CHEMICAL REACTION
What happens when scientists date? Double helix of happiness with Hindu and Jewish weddings
“Some have instant chemistry. We had instant physics.”
Vijay Narasimhan
Toomuch talk about the optical properties of nanostructures could kill a first date— unless the daters in question are studying for advanced degrees in the sciences at Stanford University.
“Some have instant chemistry,” said Vijay Narasimhan. “We had instant physics.”
And so conversation flowed easily between Vijay, now30 andworking on his doctorate in material science and engineering, and Ruth Tennen, now32 and teaching full time at Stanford but then studying how DNA packaging goes awry in cancer cells. That first date got them both thinking— though perhaps not in the sameway. Vijay sent an e-mail expressing his desire to see her again. Ruth said sure, and attached a link to an article related to his topic of study. (He nowhas a patent pending.)
To be fair, itw asn’t strictly science that brought the two together. A parental nudge and OK Cupid played a part. In March 2011, at the behest of Ruth’s parents, Ruth’s sister Deborah filled out a profile for Ruth, and the scientist was encouraged to message someone that very night. Amini red folding bike in Vijay’s photo got Ruth’s attention— along with the fact that he, like Ruth, lived on the Stanford campus. At least a date would be convenient. Ruth did not see herself as the marrying kind, something her dating history had only confirmed: “My experience with dating was that I’d get fed up and move on,” Ruth said.“With most guys, there would be things thatwould annoy me, until I ended it.”
She gave Vijay fairwarning after a few dates. Nonetheless, by December, hewas ready to propose, but scientist that he is, he knew he had only a 5 or 10 percent chance of getting the answer hewanted.
“Ruth is disciplined when I am free-wheeling, she is emotive when I am overly logical, she thinks when I feel impulsive, and she is calm and thorough when I tend to be frenetic,” he said.
But howdo you propose to a woman who doesn’t want to marry? Ayear after their first date, with a yearlong fellowship in Washington, D.C., for Ruth looming, Vijay took a chance. He had a wax mold of a ring fashioned like a telomere (the end of the chromosome that Ruth was studying), andw hile at Muir Beach and on bended knee, he told her, “Whenever you are ready to make this into a ring.”
“Iwasn’t going to say yes right then,” Ruth says now. “I wasmoving for a year, and it seemed like a tricky time. Besides, I just wasn’t sure that getting married was a real thing for me.”
But as her departure date approached, she began to realize how much Vijay had become a part of her life: “Vijay makes me laugh with his Bill Cosby imitations, challenges me to push myself to try newthings, sings ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ when I get stressed and freak out about work, and has more confidence in me than I have inmyself,” she said. “He loves me somuch that I smile every time I think about it.”
They spent their last few weeks together exploring Northern California. They also made plans for him to visit her in D.C.
And then their plans were ruptured. Before his first visit, Vijay was hit by a car while riding his red bike, breaking two bones in his spine. Ruth visited him instead and knew deep downthat she had finally found the one man shewould never grow tired of. She let it be known that the next time he proposed, the answer would be yes.
Vijay let the jeweler know that the wax mold could now be made into a ring. In October 2012, he took Ruth to Paradise Ridge winery in Santa Rosa, which has a sculpture that spells out LOVE. Standing on the O, he handed her a fake iPhone he hadmade with a word puzzle spelling out the magic question and with the telomere ring attached.
Ruth was raised in a Jewish home in Connecticut. Vijay’s parents emigrated from India to Ottawa. Theywere married— twice— on July 13 at Bella Vista of Almaden in San Jose, first by Priest Kasiram Ramakrishna, and then, after an outfit change, by Rabbi Michael Rothbaum.
“Both cultures are so rich with meaning and tradition,” Vijay said.
“We thought itwould be cool for our guests to learn about whatever culture they didn’t knowabout,” Ruth added.
The bride wore a royal blue silk sari with red and gold border, and the groom wore a red
dhoti (wrap) and tan and red sherwani jacket for the Hindu ceremony. He bought both outfits— with her approval via Skype— in Chennai, India, when attending a conference. Both families wore Indian dress for the Hindu ceremony, and changed into Western clothing for the Jewish one, for which the bride wore a tea-length white strapless dress with flip-flops, and the groom wore khakis, an Oxford shirt and a fair-trade yarmulke.
The same canopy served as their chuppah and mandhap. During the Hindu ceremony, they exchanged flower garlands while lifted up by friends and swung on an oonjal (swing) to represent unity while weathering uncertainty. During the Jewish ceremony, they signified their equal partnership by each putting three things of value (representing what theywould bring to the marriage) in a pouch.
The guests said hamotzi (the Jewish blessing over bread) before the Indian buffets, with tandoor and dosa stations.
The bride and groom then donned “Mr.” and “Mrs.” aprons and scooped ice cream for their guests from the brownie/ice cream bar.
In her toast, Deborah explained that the Tennens shared a family trait of being a bit grumpy but always finding a partner to counter the cynicism, saying, “Ruth one-upped all of us: She found Vijay.”