Geetanjali Krishna: Some guys have all the luck

PEOPLE LIKE THEM

We want to give something small, just so that we are sure our daughter is comfortable in her new home," murmured the father of the bride to Govind's mother, adding obsequiously, "only if you don't mind!" Govind's mother nodded regally, as befitted her status as the groom's mother.

"Well if you want to give something of your own sweet will to your daughter, then who are we to say anything?" said she. The next thing they knew was that Govind's little room and kitchen were crammed with sparkling new utensils, a bed, a television and a refrigerator.

Govind and his parents were very happy with the match. After all, he was a policeman with a regular job and a lot of clout, and his wife Sona, the aptly named daughter of a munificent father.

Of course, his friends and neighbours were jealous. "Isn't it enough for you that she'll cook and clean and bear your children?" asked an earnest fellow. Another told him taking dowry was illegal, and to be careful.

But Govind scoffed at them, saying that if a father gave his daughter gifts of his own sweet will, where did the question of dowry, or his expecting it, arise? Anyway, their debate was only academic, for it would usually occur when they came over to watch television and enjoy cold sherbet from the fridge.

Each festival became less an occasion to be celebrated, and more a time to peep enviously into Govind's crowded room and see his latest acquisitions.

Mixers, juicers, toasters and ovens jostled for space, while Sona contentedly ruled the roost. She generously allowed her neighbours, none of whom could afford any of these things, to use the mixer, showing them how she made chutney in a jiffy. It only served to further fuel their jealousy.

When Sona's first child, a son, was born, everyone rushed to see the baby (and also, how the doting grandfather had reacted to his birth). A large carton was standing outside their room. "What's in it?" they asked one another, baby forgotten. They circled it, seeing the name of a familiar multinational emblazoned upon it.

"A washing machine?" Sona's next-door neighbour cried incredulously, "now this is the limit. What on earth will they do with a washing machine?"

Another woman wondered where they'd put it. A third said nastily that today's girls just didn't want to do any hard work: "Look at me, I wash clothes for seven people "" but you won't catch me buying a washing machine! And you certainly won't see my parents, poor things, giving me one!"

Matters became somewhat worse when they saw Sona sashaying back from the general merchant, bag of the most expensive washing powder in hand. "Now that we have a machine, we have to use the best powder otherwise the machine will get spoilt!" said she, tossing her head.

The neighbourhood was convinced that with this latest acquisition, Govind and Sona had become way too big for their boots. "Wait and watch," pronounced one of the women gloomily, "no good will ever come out of this!"

Just then, a shriek rent the air. It came from Govind's house. The women feared the worst, as usual. "What am I going to tell Govind?" Sona shouted tearfully, brandishing a piece of paper. The women clucked sympathetically, dying to know what happened. Sona said, looking shell-shocked, "this paper was in the washing powder "" it says we've won a computer!"

After the stunned neighbours carped about how the computer would be totally wasted on Sona and Govind, they went home to nag their husbands into buying them washing machines "" or at least, more expensive washing powders.