Maayan's big dream when she was a girl was to be a bride. She wasn't too keen on being a wife, but she wasn't one to let a little detail like marriage keep her from having a wedding. Her wedding would be fancy; a white wedding dress, flowers, adoring family and envious girlfriends. The groom was an unattractive but essential accessory, like a telephone pole by the Taj Mahal.
I fixed her lunch one day after school. She was in first or second grade and sat there by the kitchen table waiting for me. I told her there was someone I wanted her to meet. She didn't show any interest or objection.
"Who?"
"You know how Savta Sophie and Saba Yaakov (Yael's parents) were matched." (60 or so years ago arranged marriages were the rule in Jewish Bombay, love matches were the exception.) She knew, but didn't get the connection.
Well, a friend of mine has a son your age, I told her. I went on spinning this yarn. Now I had Maayan's attention. "My friend and I have decided that you (Maayan and the boy) are right for each other, so we (my imaginary friend and I) have arranged for you to get married when you're old enough. We think it would nice if you get to know each other."
"I don't want to marry him."
"You don't even know him."
She didn't care. "You can't make me marry him."
She had a point there. The trick in successfully fooling someone is to never deny the truth, but to twist it.
"I can't make you marry him, but only I can decide if you will have a wedding. If you won't marry him, then I won't let you get married."
I had her over a barrel. It was the prospect of missing her day more than a lifetime of loneliness that troubled her. She paused. Then her face hardened and her forehead furled.
"Okay, I'll marry him, but he'll wish he were dead."
The drop of anger in the corner of her eye told me I had gone too far, so I came clean before she started crying.
"Abba, that wasn't kidding – that was lying!" That's when we made the rule that pulling someone's leg longer than 5 minutes is lying.
In spite of being deceived regularly by her parents, Maayan grew up to be a well adjusted young woman with a healthy distrust of authority. With the exception of her first beau in high school, she's never made the mistake of bringing her boyfriends home.
So now there's a man she wants me to meet.
I don't know much about him. He grew up on a religious kibbutz in the Etzion Bloc south of Jerusalem. He was/is a paratrooper in the army and now he's a student. He's a man of faith. He met Maayan in India and saw something in her that he liked. It took her time to warm up to him. Maybe she wanted to see if he was fooling her like her old man, but now she believes he's sincere.
I don't know where this is going; I don't think even Maayan knows. But I know for the first time in 25 years there is someone she wants me to meet.
The time will come when Maayan will bring a man into my life. I don't have much choice in the matter, and I will have to live with it and hope for the best, like a bride in an arranged marriage.
Maayan is the matchmaker for herself. For me. For him.
Okay, I'll meet him. I hope it's a good match between the men in Maayan's life. Because if it isn't, one of us will wish he were dead.
I fixed her lunch one day after school. She was in first or second grade and sat there by the kitchen table waiting for me. I told her there was someone I wanted her to meet. She didn't show any interest or objection.
"Who?"
"You know how Savta Sophie and Saba Yaakov (Yael's parents) were matched." (60 or so years ago arranged marriages were the rule in Jewish Bombay, love matches were the exception.) She knew, but didn't get the connection.
Well, a friend of mine has a son your age, I told her. I went on spinning this yarn. Now I had Maayan's attention. "My friend and I have decided that you (Maayan and the boy) are right for each other, so we (my imaginary friend and I) have arranged for you to get married when you're old enough. We think it would nice if you get to know each other."
"I don't want to marry him."
"You don't even know him."
She didn't care. "You can't make me marry him."
She had a point there. The trick in successfully fooling someone is to never deny the truth, but to twist it.
"I can't make you marry him, but only I can decide if you will have a wedding. If you won't marry him, then I won't let you get married."
I had her over a barrel. It was the prospect of missing her day more than a lifetime of loneliness that troubled her. She paused. Then her face hardened and her forehead furled.
"Okay, I'll marry him, but he'll wish he were dead."
The drop of anger in the corner of her eye told me I had gone too far, so I came clean before she started crying.
"Abba, that wasn't kidding – that was lying!" That's when we made the rule that pulling someone's leg longer than 5 minutes is lying.
In spite of being deceived regularly by her parents, Maayan grew up to be a well adjusted young woman with a healthy distrust of authority. With the exception of her first beau in high school, she's never made the mistake of bringing her boyfriends home.
So now there's a man she wants me to meet.
I don't know much about him. He grew up on a religious kibbutz in the Etzion Bloc south of Jerusalem. He was/is a paratrooper in the army and now he's a student. He's a man of faith. He met Maayan in India and saw something in her that he liked. It took her time to warm up to him. Maybe she wanted to see if he was fooling her like her old man, but now she believes he's sincere.
I don't know where this is going; I don't think even Maayan knows. But I know for the first time in 25 years there is someone she wants me to meet.
The time will come when Maayan will bring a man into my life. I don't have much choice in the matter, and I will have to live with it and hope for the best, like a bride in an arranged marriage.
Maayan is the matchmaker for herself. For me. For him.
Okay, I'll meet him. I hope it's a good match between the men in Maayan's life. Because if it isn't, one of us will wish he were dead.
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