Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Pen

To our parents' delight and surprise, Benjamin and I are now married -- our names, here in India, Mr. and Mrs. Pen (a mispronunciation of Ben).

Our marriage was quiet, not the traditional raucous way of India with a marching band and wedding parade winding through the streets, with horns wailing and drums beating excitement into the air. Rather, our marriage was one of unceremonious convenience. In a culture where a single woman of my age is considered a sad, pitiful spinster, and in a country where men and women live somewhat segregated lives, it seemed best for us to lie and tell our Indian hosts and friends what they'd prefer to hear, that we are married.

Most coversations here start the same way. They used to go like this:

"What country?"
"California."
"Are you married?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"5 years."
"Children?"
"No."
"Why not?!?"

Now they go like this:

"What country?"
"California. We've been married for 5 years and don't have any children. It's not that we don't like children, but there are just a lot of things - like travel - that we want to do before having kids."

To hear that we have no kids, one might think that the Indian we're speaking with were told that we are allergic to our own skin. The reaction is always one of awe, shock, and mild horror. I don't bother mentioning that I may never have kids, I think that might be too much for our acquaintances to bear.

The way it works here, when a couple gets married, they 'get busy' on the wedding night. A child usually arrives 9 - 12 mos later. There's no reason to wait. Children are important as the culture is built around the family, maybe like America back in its founding days, when children and parents and grandparents all knew each other well, throughout the entirety of their lives, living with or near each other, all pitching in to one single cause: that of the family. In India, family businesses are handed down from one generation to the next and children are expected to take care of their parents when they are old. A child insures there will always be a household income.

Of all the 'boys' we've met -- they call themselves boys when they want to avert some 'manly' duty, but call temselves men when it suits the situation, a dual role of innocence and independance -- of all the 'boys' we've met, none want to get married. When the topic comes up, they assume the innocent role, "Me? Married? (nervous chucckle) No way! I am too young, just a boy..." This said with a practiced smile of sweetness and a coy cock of the head. I've not had the chance to talk with girls/women about their point of view on the matter since being in India, I've not spoken to one Indian female -- they are just not 'available'.

We learned from our friend Rajeesh that boys aren't expected to marry until 25 years of age -- probably about the time that women might be nearing the beginning of the 'danger zone' for spinsterhood. An acquaintance, Azar, told us he won't marry until he's 40 so he can work on his family's business without the distraction of a wife who might want earrings one day, an expensive sari the next... He liked his independance too much for marriage, it could wait until he was done pursuing his interests.

I asked Azar what would happen if, say, his sister felt the same way as he did, wanting a career or a least some freedom instead of marriage. I asked him if it was possible for her to pursue independance like he was. His eyebrows furrowed as if I'd asked him to answer the riddle of the universe.

"Women don't work," he told me, "they stay at home with the children. My sisters's husbands have good jobs, make good money so they are fine. My sisters are happy."

Another usual question in conversation is in regards to the size of our families. Many people appear sorry for Benjamin that he is an only child, as if some great curse was bestowed upon him at birth. Some have offered to be his surrogate brother, so Benjamin does not have to live out a life of solitude in the world. In India, a small family consists of 3 children, so 1 child must seem like a tragic mistake.

I wondered if Indian families were large because when the girls grow up, get married, and move in with their husbands' households, they leave the family... literally. Azar told us that he had 3 brothers and 2 sisters, but later told us he had a family of 5: he, his 2 brothers, and his parents. Apparently when his sisters married and moved out of the house, they were no longer considered or 'counted' as family members per se.

I assumed Azar's sisters' marriages were arranged, a tradition still widely practiced in India, but I didn't get the chance to ask. When we were in Varanasi, I'd read about attitudes towards arranged marriage in the paper. A couple was interviewed -- the husband, a romantic, believed in the strength of passion that a 'love marriage' has. His wife, pragmatic, believed in the durablity of an arranged marriage. She felt that more 'love marriages' ended in divorce (uncommon as they are in India). I was surprised that the husband was for love and the wife was for arrangement because of simplistic male/female stereotypes. I figured that the man would be more inclined to the business aspect of an arranged marriage and the woman would be more inclined to the fairy tale of romantic love in a 'love marriage'.

As for our marriage, that of Mr. and Mrs. Pen, ours is one of both love and arrangement.