A painting and the tale of a matrimonial quest
The painting adorning my bedroom wall has three horsemen, their faces barely visible as their heads are bent forward with the galloping speed of the horses. A young woman painted it with broad spatula strokes about 40 years ago. What became of that girl and how this painting ended up on my wall? Thereby hangs a fateful tale.
I joined the bank service in a sleepy Himachal town sometime in 1973. In those days, bankers were sought after in the matrimonial market. Stray marriage proposals kept dropping in my life, too. I ignored them all as I had strict, somewhat idealistic, priorities regarding my prospective life partner. But one offer came through a close friend who used to join me on drinks almost every third evening. One of his acquaintances, an apple orchardist, was looking for a match for his sister and my name had been dropped in. I felt vaguely interested.
A meeting was arranged one evening to discuss the matter. The ice was broken after the first round of drinks. The orchardist talked about his sister. She was an architect doing a government job, homely, talented, not beautiful, but understanding and compassionate. I also placed all my cards on the table and asked for permission to meet the girl so that we could get to know each other and decide. Nothing doing, the orchardist’s response was a pointblank refusal. Theirs was a traditional family; they could not allow such a meeting. Thus, we reached a deadlock. We had a few more rounds of drinks; the orchardist became a good friend. We forgot all about his sister or the matter of marriage.
A year rolled by. I was transferred to Shimla and my freewheeling bachelor existence and the hunt for life partner continued as usual. Some proposals did come my way and I also got chance to interview a few girls. But nothing clicked. Perhaps, my parameters for a suitable girl were too idealistic to be met in reality. In one instance, I did meet a girl closest to my dreams. Her parents had approached me and arranged a date for us. We talked for almost three hours sipping coffee at Shimla’s legendary The Devicos restaurant. Almost all my stipulations for the ideal match got ticked. But at the end, she coyly told me that her romantic interest lay elsewhere and hesitantly requested me to turn down the proposal. In another instance, I went all the way to Dehradun to encounter a girl in response to a matrimonial advertisement. She came to meet me with her own list of priorities and found me woefully lacking in most of her expectations.
I was almost on the verge of exasperation in my pursuit when, one evening, a friend took me to a painting exhibition at Gaiety Theatre. As if being swayed by the winds blowing from the future, I found myself standing before and admiring the canvas depicting the three horsemen. I wanted to buy the painting, but the organisers told me that it was not for sale. I made enquiries about the artist. She was a girl from an orchardist family working in a government architectural organisation. The name sounded familiar. All the pieces of the jigsaw fitted. I rang up my friend at the sleepy Himachal town and asked him to tell his orchardist friend that Barkis is willing! He knew his Charles Dickens well enough to understand my point.
So that is how the painting and its creator landed in my life, the former being my most prized possession and the latter the luckiest thing that happened to me in my whole existence. This episode made me realise that we don’t have any freedom of choice in our lives. Everything is preordained – our births, our deaths, our spouses too!
SHE WAS AN ARCHITECT DOING A GOVERNMENT JOB, HOMELY, TALENTED, NOT BEAUTIFUL, BUT UNDERSTANDING AND COMPASSIONATE