He has declared that he will take her as his wife. She has handed over her heart to him, with alacrity. But like every Romeo and Juliet before them, there are problems.
He is the youngest of four siblings and it is the custom for the daughter of the house to marry first and then the male line in sequence from eldest to youngest. He must not break the pattern. What would the extended family say? Once one breaks the ‘rules’ others will want to follow. One cannot dispense with tradition so lightly.
Then, there is the fact that he hails from the North and she from the West. The language of love requires no translation but the kith and kin can find no common ground in caste, community or tongue. And so, the respective families find spokes to put in the wheels already set in motion.
The young couple is exasperated. The lad says he will marry without consent – he is of age and financially independent. The lass says that she will ‘take poison’ if forced to consider any other suitor. I wonder if Shakespeare has been translated into Marathi and Haryanvi and whether any of our protagonists has read the script.
There is much protesting, pleading, threatening and finally conceding. The parents agree that they love their children and it is their happiness which should come first (Capulet and Montague take note). The wedding will take place on the weekend. There is no flurry of preparation. No invitations to be sent out. The dearly beloved present will comprise the parents from each side and the bride and groom. If there is to be a celebration, it will come later. Much later. Perhaps when the couple welcome their first child.
He is 24. She is 22. They will wed with the stardust still in their eyes.
Will they remain in love forever like those immortalized in fable?
Neither Friar nor Nurse but mere spectator, I am keeping my fingers crossed and wishing with all my might that they will. And may no one to the marriage of true hearts (and true minds) admit impediment!
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