As Sweet as Honey

54




It would be nice to come here each summer, Mum.”

Oscar played with a loose thread on his shirt as he said this. Swiftly, Meterling snapped it off, and then tousled his hair.

“Why do people do that? To my hair?”

“They’re just showing affection. Do you really want to come back each year?”

“Yeah. Great-Grandmum is getting old, and I think it’s important to see her. Plus, I like it.”

“How about moving here? See her all the time?”

“Mum.”

Meterling sighed. “You really want to learn karate?”

“Yes.”

Arrangements were being made to invite Nalani’s friends the Krishnaswamis and their son Laksman over to the house. Grandmother got a new sari for the occasion, and as in the old days, all of us were told to behave properly and dress nicely. Sanjay and I still couldn’t understand Rasi’s reasoning, and went to seek Aunt Meterling’s thoughts. We found her looking at Oscar’s painting of the ferry, which Grandmother had framed and hung near drawing models of Grandfather’s buildings and photographs of our ancestors. A large portrait of Lakshmi, shimmering and seated on her lotus, faced a portrait of Saraswati playing her sitar. Oscar’s watercolor looked good; for all his trouble, he got all the details.

Aunt Meterling continued to surprise me. When we asked her if Rasi was being foolish for agreeing to meet this boy, she smiled.

“Why foolish?” she asked.

I never could keep a secret from Meterling.

“So that’s her plan?” she said when I told her. “Well, I wouldn’t worry, you two. I hear he’s a very good boy, has lots of prospects.”

“Auntie?”

“Ah, you think because I married Simon, I’d be against arranged marriage. Not at all. I think we have a selection process that’s been in place for thousands of years, and it has held its own.”

“But so many things can go wrong.”

“Of course. But that’s true of all marriages. When Archer’s sister, Susan, first got married, she had a terrible time adjusting. She used to spend nights at our house, weeping in my arms. But after the initial shock of sharing space—things like finding dirty socks carelessly strewn about, or even other more irritating habits—you get over it. Susan did.”

“So her marriage worked out, then.”

“Well, her second marriage has. The first husband turned out to be a philanderer. She’s doing very well now, I think.”

Sanjay and I glanced at each other.

“Look,” she said, “nobody knowingly wants his or her child to marry badly. That’s why backgrounds are checked and horoscopes consulted. Of course, I’m not talking about dowry.”

Or sati, which is all anyone wanted to talk about at my university, even as our parents insisted that the ancient texts never required it.

I thought of the story of Kanyakumari. She was a good role model, a warrior who helped her people. I always thought of Rasi as a warrior, keeping Sanjay and me from harm. Maybe I would have to become a warrior as well. I don’t know why that thought occurred to me, but it had a nice ring to it. It was funny, though, that Rasi was going about her ordinary life, and somewhere, perhaps a mixed-up rooster had crowed. Bad timing and a preplanned life crept back like a wave returning to the shore, while a new suitor and a new life appeared.