CHAPTER 4

HOW TO CHOOSE A SPOUSE IN AN HOUR

You can adapt to anything—you just don’t
know it yet.

We’re standing there, feet held firmly together, inches away from the water, waiting to jump. So often in life we feel as though we’re about to move forward, but something holds us back. It is our own mind. We are afraid of not being able to handle the unpredictable events that may result from a change or a decision we’re about to make. Starting a new job, a new relationship, or a new business can seem overwhelming, especially when we’ve never done it before. Our overly analytical mind tries to protect us by reminding us that we don’t have enough information to proceed, that we’re not smart enough, that we’re not good enough, that we lack something. We may worry that the person we’re about to start a relationship with isn’t the right one, or we may wonder whether quitting our job will make us really happy. How do we know?

So we worry and think on it some more. We find ourselves getting nervous, anxious, and stressed about jumping in. And that anxiety becomes a vicious cycle, whittling away the time available to pursue our dreams of starting a new relationship, a new business, or a new career; of making a sales call; of pitching a new idea at work; of rebuilding a relationship or starting a fresh life in another place.

About two years ago, I met a young woman named Garima who helped me realize that making a life decision depends not on having more information but on our ability to believe that we can adapt and improvise as we go forward. In our gut, our human intuition, we have an amazingly deep reservoir of strength and the faculty to adjust ourselves to a complex and unpredictable environment—to learn, to develop, to change, to pivot, and to adapt. We can figure things out even when we’re flying blind. Improvising is something we don’t normally think about, but we know how to do it when we must.

Mallika sent me a Facebook message inviting me to meet her and a couple of her friends for coffee. She wanted to give me a care package for her sister living in New Jersey, and grabbing a coffee was a lot easier than going to her home, because her parents would insist on the lengthy and usually formal dinner. I had been traveling with my boss in India for a work project and my stomach had been through the ups and downs of various foods throughout the last couple of weeks. I just couldn’t handle another huge meal.

I arrived a bit early on a brisk and cloudy Saturday morning. The chic coffee place was located in the middle of the touristy, high-end shopping district of New Delhi, and I found myself fascinated by simply observing the ebb and flow of young, modern women going in and out of the fancy shops. Many things had changed since I left this complex country in the late 1970s. Although much of India still lives in poverty, it was refreshing to see the dynamic can-do and must-have spirit of modern India reflected in its bright new shopping centers bustling with energy.

Plush sofas, tall tables, and stools decorated the coffee shop, which was perched atop a tiny building. The aroma of cappuccino was wafting through the air along with the sounds of Beyoncé on the radio.

Mallika arrived with two friends, Garima and Priyanka, who were spending some quality time together later that day. After I received the package from Mallika, we chatted for a bit. We got on the subject of Facebook and how popular it had become in India, especially among young women their age—in their mid- to late twenties—and how the phone call had been replaced by the Facebook message, BlackBerry IM, or text message. I was curious about how the younger generation was finding love in Facebook times, and I inquired as gently as I could into their social lives. In particular, I asked about marriage, thinking that much would have changed since the time of my parents’ generation, or even my own.

Offering context, I explained that during my parents’ generation, people got married very quickly, without deliberating too long on making a decision. In some cases back then, the couples didn’t even meet face-to-face until the day of the wedding. This was especially true for girls. A husband was chosen for them through family acquaintances, and often they were forced into marriage.

In my parents’ case, my dad met my mom through relatives who knew my mom’s father. My dad went to meet my mom at her parents’ home, where she lived. Accompanied by his uncle and aunt, my dad met my mom’s parents over tea. My mom brought out tea for all of them and then left to go and hide in the kitchen with her sister, peering out to get a good look at my dad.

The two families had tea together and my dad and mom didn’t even exchange a single word. He looked at her briefly and she looked at him. That was it. Tea was over and they left.

Later that evening, my mom’s father went over to see my dad and his uncle and promptly asked, “Yes or no?” Talk about pressure!

My dad said yes and they were married in a few weeks’ time.

“This was in the late 1960s. How has this changed? What’s it like now?” I asked innocently.

“Well, you know, it’s harder now because you don’t know if you can trust anyone so easily these days,” Mallika said. “It used to be that you knew that the boy came from a good family and that was good enough. Nowadays, it’s more complicated. Can’t be certain of anything anymore. You can’t count on the family background, either. In the past, you had some comfort in knowing the boy’s family background and so you would think the boy was raised in a good house and he’ll make a good husband. But today, you can’t count on that anymore.” She sounded frustrated.

“It takes more time these days, too,” Priyanka chimed in, echoing Mallika’s frustration. “A lot of guys are going for higher education now and so they don’t want to settle down until they start earning money.”

“Or they are so picky!” Garima added, and all of us started laughing.

“What about you, Garima?” I asked.

“I guess I just got lucky,” Garima said, beaming a soft smile.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve been married for almost two years now, and it was a chance circumstance. A couple of years ago, my mom wanted me to meet this guy who was ten years older than me. I said, No way! I mean, I was only twenty-five years old, and thirty-five seemed like he was an old man, you know?

“Then, about six months later, this guy sent me a message on Facebook, out of the blue. I really didn’t remember that it was the same guy, but thought I knew him from school or we had common friends. So we started chatting on Facebook a bit, and a few days later he asked me out for coffee.

“We had a nice time at the coffee shop, and I did remember then that he was ten years older than me, but somehow I didn’t notice it. It didn’t bother me. I mean, it wasn’t love at first sight that you see in a Bollywood movie. I’m not sure it ever is. But we hit it off.

“When he asked me out for a lunch on the second date, I figured, Sure. Why not? He was nice and came from a nice family. We got to the restaurant and we talked about everything—about his idea of pursuing a legal career or higher education, about my pursuit of a master’s degree, also. We talked about his father’s passing some years ago and how he’s managing to take care of his family. We also talked about where in general we wanted to go with our lives.”

As Garima was explaining what they talked about, I noticed she didn’t mention discussing likes or dislikes.

“Then, at the end of our lunch, he said that he wouldn’t have asked me out if he didn’t intend on marrying me.”

“No! Seriously?” I asked in surprise. “On your second date, this guy essentially asked you to marry him? On your second date? Over lunch? In under an hour, basically?” I wanted to ensure I had heard correctly.

Smiling, Garima answered, “Well, I guess so. He took me by surprise. I was shocked too.”

“What did you say?”

“I said OK. Yes. I mean, I knew I wanted a good family, someone with good education, must be decent looking and have some connection. But also nothing was final, of course, since he hadn’t met my family and they had not met him either.”

Mallika and Priyanka both said, “The family plays more of a role in our decision making.”

Priyanka explained further, “Knowing that the boy comes from a good family usually indicates that he’s a good boy. And if Garima’s parents didn’t like him, then she may not have married him.”

“My parents had some knowledge of his family, all through the perspective of people we knew in common,” Garima added.

This is getting interesting, I thought. I asked, “But you still had final say, right? Then what happened?”

“Well, he came over my house to meet my parents, and that was it. They liked him and we decided to get married. But I kind of knew on our first date,” she said confidently.

“But help me understand something. How did you know he’s the one?” I asked, almost teasingly.

Without feeling the pressure of trying to explain a decision that lasts a lifetime, Garima explained her rationale with almost philosophical ease.

“Just because you don’t have a negative vibe when you’re on a date or a lunch, it doesn’t mean that you won’t ever fight or argue in the future or have difficult times in your marriage. Because I understand that life is never easy.”

She paused to allow her friends to nod in agreement, their body language becoming that of women with far more years behind them.

“There are always compromises in any relationships,” she continued. “But you know what? We’ll make it work. We will figure it out. We’ll learn as we go. We’ll make it work!”

As we ended our fun, rich, and deep conversation amid pastries and lattes on a rainy Saturday in India’s new urban metropolis, I realized that some things don’t change. Although parts of India’s landscape may appear changed on the surface, its citizens’ deep reservoir of acceptance for the imperfections of life hadn’t changed all that much since the day my parents met some four decades ago.

I realized that, along with the package I was bringing back for Mallika’s sister, I was taking back a lesson that I needed to apply to my own life.

There is no special knowledge that surrounds the decision of a young woman to go forward with a lifelong decision to marry a man she has met for only an hour or so. Whether Garima’s marriage will work out cannot be known for certain. What is important, however, is her strong belief in the ability to make it work, a belief that comes from an acceptance that life has its ups and downs and that there is no perfect life, person, relationship, or marriage. Instead of certainty, Garima has steadfast faith in her own ability to figure it out as she goes. She has faith in her ability—in their ability—to be fluid, flexible, and agile as life unfolds; to improvise; to be secure in an insecure world, armed with only the knowledge that resilience exists within. And part of this is due to Garima’s ability to not overthink.