‘Please, Sulo, please. He’s a good boy. He will be a kind husband,’ cried her mother, continuing to plead. Sulo cried the whole night through. Protested. Refused. The young man continued the search and ultimately was to find someone who was less selective. Sulo had had her way but her mother and all the others were greatly disappointed. She had found favour in their eyes, in the young man’s eyes, but she was adamant. Here Sulo asserted her rights as a young woman who had her own ideas of what her life partner should be like. This man was short and conscious of being short; that she would have to wear flat heels all her life was something irksome to Sulo. Not even the promise that he would bring her back home once in every two years. She was not prepared for the simple life he offered, she who loved pretty clothes, a social life, visiting people. Shut away from everyone, how could she indulge her avid curiosity for life—curiosity in a pleasant way, of course. She knew a great deal about many people, many families: how much older than the husband the wife is, how they occupy separate bedrooms, how the wife is critical of the husband and says that he is a frivolous man. She observed that all the cutlery must be laid out on the table even if it is only dhal and bread for the meal, how daughters are rebellious with dominating mothers, and so much else. Little intimate details that titillated her fancies about the intricacies of lives—a vicarious interest but one which showed her the pitfalls of an unsuitable marriage.

Rosie Aunty never gave up. More exchanges of photographs. More letters from anxious and despairing mothers who wanted wives for their sons who looked as if they were going to be confirmed bachelors or who might end up living with a foreign woman. Sulo’s mother was happy when she heard of the proposals—and she was confident that no one could resist her daughter, that untarnished, pure commodity who had still not had a passionate affair of the heart. A desirable object for a young man to bed and procreate with, carrying on the traditions he had embraced in the country of his birth.

For a change, Rosie Aunty brought a proposal from a lawyer who lived in Colombo. He had a car, a good income. Sulo could get a teaching post in an international school and enhance their income. He owned a house in the posh, elite part of the city—Colombo 7. The house was in the same area as that of a former Prime Minister of the country. There were no sisters in the family. There was an understanding mother-in-law. The in-laws would live separately. They would live in Sri Lanka and Sulo’s mother would also have a home. The young man was tall, good-looking, but he had one flaw. He was balding prematurely.