Meena, already anxious, would panic when confronted with these questions. Love affairs, romantic attachments, the ideal partner whom Sulo had envisaged all along—the dream mate, tall, dark, handsome, educated, wealthy, with liberal ideas—had been too much of a mirage. So far nothing had happened. Youthful bloom would not last forever. As time went on the prospect seemed to be gloomier. They would have to resort to a widower, a divorcee, or an elderly bachelor who needed a mate-companion in some far away country where he lived in exile. Sulo was approaching thirty. Yes, it was time to think seriously about a husband. A stable partner for a lifetime relationship with a steady job and professional qualifications—a lawyer, doctor, computer engineer, accountant. The partner would most probably be living abroad. A political refugee or one who had gone for higher studies which spread over an almost indefinite period, or one who had decided that the good life was to be found only by the waters of Babylon.

For Meena, the responsibility of having an unmarried daughter on her hands was growing progressively weightier. Her somewhat frail shoulders would not bear it much longer. The young woman herself, Meena’s daughter, had survived very well on her own all these years and had developed a tough resilience which had stood her in good stead through childhood, adolescence and now to a slowly maturing womanhood. She was quite conscious of her charm, confident that the ultimate choice, when it came to acquiescing, would be hers. She could not imagine that any suitor would find her irresistible. Fairy tales like the Princess and the Swineherd were not for the likes of her.

Meena, too, now felt that she was growing older and needed to be looked after and assured of a place someday in her daughter’s home. That someday would have to be soon.