oh, she has all the foolish ideas of a young girl – but she will appreciate a good man. She agrees that the family in this generation is becoming a most worthy one – and she has been most interested in my stories of Mahadev.’
‘Ah,’ said her brother, a little relieved. ‘I’m content, as long as she has no antipathy to the match.’
‘None at all, none at all,’ said Aunt, with considerably more conviction than she really had. She hoped fervently that all her propaganda directed towards her unsuspecting niece was having sufficient effect to ensure an affirmative answer when the time came.
As she became further committed, the horrid thought of how other women of the family would snigger behind their hands at her, if she failed, began to haunt her – they might even suggest that she was, with advancing years, losing her skill, and that would be hard to bear. She put these thoughts firmly behind her; dear Anasuyabehn should have a wonderful marriage – and all through her aunt’s sagacity.
The day on which Mahadev would make a formal visit to his prospective bride’s family drew near. Unfortunately, his aunt had to return to Baroda to nurse a sick son, so it was understood that Mahadev would be accompanied by his brother and sister-in-law.
That morning, Anasuyabehn’s aunt hinted to her that her father had a well-to-do and charming suitor in mind for her. Anasuyabehn, who had done little else but dream about the new, unmarried Professor of Zoology, ever since she had seen him from the roof of her father’s bungalow, asked with interest, ‘Who is he?’
‘Ah-ha,’ responded Aunt, all cheerful coyness. ‘Your father will tell you in due course.’
Anasuyabehn could not think of any particularly eligible man who had swung into their orbit recently, other than Tilak, and she smiled happily.
Aunt had informed her brother that all was now arranged. The first gifts had been exchanged, and Aunt explained, ‘I locked them in the almira, so that they will be a nice surprise for Anasuyabehn, when you tell her that the final arrangements have been made.’
The Dean smiled. He liked the idea of giving his daughter a pleasant surprise. He had been extremely busy, because the enrolment in his Faculty had increased markedly that term, and he had hardly exchanged a word with his daughter for weeks. He felt that he really must now talk to her about her marriage, though his sister, he was sure, would already have discussed everything with her. He opened his study door, and called, ‘Daughter, come here.’
‘Well,’ he greeted her, as she entered a little apprehensively. ‘This is a happy day for us, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, father,’ she answered submissively, masking a tumult of anxiety in her heart.
Aunt shuffled in behind her and sank on to the couch.
Dean Mehta sat down in his desk chair and took his daughter’s hand. ‘Well, now, are we quite happy at the idea of leaving our old father and going to a fine, young husband?’
Anasuyabehn did not know how to reply, and raised her heavily kohled eyes to her father.
Finally she said, ‘I don’t want to leave you, father – but I know it is time I was married.’
‘Good, good. You won’t be going far from me, anyway.’
He contemplated his daughter benignly. A placid, obedient girl, educated and yet without the flighty ideas of some of the women students on the campus. He beamed at her with satisfaction, while she waited with as much patience as she could muster. Then she said, in reply to his remark, ‘That will be nice, father.’ After all, Tilak would probably remain for years at this university.
Dean Mehta dug his key chain out of his pocket and selected a key, which he handed to his sister, while he nodded his bald head in amiable agreement.
‘Get the parcels out of the cupboard,’ he instructed her, and Aunt creaked to her feet to do so. Anasuyabehn watched her with pleasant anticipation, willing to go along with their desire to tease her gently.
‘The Desais have sent some beautiful gifts,’ said her father, as he watched his sister bring out a number of bundles.
‘The Desais?’ Anasuyabehn looked at him with blank incomprehension.
Dean Mehta glanced quickly at her, startled by the surprise in her voice. She was looking at him as if she had suddenly discovered a corpse.
‘Yes – Mahadev,’ he said.
Anasuyabehn sank into the visitor’s chair by her father’s desk, dazed by the shock. Far away, she could hear her father’s voice, but the only word she really heard was Mahadev. She was so aghast that it seemed to her that she never would take breath again; however, her aunt evidently turned the fan towards her, because she felt the breeze on her face. Gradually, the world took shape again. Out of the mist loomed her father’s face, full of anxiety, and his voice boomed into her ears.
‘Dear child,’ he said, full of self-reproach. ‘I kept you standing too long on this hot day. Let Aunt give you some water.’
Aunt had already poured a glassful from his carafe, and she held it to the girl’s lips. For once, the old woman could not think of anything to say.
Anasuyabehn sipped obediently, and life flooded furiously back into her. All her aunt’s gossip of the previous few weeks came back to her and fell neatly into place.
‘Marry a moneylender?’ she gasped scornfully. ‘Oh, no, father. No!’ The last word came out in a wail.
Dean Mehta looked at her in some astonishment.
‘He’s hardly a moneylender, child. He’s a big financier. Desai Sahib and his associates put up no less than half the money for the new chemical works at Baroda. Anyway, I thought you wanted to marry Mahadev.’
‘Why should I think of marrying him?’ Anasuyabehn asked, through angry tears.
‘Your aunt assured me that you wanted to.’
‘When I spoke of him,’ interposed her aunt hastily, ‘you agreed what a nice family they were. You made no criticism whatever.’
‘I never thought of marrying one of them,’ retorted the girl. She dabbed her eyes with the end of her sari.
Dean Mehta looked at his sister, and demanded sharply, ‘What’ve you been doing? Didn’t you ask her?’ He seemed suddenly fierce.
Aunt looked uncomfortable. Her mouth opened and shut, as she searched for a reply. She had not expected serious opposition from Anasuyabehn, once her father was committed to the match. She thought the girl would accept fairly contentedly the prospect of such a fine, rich bridegroom.
Anasuyabehn’s faintness had passed and