‘How can I marry a man who is bald!’ Sulo wailed. ‘How can I be seen in society when I go out with him? How embarrassing to be married to a man whose hair is all thinning in front.’

‘See, will you, this girl! Can’t satisfy her, no? What a good match, and a house in Colombo 7 too. Rosmead Place. And no mother-in-law problems also.’

Sulo was adamant. ‘He is bald, no? How to marry him aunty. Shame, no? I’ll be embarrassed.’

And then another proposal. This time Rosie Aunty was out. It was a retired teacher who was going to arrange everything. She too had daughters, marriageable ones, but they had faith that at the right time the Lord would provide husbands.

Mrs Sriskandaraja was careful. There were preliminaries. ‘Is she a good girl? No affairs? Not a flirt or anything? She’s not giddy, is she?

‘No, Mrs Sriskandaraja,’ Sulo’s friends stood up for her staunchly, ‘she’s never had an affair. She is not a flirt. She is a good, steady type of girl. You can go ahead.’

Mrs Sriskandaraja went ahead. Sulo and her mother were invited to lunch to meet the parents of the prospective groom. He himself had been in the U.K. since 1983. An accountant. Very good job. Earning well. Had just one more examination to pass. Went to the U.K. during the civil disturbances which interrupted his studies. He was in his late twenties, a good age. He had his own flat there. There were a few fears though. Surely the young man must have had affairs in England. A free society, lonely life, how could he resist? But all in all, a good match. Christian. Caste-wise, too, everything was in order. Just a few other matters to be discussed, like how much are you prepared to give as dowry, in the way of property, money, jewellery …

‘I said I can give three lakhs, plenty of jewellery also—there’s mine as well as what my mother left me and what I made for Sulo,’ said Meena.

Sulo and her mother came all the way from upcountry for the weekend in Kandy. It was all very secretive. Where these things were concerned, there was so much jealousy, character assassination, things said behind the back … one had to be very careful, very circumspect. On the day of the meeting with the parents, Sulo and Meena had come in a three-wheeler. Sulo wore a simple blue saree of nylex. A lunch had been planned. After it was all over, two very exhausted humans had dropped in at their friend, Menaka’s place. Menaka had known Sulo from the time she was a little girl of seven years. Both mother and daughter collapsed gratefully into two easy chairs and fanned themselves with rolled-up newspapers.

‘The ordeal is over at last, what a relief. Now we can talk freely,’ Meena said.

‘What a grand lunch we had, Menaka Aunty,’ said Sulo.