A Pragmatic Proposal

When I was a little girl, I didn't dream very much about getting married. I dreamed of being a cat, a cheerleader, a famous painter or a lawyer - but never gave to much thought to being someone's wife. Maybe because I grew up around many women who were ex-wives - I just didn't see a whole lot of appeal in the idea of marriage.

As I got older, I fell in love with the idea of love - thought I found it a few times, and definitely lost it a few times too. I started to think I should be married - and even came really close to it once in my early twenties. 

I never really allowed myself to dream of or expect a fantasy proposal. However, I didn't roll my eyes at people who had the amazing stories to tell - one I'll never forget: a sorority sister's boyfriend presented her with a Bible with her name + his last name embossed on the cover during a quiet candlelight dinner. Sure, it's a little saccharin sweet, but he put some serious effort and thought into that proposal (they're still married). Even my own mother was proposed to in perpetually romantic Paris, after I was grown and almost out of the house (stepdad probably did not expect for me to hang around as long as I did in the end!). But again, I never dreamed of this for myself. 

And it's probably a good thing. 

Here's how my "proposal" went down:

Late afternoon, December 2009, front seat of a few-years-old VW. Mayur had come to visit me the week before Christmas. We'd just left the grocery store, and were heading back to my apartment to cook dinner. 

This is the best approximation of the conversation that I can remember 2.5 years later:

Mayur: So, you know how you're going to India next month?

Cora: Yes...

Mayur: Well, I think I'll also go.

Cora: Ok - you want to go to my coworker's wedding with me?

Mayur: No, no, can't do that. But listen, you should plan to come to meet my parents, and if they're ok with it, we'll go ahead and get married. 

Cora: Whaaaaaaaaat?

We went home, cooked and ate dinner, then sat under the tree and opened our presents (for the record, I did get some diamonds in my stocking, but they were for my ears and not my finger. And they were buried underneath all the other surprisingly awesome presents Mayur had picked up at LAX on his way to Texas). I was still slightly confused - were we engaged? Half engaged? Maybe engaged if and only if people I've never met and don't share a common language with like me? 

This would not stand. He was going to have to jump through some hoops too. If you've read previous posts here you know that my father had passed away two years prior, so going to ask my dad for my hand was out. But he sure as heck could ask my mom and stepdad, and I intended to make him do it. 

That night, I called my mother and asked if we could come out to have lunch the following day. I NEVER did the random visit (yes, kicking myself now that the drive to LAX ALONE could take me two hours now...miss my mama) thing when I lived in Texas, so I figured they would suspect something was up. But no, it just all seemed fairly normal to them, and they were simply pleased we were visiting. 

The next morning we got up with the sun and made the two-hour drive, all the while me trying to explain this cultural tradition from my part of the world to him. If I was going to fly half way around the world and subject myself to inspection, he could certainly deal with one uncomfortable conversation. 

We arrived, and after the typical greetings and pleasantries, he signaled that I should make myself scarce. After several minutes, my mother came to the room where I was sitting - I thought to congratulate me, but instead she asked me, "What is he talking about? We're kinda confused." I didn't want to spoil the moment, so I told her to get back to the other room and be patient with him. 

Eventually the communication kinks straightened out, we got approval and I think some Mexican food, then piled back into the car to head home. I felt happy, but still kind of sad, because I couldn't tell anyone yet due to the aforementioned inspection in India issue. 

And wouldn't you know it? I get in the car, check my Blackberry for messages, and there it is: a ginormous multi-carat thing of beauty staring back up at me. One of my best friends - the first person from my world who met Mayur, incidentally - had gotten engaged that very night. 

So even though I was never really jealous of other people's proposals - that night, I kind of was. Not because of the awesomely cute story that went along with Melissa's engagement or even that gorgeous piece of jewelry - but because she could share that story and show off that ring. Her socially-acceptable-by-both-sides relationship was something that everyone in her family and in his felt happy about. 

Still kind of makes me sad to think about this, but...then I remember that I have the pleasure of hassling my husband ALL THE TIME about his ridiculous pragmatic proposal. 

Going With It

OK! I believe my blogging break has been quite long enough. It's time for me to wrap up the back story here and start sharing some of the stories from the last couple of years.

After we attended the conference in Chicago, things sort of started moving really quickly. Maybe too quickly for me? But I knew that I had to go with the flow and accept things as they came along, because any chance that I got at establishing something real with this boy was likely going to be my one and only. So I went with it.

A friend of mine at work was going with it too. After a month-long trip to India to visit his family earlier in the year, he came back with a few digital pictures of a very pretty girl - and a wedding date. I suppose he didn't really think any of us would take it seriously when he invited us, but a quiet buzz started floating around the office. Should we go? Who can afford it? How many of us can leave work at the same time?

I checked the points balance on my American Express account, and quickly realized that I had way more than enough points to not only get to India and back - but to even throw in a stopover in Europe on the way. Then there were all the hotel points - wow - this could mean a couple of nights at the Taj in Bombay too? And a nice hotel in Amsterdam? Slowly, I began to realize that I really could go on this vacation, I could make it my dream trip, and yes - all those years of back and forth travel across the US were finally going to pay off.

In the end, two of my colleagues and I decided we were serious, and let our betrothed friend know that a small army of Texans (well, three Texans and two midwestern transplants) would be showing up in Gujarat to experience a full-on traditional Hindu wedding from the front lines.

At that point, I just wanted to Go To India - I had no notions of pulling off any miracle passes with Mayur's family - I had no notions of even meeting them. Though things were going well with our relationship, I still didn't think that there were going in the same direction as, say, things with my coworker and his pretty new fiancé.

But I underestimated the power of the woman that would become my sister-in-law - and of the boy that would become my husband.

NaNoWriMo is Over!

And I did complete my 50,000 words. Hooray! My wrists are quite sore from spending entirely too much time on the computer, but it was worth it. I'm about half way done with the story I started there, and will carry on with writing it after the first of the year. For now, I'm going to get back to this real-life story here!

Tumbleweeds

I can see them floating around here...

My silence as of late can be attributed to a week-long unexpected work trip, and the fact that I am knee-deep in NaNoWriMo. It's my first time doing it, after years of saying I was going to do it. Eleven days left, and a little over 25,000 words to go. I know I can do it, but I am sure grateful that I have a nice, long four-day weekend coming up to do the final stretch. I plan to put the NaNoWriMo.pages (yep, got a shiny new MacBook Air in celebration of my first NaNo) away for the whole month of December, then read it again in the new year to see if it's worth revising and messing with any further.

I've spent most of my writing - and blogging - career writing non-fiction, and am finding the freedom associated with fiction writing to be quite exhilarating. At the same time, I am constantly fighting the urge to fact check myself; I'm generally having a hard time just letting go and letting my creativity flow. I'm getting there, though.

Technology, Literature, and Rock and Roll

A couple of months after Mayur's surgery, he asked me if I could take a day or two off of work to attend a conference with him in Illinois. It would be the annual alumni meeting for the network of Indian Institutes of Technology (IIT). These are universities in India that focus heavily on math, science, and engineering, and are notoriously difficult to get into. I first learned about IIT when reading The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman. I didn't know much about IIT, but when I was telling my parents about Mayur and my very low-key but very high-tech stepdad got excited and impressed, I figured the school must mean something good.

The alumni conference is held every year, rotating between the US and India. Since the event would be held in the US that year, Mayur decided he wanted to go, and wanted me to attend with him. All talk of 'something happening' in India had pretty much ceased since his surgery. My coworker and dear friend Glenna told me that the way I took care of him was 'something only a wife would do' - I told Mayur this and I think he took it to heart. A good sign. I took it as another good sign that he wanted to bring me along to an event where a lot of people he knew - including one of his cousins - would be in attendance.

I wanted to go even more after I checked out the sponsor and speaker list. My CEO happens to have the same degree from the same IIT as Mayur, and thus my company was sponsoring the event. My CEO would also be speaking. I figured this would be a good opportunity to get a few minutes with the leader of my firm; he would always remember the gori employee who showed up at his alumni meeting with a fellow graduate, right?

He arrived in Chicago before me, so I met him at the hotel after a quick flight and a long cab ride in the snow. After I checked into the hotel and changed into my business attire, I made my way to the conference registration area to check in. The curious looks started pretty much immediately. People tried to place me, tried to figure out why I was there. Even amongst the exhibitors there were only desi folks. Sticking out like a sore thumb doesn't even begin to describe how I felt and must have looked there.

Even in a somewhat uncomfortable setting I can usually hold my own. I'm a very social and outgoing person and like talking to strangers (much to my mother's dismay). So I didn't mind as Mayur and I split up to attend different sessions according to our areas of interest. We were just boyfriend and girlfriend at the time, so when anyone asked I usually said I was there since my company was a sponsor. There were a few people who I had conversations with that made me feel comfortable enough to tell them I was there with my boyfriend. Many people were there with their spouses so it wasn't too unusual that a non-IIT grad was attending. Since then we have attended many Indian/desi-centric conferences and I have found that this is usually the case (spouses attend).

The mealtimes were the most fun because we could sit together and talk about what we had learned and seen. During the first lunch, I met Mayur's cousin, Asif, who lived in another part of the US. I was so nervous - my first time meeting an actual relative from back home! He was incredibly nice and we spent quite a lot of time together. I also met my CEO who was nice as well, if a little shocked and confused to find one of his employees from Texas was attending the conference.

I attended my favorite session on the final day. A small session was organized for the group of alumni who were published writers or wished to become published writers. About 25 people sat in the room, the tables in a horse shoe arrangement so everyone could see everyone else. The leader of the group was an incredibly dynamic woman, an early graduate of one of the first IITs, and a published writer several times over. As everyone settled, she looked at me and said, "Ok - let's just get this out now; who are you and why are you here?" It came out much nicer than it sounds now! Everyone kind of laughed - especially me. I explained that my company and CEO were involved with the event, and that I had noticed that a group of writers were meeting and could not pass up the opportunity to meet with what I was sure would be a really interesting group of people.

I was welcomed with open arms by the group (especially after I told them I had more than a decade of experience as a professional writer and editor). As everyone introduced themselves I heard two dozen takes on a common theme: I dreamed of being a writer, but my parents dreamed of raising an engineer. Some were into poetry, some wrote fiction, many wrote books about the kind of work they did. I listened to everyone's stories, and all the discussion of various topics including genres, getting published, and following your passion. At the end of the meeting, the group leader passed a sign-up sheet around the room for an email list where everyone could keep in touch. I looked up at her when the paper got to me - I wasn't sure if I would be allowed to join. She smiled and told me I was one of them now. I still get those email digests every week to this day.

The final night of the conference was one of the  most fun of my life. The cocktail hour was abuzz with talk of the night's keynote speaker - former President Bill Clinton. I'd seen Clinton speak before, so I knew we were in for a treat. The event's organizers were not sure of the exact moment that President Clinton would arrive, and knew that he would have a very limited amount of time to stay. Suddenly, people were coming through the crowd enjoying our cocktails, telling us we had five minutes to get into the main room for Clinton's speech. They would be closing the doors whether everyone was inside or not - the room would have to be secured before he could enter the facility.

We made our way to our seats and adjusted our chairs for the best possible view of the podium. As President Clinton entered the room,  I realized I was no longer the only non-Indian in the room! His speech was not  at all political, and was only about giving back to the global community after you've found success. He talked about his foundation, and the work they are doing in Haiti (this was before the earthquake). He said he turned down his usual speaking fee for this event, because he was himself excited at the prospect of having a captive audience made up of so many industry leaders. Even in our cheap seats in the back with the other not-so-important people, I felt really happy to be there.

After the speech and dinner, the evening got even more fun. Indian singer Kailash Kher put on an amazing show, and we had the chance to speak to him for a while afterwards. During the concert I had my first experience of Indian dancing. I could not stop laughing as my boyfriend danced with other guys. I still laugh every time I see this. I am absolutely not the world's greatest dancer, so I don't judge, but I do find this form of dancing really funny.

Once the music ended I was more than ready to get out of my heels and into my sweatpants. As we made our way to the elevator up to our room something stopped us. There were a group of about a dozen people crowded around a piano, singing a Beatles song. I could not resist joining in (I am a sucker for anything remotely related to karaoke, choir, or any kind of group singing). We all sang until our voices could take no more. I went to bed that night feeling exhausted, hopeful, and accepted by at least part of Mayur's world and life before he knew me.

My First Ally

As we entered the hospital, I could tell Mayur was scared. Parking had been mildly stressful - his car is a lot bigger than mine, thus is harder for me to park. But, I managed to find a space after dropping him off closer to the door. I collected my stack of magazines and laptop - my entertainment for the day (oh how I wish the iPad had existed then...) and headed up to the waiting room entrance. I found Mayur, we registered at the front desk, and within minutes he was going back to prep for surgery.

The last thing he did before he left the waiting area was to take the giant gold and emerald ring off his finger and place it on mine, since he couldn't wear it during surgery. I looked at the beautiful stone, fantasizing that it was an engagement ring - that it meant something for me to be wearing it.

After he had been prepped and partially drugged, a nurse led me back to sit with my very loopy and funny boyfriend until he went back for surgery. He showed me his shaved leg, they handed me his bag of clothes and belongings, and I stood in the small space between his hospital bed and the curtain separating him from  a woman who was about to go in for gastric bypass (I'd end up spending the entire day with her daughter and gastric-bypass-support-group friend). Finally, it was his turn, and I headed back to the waiting room.

No Internet, so working or wasting time online were out. I read all my magazines, shifted in my chair, and checked the time on my Blackberry over and over and over. After several hours, the doctor came out and called me over. Everything went fine. He was still asleep, and they would come get me when he woke up.

So this was it. I promised Mayur that as soon as the doctor told me all was well, I would call his sister. I packed up my things, grabbed my Blackberry, and walked out to a sunny afternoon. I was terrified as I looked up the entry for 'Didi' in my address book. As soon as I pressed the green button to connect the call, I could feel my blood pressure rising, my hands starting to sweat. The phone rang...and rang...and went to voicemail! I couldn't believe it. Just like with her baby brother's voicemail, I was greeted by a computerized female voice telling me the number of the voicemail box I had reached. My voice shook a little as I left a message with my number asking her to call me back.

My phone got zero reception inside the building, and I would have gotten in trouble for taking a call in there anyway, so I stayed outside, pacing back and forth in front of the hospital. I read and responded to a few work emails, and waited for my phone to ring.

When it finally did, I got really, really nervous again. I really shouldn't have been. His sister's voice was the most soothing thing I think I have ever heard. She seemed genuinely happy to talk to me. I think I even told her that she sounded just like her brother, only a girl. At that time, I had only met a couple of Mayur's friends from college - nobody from his home city or state. I had other Indian friends, but they were all from the south, spoke a different language, and had a totally different accent. It was funny to hear someone else talk with the same vocal quirks I had come to enjoy in Mayur's speech.

Cart Photo from Sodahead.com

We spoke for about 10 minutes. I assured her that the surgery had gone perfectly, and that we had an army of friends lined up to help get Mayur to his room and situated comfortably. I asked her what I should feed him - what their mom would have fed him if she were there. After we ended the call, I realized I was starving and walked across the street to get a giant cup of lime-and-chili'd-up fruit from the cart guy who works the area near the hospital. I am obsessed with these fruit carts and definitely felt I was treating myself to a reward after successfully making it through my first 'meeting' with one of Mayur's relatives.

I wish I had known at the time what a big deal that phone call had actually been, because it would have saved me a lot of misery over the following six months. I'd made my first ally. If you would've told me then that barely more than a year later the woman with the soothing voice and cute accent would be my sister-in-law, I would have called you a big ol' liar.

If Something Has to Happen

I had learned to hate the sound of his telephone ringing. It wasn't that his family called him a lot, but there are a lot of family members, so the calls were fairly frequent. Every time that phone would ring, I could tell right away if it was someone from his family. He would of course begin speaking in Hindi, and his whole tone and mood would change. In turn, my mood would change too. One of us would usually leave the room during the call, and I would immediately shut down and become pensive. No matter what kind of fun situation we were in at the time, the reminder of, well, the reality of things, would ruin it.

He told me so many things.

• My parents' religious beliefs require that I marry in the way they want
• I am never getting married, not even to you
• We won't get married, but will just stay together secretly forever (this one got a big NO)
• If things were to work out, would you be able to move wherever my career takes us? (He works in IT)

and, the worst one:

• If 'something has to happen' (code for: if my parents force the arranged issue and put forth some sort of ultimatum that involves me being cut out of the family or worse unless I agree to the plan) I promise to let you know well in advance.

At some point, this 'something' seemed to become more likely, and, I think around January of 2009, he told me that 'something' might have to happen that summer. For all intents and purposes, we had set a breakup date. It sucked. A lot of my friends were getting engaged/married, and here I was with a damn breakup date. I am having a hard time even believing I stuck around after reading this, but, I guess in some place of my mind I held out hope that things would turn out differently. You just never know what fate has in store for you, right?

Mayur was very close with his roommates at this point; he spent a lot of time with them. One activity they liked was sports, and they all decided to join a softball team. Mayur's tenure on the team lasted exactly one game, but this one game would totally change everything for us.

I was down in South Texas that weekend working, and was pretty busy so at first I didn't really notice that I hadn't heard from Mayur at all that Saturday. But as the afternoon started to wind down and he wasn't replying to my text messages, I got a little worried. Finally, he called me - from the hospital!

He told me that he'd gotten really hurt playing softball. Someone ran into him, hard, and twisted him around in such a way that his knee seemed to just snap. He passed out, came to, and couldn't stand up. His friends took him to the ER where he was told that he was definitely going to need to see a specialist and would likely need surgery.

A couple of doctor appointments and an MRI later, the need for surgery was confirmed. He'd need six weeks off work, and would absolutely require help for some time just getting around after the surgery. I made arrangements to take a week off of work, and headed to California to accompany him at the hospital and play nursemaid for a week or so after.

This was pretty major surgery, involving being put under completely and not being able to drive or walk after. Needless to say, his family was aware of the surgery and were very scared, especially since they thought he was out here all on his own. The morning of the surgery, Mayur told me to save a number into my Blackberry.

"Call my sister in New Jersey after the surgery is over and let her know I'm ok," he told me.

I was pretty shocked - I asked him if he was sure he wanted me to do that? How would I explain who I was? I didn't know it, but he already had...