Gotra Of Love

They wouldn’t have met, though, if it weren’t for their fathers, who were friends. One day, Ashok’s father had a job for him—he had to help Mr Garg’s daughter, Anjali, with her MA admissions at the Aligarh Muslim University. Within days of their meeting, Ashok and Anjali knew nothing ever felt so strong, so right. Perhaps nothing is more genuine when you are 20. "We were hopelessly in love with each other, but knew ours was a hopeless case," says Ashok Singh, grinning at Mrs Singh, née Anjali Garg, now the mother of a teenaged boy and girl. She nods gently, seated in the living room of her home, as the children join in to complete the happy family portrait.

The Singhs are a slap on the face of casteist India. A full stop to all polemics on the issue. A revenge for every caste-cursed couple who were torn apart, or worse, killed.

It wasn’t easy. Ashok takes us back to Aligarh, circa 1977: "We knew how much we wanted to be together and just how much our parents would oppose it. A secret marriage was the only way out: it would be a fait accompli." They got married in a court of law the day after Ashok turned 21. Neither breathed a word at home. "My father was very conservative, there was no question of him agreeing to an inter-caste match, so we wanted to wait till both of us could support ourselves," says Anjali.

Soon, matters were precipitated in the time-honoured way: Anjali’s father arranged for a prospective groom to come and see her. A desperate Ashok confided in his father, who was angry, but not unreasonable. He invited Mr Garg home and explained the situation to him—that the couple had been impulsive, but were married now, and nothing would change that. Anjali’s father heard him out, but left without saying a word. That was the last the Singhs of saw him.

Mr Garg was a patriarch who brooked no nonsense from anyone, least of all his family. His was the only opinion that mattered—or was heard. Mrs Garg was completely under the spell of her husband’s overbearing personality. Even though her heart went out to her daughter, she remained silent. Anjali was their only daughter—they had three sons—and had a very special place in her father’s heart. Father dear, in fact, believed no groom would be good enough for his ‘fair, beautiful, MA pass girl’. He never imagined she’d do this to him.

"He asked my mother to tell me I should forget Ashok as he had plans for me," recalls Anjali. There was a total ban on any more meetings. Even writing a love letter under the circumstances was fraught with danger. The internet and mobile are standard tools of amorous communication today, but this was small-town UP of the ’70s where even a phone was hard to come by. Completely cut off from each other, Ashok and Anjali’s hearts grew fonder, minds more determined. Ashok made endless bicycle rounds of the street where Anjali lived. Just to get a glimpse of her. He grew a beard and must have begun to look pretty much like Devdas minus the alcohol. "I was mad about her," he recalls. But there was no sign of Anjali.

That was because Anjali was not around. She had been packed off to a distant hill station, where her father was then posted, along with her mother. The plan was to marry her off to an eligible boy from a respectable Brahmin family. Anjali managed to put all this down in a hurriedly written letter to Ashok. Before he knew it, he had hit the road, like Lochinvar, to rescue his love, with close friend Fazal. On reaching the town, they tried getting to Anjali, but failed. The house was fortified, with not a friendly soul in sight. Anjali’s father left for Aligarh one day, leaving her with her mother. Unaware of this, the young men did not dare to breach the firewall.

To avoid getting caught, Ashok changed his appearance, wore a hat and an overcoat and hovered around the neighbourhood, hoping for a fleeting sight of his lawfully wedded wife. Any undue risks would blow their only shot at rescuing Anjali. After waiting all day and terrified by a huge dog that belonged to a police officer next door—"the horrible mutt sniffed us all over endlessly, then decided to let us go"—Ashok and Fazal sat on a bench opposite the house. It was cold and dark. Fazal was so fed up he started singing. His familiar voice pierced the night and reached Anjali. It was Fazalbhai singing outside her window. She quietly came out: Ashok must have come along.

Early next morning, the couple was on their way to Aligarh. "My mother was a bit upset and didn’t speak to us for a while, but all was forgiven and forgotten later," says Ashok. In January 1980, Ashok and Anjali were married according to full Hindu rites in the presence of the entire Singh family and their friends. The Gargs were invited, but no one turned up.

Anjali’s father kept trying to persuade her to return home, as if none of this had happened. It didn’t help. He never spoke to his daughter again or allowed anyone from his family to meet or phone her. No letters were answered to, no calls were taken.

When Anjali visited her parents’ home briefly for her brother’s wedding, her father showed some residual affection, but without actually uttering a word. She had taken her one-year-old daughter along. But, no thaw. She has never gone back since and has got on with life—her work and home. She visited her mother in a hospital four years ago where she believes she saw her father from a distance. "I think it was him, but he did not seem to recognise me, he’s almost 80 now."

Anjali and Ashok’s story, fortunately, is not one of overt caste conflict, with lathi clashes or gunfights, where communities go to war, the police get involved and the relationship ends in a tragedy. The sort of story that makes frequent news in western UP, Haryana and Rajasthan. However, it has been no less traumatic. "Very few people know, or would believe that we were victims of a casteist society," says Ashok. The couple had to deal with rejection and some financial crises in their early days together. But now they almost look like a family in a McDonald’s ad.

Anjali has had to choose between the two most important men in her life—an adamant father and a madly-in-love husband. She has had to forget her family for the sake of her love. She feels hurt that her father first accused her of instigating her younger brother’s inter-caste marriage and then accepted it, but never forgave her.

Yet, she is perhaps as steadfast as her father is. After nearly 25 years of being married to Ashok, she hasn’t given up what she believed in. Nor has Ashok. They were determined never to let that invisible wall in Anjali’s father’s mind—of caste identity—come in the way of their happiness. They didn’t, even after being cast aside.