Red Indian Sun

Neither my parents nor my friends knew about my plans to go to India to a virtual acquaintance. I did not know how to say this. I felt shame.

Only once did I share this story with my old friend, a professor from an American university. In the end she said: “The more you tell me about him, the more scared I am for you. There are too many red flags in this story. I’m pretty sure he’s a crook and invites you to India to rob. Please keep me posted. If you need anything in India, write to me. I know some big people there. It is better than going without warning anyone”.

I and the Indian guy met online in October 2015, and in early May 2016, I applied for a visa at the Indian visa center in Moscow and three days later I received a tourist visa. My future husband bought me a ticket at the end of May, and we planned a wedding and honeymoon trip to Shimla at the beginning of June.

I constantly felt that I was being cheated by him. Moreover, I felt in my heart that this deception was so huge, so dangerous for my life, that from the moment I received my visa I knew no peace. Obviously, he was a marriage swindler.

He broke the fates of innocent women and girls and did not consider himself guilty because he did not consider women as people; their fates for him were not the fates of people. He did not think about what would happen to their lost, deserted souls, with their deceived hearts, what would happen to their mothers and fathers who cherished their children like delicate flowers, protecting them from the slightest cold.

Two weeks before my departure to India, Tenardieu told me the following:

– Today my friend and I were in Hisar. I saw a beautiful girl and fell in love and immediately went to her father with my friend and asked for her hand. We talked with her father for almost two hours, and I have already been given consent. But my stupid friend suddenly told her father: “Thank you, but he already has a bride. She arrives soon from Moscow for the wedding.” The girl’s father was shocked, and I ran away from there without saying goodbye.

As a result, that evening I felt a huge relief and said to the young man that I would not go anywhere, and I wish him to marry the one he chose:

– It is very good. Thanks god. So many times I wanted to cancel this trip. This is the happy end. You marry that girl. I stay in Moscow. I wish you get married and live a hundred years together. Goodbye.

– No, don’t leave me! Forgive me, please come to India to me. I cannot live without you. I will never meet a girl like you, – told me Tenardieu on the phone.

– But you do not love me. You said you proposed the girl.

– I love you. I will commit suicide if you won’t come. My father will. Two people will die because of you.

– I don’t believe you. Leave me alone please.

He cried on the phone and screamed:

– My love, please, please, do not leave me. I cannot live without you, babe.

I disconnected the call. Every day he was sending me photographs of his face full of tears. It lasted one week.

And I agreed to come to India.

– What did you do all week?

– I sat alone in my room and cried all the time, – he answered in a trembling voice.

When we were reconciled, the young man asked me all the time:

– What will you bring me from Moscow?

– What shall I bring?

– Bring gifts to all my family, I need vodka, and I have a little niece, buy her a dress.

– Vodka???

– Yes.

– What kind of gifts to buy?

– For my mom jewelry, for dad leather purse or expensive watches.

In our country, a man would not say so, asking to bring alcohol is a shame, it is considered indecent. But I wrote off everything on the peculiarities of the culture of his country or family traditions and therefore I decided to buy the gifts he asked for.

I remember how, before leaving, I went shopping in the center of Moscow and bought gifts to his family, which he ordered. I chose something beautiful for all: for his niece, I ordered an Italian dress, for his father – a watch, for mother – bracelets, etc.

My future husband would not let me rest and called me every five minutes. At first, I politely replied that I was busy, then disconnected the calls, and then turned off the phone.

I told him:

– Let’s cancel everything. Please explain to your parents that I was sick and missed the flight.

– Do not be afraid of anything. If you do not come, my father will commit suicide. He said so. And bear in mind that his death will be your guilt. Just trust me and do not be afraid of anything!!! Can you believe me?

I allowed the thought that the story with dad was a hoax. But since, earlier, in the conversations with this guy, accidentally I could give him hope for more, made me feel guilty. The idea that I could cause someone’s death was so terrible for me that I decided to come. After all, what was worth some trip compared to the whole human life?

– I will come because I feel myself responsible for the situation with your father. But if you deceive me, you will regret. You don’t know who you’re messing around with.

And then came the day specified in the airline ticket “Aeroflot”. I sat at the Moscow Sheremetyevo airport and waited for the invitation to board the plane. Tenardieu called me endlessly while demanding to show me the airport on the camera. But since I was sitting in a crowded room, I did not do this but only took a picture of myself against the background of signs and shops at the airport. Eventually, he did not believe me that I was really at the airport, and decided that I was deceiving him.

India

From the plane, I did not see where the border between the ordinary world and India lay.

India, magic India gave me a lot of unforgettable pleasant impressions, a lot of a good many interesting meetings, and in the most dangerous moments of life, good people came to help me from nowhere, and absolutely strange saving circumstances arose.

The person who invited me to his country brought me a lot of misery and suffering while I lived there. He alone in the whole country made me shed rivers of tears. The rest of the population of India brought only good and happiness. Therefore, in my memory, this magical country remained bright and good.

Maybe I will never be able to visit India again, but this is not so important, because India remained in my heart as something living, rational and magical.

Like an invisible friend who saved me from an evil demon, India led me through the darkness to light.

Once, as a little girl, I looked at the fairy tale “Aladdin’s Magic Lamp” together with my parents, after which they began to call me a princess.

In India, I felt like a princess from the fairy tale, when my illiterate mother-in-law taught me to milk a cow, cook roti flatbreads and forced me to wear a dupatta.

All seven hours, when I flew to him on the plane, he sat at home in his village and checked my messenger in the hope of seeing me online. What would be proof that I did not leave Moscow for India. I do not know why he always suspected me to cheat or lie. So that day he decided not to pick me up at the airport.

On the plane with me sat a married couple from India. My seat was near the illuminator, I looked out and imagined that maybe he was waiting for me at the airport.

In the meantime, my future husband was sitting in his village and was not even going to go anywhere, staring at the Facebook messenger, waiting for me to come online. He wanted to make sure that I stayed in Moscow. And he would say: “Well, I told you, she is still in Moscow.”

I do not know why, but he thought of me as a dishonorable person. It is true that a person sees only his own reflection in those around him.

His parents said to him: “Go to the airport, what if she flies to India?” His father was angry, he actually planned to leave for airport several hours before my arrival, but the person who invited me to his home country said that no need – it’s not necessary to arrive on time. For some reason, he decided that I was a deceiver and probably would not go to him after so many of his mean tricks, prank with the second bride in Hisar and new online girlfriends.

At some point, the plane began to swing from side to side, and suddenly we began to fall! Oh, God, I didn’t say anything to my relatives, I didn’t even say goodbye to any of them. I was very scared and lonely, I could not even talk to anyone, we just all prayed and shouted. I experienced such a fear that I simply could not calm myself down. But soon everything returned to normal, and the air passengers calmed down, including me.

What was most memorable when we landed in Delhi – the flight attendant reported that the weather in Delhi was good. Only +30°C.

So, India met me with good weather. The temperature was plus thirty degrees of heat, according to the Vaishnava calendar was the month of Trivikram. Around there were people in turbans, colorful sarees. Wet warm air smelled with sweet rot. In the eyes of people, I saw peace and happiness of the child, beloved by the mother.

In all the contrast with Moscow was felt. In Delhi – absolutely everything different from Moscow.

A sweet-rotten smell hung in the air, beat right on the nose. It seemed to me that I got into the fourth dimension. Here everything looked unreal. Have you ever had to look at someone through the hot air near the fire? That was exactly what Delhi Airport and its inhabitants looked like when I went out with a suitcase to the reception hall.

Taxi drivers, tourist agents, and locals stood in a semicircle at the glass sensory doors.

Since I was a little late, I went out to the hall after other passengers. But I could not see my future husband. Everyone from my flight has already gone home and in hotels, and I was sitting on a bench with my suitcase and bag.

Indian men began to approach me with questions. I did not know what to answer. In a deaf whisper, despair and fear twisted my neck and began to choke me from both sides. The hall was empty. Out of sadness, I settled down more comfortably on the bench, put my legs on the suitcase and angrily sang a song.

Then an Indian man approached me and said:

– If such a girl came to me, I would be at the airport five days before her arrival and would not keep her waiting. Do you have this idiot’s phone number? Allow me to call him and say something unpleasant on behalf of whole India?

At the same moment, I saw my future husband, who was slowly walking along the airport without flowers, shuffling along the floor with blue sports sneakers, not even hurrying anywhere.

The guy who wanted to help me saw my future husband and made a grimace with the words: “Oh my god! This one? What did you see in him?” I, too, made a face, laughed, and nodded my head. But I did not have time to answer. I looked around for a place where I could run away from him, but it was too late.

He was a guy about twenty-five years old. His face was cunning, but radiant with joy. He was thin and slouching, with a deep saddle, of medium height.

His eyes were huge, black, with long, curled up flirtatious, lively eyelashes, which contrasted so strongly with the almost dead, terrible abysmal eye. On the head was a kindergarten hairstyle which we call “Phillipok” with a long fringe slicked to his forehead. A black T-shirt hung over bony shoulders. Tight-fitting jeans showed sharp knees. The whole image was completed by enormously large ears, bulging to the sides, somewhat disproportionate to the small head. The hands and feet also looked too large in relation to the arms and legs.

We greeted, kissed each other on the cheek and went to the exit. We were met by his father, a sister with a child and her husband. I extended my hand to my future father-in-law to shake it, but he just kindly hugged me like his daughter. Unlike his twenty-five-year crumb snatcher, my future father-in-law seemed to be a good person.

I felt so relaxed and calm that I stopped worrying.

We waited some time for a car in the street near the airport. In the black heights, the stars and clouds danced Boston. My future husband and I were standing nearby, and his relatives were a little away from us. A warm night wind was blowing.

Then a white jeep drove up, we plunged and drove to the village. I was very tired from the flight and constantly fell into a dream. The road to the village took six hours. On the way, we stopped at a cafe, silently drank tea. I felt their eyes on me, and I myself looked away, somewhere on the tops of the trees, hiding my face from embarrassment. I remember green trees against the black sky, the sultry air, despite the dark time of the day, the coolness did not occur.

* * *

Haryana is located in the north of India, and its name means the abode of God. Haryana became an independent state in 1966, and before that, it was part of the state of Punjab. The capital of both states is the city of Chandigarh. The population of Haryana is over 25 million people.

The state has a highly developed engineering and agriculture. It is in Haryana where most crimes against women occur.

In antiquity about 3000–1300 BC Haryana was part of Harappa civilization, on a par with Egyptian and Sumerian.

Already at that ancient time, sewerage and drainage systems existed in Haryana. Civilization fell into decay, and then completely disappeared with the arrival of the Aryans. It is believed that the creation of the universe began from this place, so pilgrims from all over India come to Haryana, in particular to the sacred pond Brahma Sarovar.

It was on the territory of Haryana that the events described in the ancient Indian epic “Mahabharata” took place.

My future husband’s village was called Samain, it was not far from the city of Tohana, in Fatehabad district, Haryana state. About ten thousand representatives of ten different castes lived in it. Brahmins, Jats, and Banya belonged to the higher castes. The lower castes were Khati, Kumharas, Lohars, Nai, Chkhipi. Registered, that is, untouchable castes – Chamari, Balmika. Half of the population of the village was engaged in agriculture, almost 40 percent of the population was not engaged in anything.

My future husband and his family came from the lower caste of Khati, whose members were engaged in carpentry and agriculture. The father of my future husband was a carpenter, as Khati should be, the family also had a small cotton field, and my future husband himself had the profession of a welder. He was shy of belonging to a lower caste and subsequently lied to new friends that he was from a higher caste of Brahmins.

Castes arose with the arrival of the Aryan tribes in India. Aryans were nomads. There are many theories about their country of origin. They came to India in ancient times. The Aryan entertainments were divided into two groups – gambling and music and dance. The Aryans brought their views and customs, including the division of society into four castes, or classes of society. The highest of them were priests and scholars – the caste of the Brahmins. Steps below were warriors and nobles, the penultimate class of society consisted of artisans and merchants. The lowest consisted of agricultural workers, as well as workers of other professions.

Representatives of different castes did not have the right to marry among themselves, and it was impossible to move from one caste to another.

I remember one feature of life in the Indian village. By tradition, residents of the same village are prohibited from marrying each other. The nearest village, with representatives who are allowed to marry, must be within a radius of at least ten kilometers. Often, the girl’s parents begin to look for her as soon as she comes of age. Sometimes it happens that, living in the same village, young people fall in love with each other and, without obtaining the consent of their parents, they come to an agreement and run away from their native land. To prevent such a development of events, parents try not to delay their daughter’s marriage. According to the stories of local residents, because of this, many young people have committed suicide, unable to cope with the loss of their beloved.

Currently, before the arranged marriage, the bride and groom first look at each other’s photographs. If they like each other, they are introduced to each other, then they communicate by telephone, though it happens sometimes that they do not communicate at all and are not even interested. Also in India, there is a tradition to consult with an astrologer before the wedding. All people are divided into Manglik and non-Manglik.

Mangal dosha is one of the major deciding factors in Hindu marriages. A Manglik marrying a non-Manglik is considered disastrous which can even lead to the death of one’s partner. Mangal dosha is the combination in the birth chart or horoscope where Mars (also known as Mangal or Kuja) is placed in the 2nd, 4th, 7th, 8th or 12th house in the Ascendant. A person with mangal dosh in his natal chart is called Manglik. Mars is considered malefic when it is positioned in any of the mentioned houses and it leads to tensions, dissatisfactions, and disasters in married life.

My acquaintances had a case when the groom changed his mind about marrying his bride already at the height of the wedding preparations, when gold and a dowry had already been bought, and guests were invited. The girl was slightly plump and groom did not like her. However, at the first meeting he agreed to their wedding, then something went wrong. Relatives said that he had a girlfriend at work. He was tormented for several months, overcome by doubts, but did not dare to cancel the wedding. He was unhappy but did not reveal his grief in front of relatives. At this time, the bride’s family, highly respected in the city, purchased all necessary, furniture, and gold jewelry. Few weeks remained before the wedding. One day a brother asked the groom why he was so sad. The groom admitted that he actually did not want to marry because he did not like the bride. But he still was going to marry her, because it was too late to cancel the wedding and upset parents. The groom’s brother was an impulsive man. He just immediately picked up the phone, dialed the number of the father of the bride, and said that there would be no wedding. The groom was relieved, but his family lost credibility. In India, the most terrible for a person, for a family – to lose the respect of society.

I’d like to describe another case from the life of the village in which I lived. In the village of my future husband was a young family. The father of the family sold alcohol, and the attitude to the family was bad. The young man, the son of a merchant, was a handsome, kind and cheerful guy, about two meters tall. But because of the past of his father, no one got married to him. Eventually, when the guy was already over thirty, he married a village girl, divinely beautiful, young and very tall like a model. They got married and after a while selflessly fell in love with each other, and had a daughter. And then his wife started having bouts, during which she was bleeding from her mouth. Her husband was unhappy about it and was afraid of losing her forever.

I also know of a case when a young girl from a rich rural family. She had an arranged wedding, but love did not come during their life together, and she filed for divorce. Then she re-married the one she chose and was happy with her husband. In her defense, the villagers always said that since she was rich, she was allowed to do so.

It happens that a great love comes to spouses after the arranged wedding. Sometimes two loneliness live under one roof for the whole life. It is much more difficult for girls to live in a new family. Because they live in a strange family, where mother-in-law often mocks her daughter-in-law, and the husband doesn’t intercede for his wife if they don’t have a good relationship. Her parents are very far, and it is difficult to complain about the phone.

Not for nothing are parents picking up a wife for their son. In India, life is often so formed that the husband works five days a week in another city, arrives home for the weekend at the village. Therefore, his wife spends most of her time with her husband’s parents, and not with him.

In India there are few divorces, families are built for life, many Indians but not all are wonderful family men. But, as I was told, there are few divorces, because in case of divorce, the husband’s family will have to return the bride’s dowry, and not everyone can afford it. I was told by Tenardieu that there are many tragic accidents with wives, after which the widower will remarry without problems. I remembered very well how, at the beginning of our story, my future husband told me about this, not seeing anything reprehensible in the murder. As now I can see that he quite often lacked sincerity, I also guess his theory about dead wives could be false. But who knows.

the beautiful village of Samain

On the way from the airport, I fell asleep again. Finally, we arrived and stopped at a two-story house with beautiful wooden carvings on the facade. There were still mirrors on the doors and all kinds of whorls of wood. My future father-in-law talentedly made them with his own gifted hands.

On the outer wall of the house, I saw a swastika. Then I noticed that swastikas were also painted on the neighboring houses.

Then I read that a swastika is a Sanskrit word that means well-being. He embraces the idea of the four cardinal directions and the four seasons, the fusion of the male and female. The swastika is a symbol of the sun.

There is an important little detail – the position of the swastika. The vertical swastika is a sign of good, sun, and well-being. But the swastika, located at an angle of 45°, is a symbol of evil, striking out and destroy. The Nazis used just such a swastika.

Houses in an Indian village are not at all the same as in Russia. In general, the principle of building a village is different. Houses in Indian village are two-storeyed, connected by a common wall with neighboring houses, there is an open sky inside the house between the rooms, you can put a chaise lounge in the corridor and look at the stars, as well as at curious neighbors, and they can look at you. It often happens that there is a hole in the wall to transfer food to each other. In each house there are wicker beds charpai, they are hard to use. But in the heat it is very good that the base of the bed is wicker: the air circulates. We went inside. It was a carpenter’s house. Everything in the house was done by his hands, even wooden sofas and beds.

When we arrived from the airport, it was early morning, they carefully brought me tea, after tea, I lay down to take a nap, the flies would not let me rest, and I covered myself with a blanket right on top of my head. I heard some people come and the room was filled with people. Some woman pulled the blanket off my head and looked into my sleepy face, looked at me and covered again with the blanket.

I had the feeling of unreality of what was happening, some kind of magic, the kindness of nature towards me.

Then I woke up, took a shower and had lunch.

In the evening a young man, my future husband, was glowing with happiness.

– I am very glad that you came. And my dad is happy, – he said with tenderness in his voice.

– I’m glad too, honey.

– Tell me, did you like me? – He asked looking into my eyes.

– Yes, and you?

– Yes, my dear, I like you very much, – he said and kissed me for the first time.

During our dialogue, I noticed that he did not say a word about my mother.

“Probably, his mother is against me,” I thought, and fell asleep carelessly.

The next morning I sat on the bed, and a lot of people entered the room. These were the villagers. I was sleepy and felt shy. They were local women, grandmothers, and children, all of them, except for children and girls, were wearing Punjabi suites and dupatta, they had numerous bracelets on their hands, and good-quality Indian gold glittered in their ears, neck, and fingers.

They lined up against the wall so that everyone had enough space in the room, and looked at me in silence, not smiling and not blinking, as it seemed to me, some people looked at me. I was so shy and didn’t know where to hide from such attention. I looked away in confusion. They stood silently and did not move. Then I smiled at them, and they smiled back at me. Their visit ended, they turned around and left the room. When they came the next time, on the advice of my future mother-in-law, I touched the oldest women’s legs as a sign of respect. In response, they touched my head as a sign of blessing.