To seal the deal: What is it about this rite of passage that leaves many moist-eyed?

It's that time of the year when the cold of winter makes way for spring and Cupid gets busy firing arrows. But a long, devoted courtship or running around trees in the Alpine snow does not ever have the same effect as watching someone propose to their beloved. What is it about this awww-inspiring rite of passage (a sort of final real deal) that leaves many moist-eyed? While the dominant image is of the man down on a knee ring in hand, depending on culture and social context it can be different strokes for different folks.

Santacruz resident Anish Damania who first met pathologist and activist Anjali Damania through a common friend way back in 1986 while both were still collegians remembers how Valentine’s Day became special for the duo. “Around the time Anjali had set up her diagnostic centre in the lane where I lived for a year or so. By 1992, we began chatting regularly and the first stirrings of love began.”

Anjali interrupts to correct him lovingly. “This is why I know I chose well. He’s being modest here. He’d helped me process bank papers for a loan to set up my pathology lab. As a CA, he knew which bank to approach and how to do these things and that’s how we went from being mere acquaintances to friends.”

In January 1992, Anish and a couple of friends made plans for a picnic to his ancestral Daman home. “Permission was granted to use the bungalow sowed seeds of a brisk courtship when we realised we were meant for each other,” he remembers. “As a final year CA student I had very meagre money at my disposal. Not knowing what to give her I bought her a box of strawberries. The fruits were not a common a middle-class indulgence back then and I thought it made for a rich gift,” he laughs.

Anjali had begun having feelings for Anish. “We came back from the trip on Feb 3rd and on Valentine’s Day, Anish came to my lab with a bouquet of roses and another box of strawberries.” If this wasn’t a pleasant surprise what followed was. She stepped out of her lab for a walk on the Western Express highway for a first ‘date.’ There, as the cars and trucks whizzed by, Anish proposed marriage. “Perhaps it was the noise around or just me seeking reassurance but I kept looking at him incredulous as he endearingly repeated himself.”

That was what did it for Anjali who said yes. Defying her parents’ opposition she eloped and was married off to Anish in an overnight marriage organised by the groom’s family at a small under construction Ganesh temple in Bandra East. “We didn’t have a mangalsutra and Anish’s aunt removed her own and made Anish tie that around my neck. And just like that both us 23-year-olds were officially married.”

Across the city, nonagenarian Kirtanlal Desai, who lives with four generations of his family (nine Desais in a 1,300 sq feet, three-bedroom hall kitchen home) in Mumbai’s Central Mumbai neighbourhood of Tardeo, breaks into a wistful smile as he is reminded that Valentine’s Day is around the corner. “That is where all this began,” he chuckles and indicates the laughter and sounds from a family session of scrabble coming from the drawing room. “There is no day I don’t miss my partner, but Valentine’s is always special,” he says reminiscing his late wife Shanta.

“Back then we did not know it is Valentine’s Day, but I remember 14th February 1943 vividly,” he recounts. “We grew up in houses across each other and our families were well acquainted. Given how close we were, jokes about us tying the knot had been cracked since school and I’d never lose an opportunity to steal glances at her in the balcony across right through my childhood. After my family brought up our tying the knot I wanted to know what she felt about spending her life with me.”

Since it was unheard of for unmarried couples to meet alone in those conservative times he sent her a note asking her to come to terrace to watch him kite-flying. As luck would have it the note reached Shanta’s sister-in-law and led to much teasing. 

“Sankranti is over but we know what kind of kites he wants to fly,” the women of the house had laughed and teased all day! “But she came decked to the terrace connected to ours. I wasn’t able to say the cheesy shayari I’d mugged as she laughed hysterically.”

When she turned to go, he asked her plainly, “If you’re not happy about marrying should I stop all arrangements?” he remembers. Alarmed, she said: “Don’t ever do anything like that!” Suddenly, she realised she had been too forthright and bashfully ran back. “In that instant I knew my feelings were reciprocated. Every Valentine’s this plays out in front of my eyes.” 

Nearly 600 km away internationally acclaimed designer Wendell Rodricks feels conventional proposals are only for movies. “Jerome Marrel and me met on a blind date and after six months decided to be together as a couple. In 1983, that we were deciding to live together was itself new. There was no concept of a proposal between gay men.”

Given that he was opting out of a relationship then, the Padma awardee was reluctant to meet Marrel. “But when I met Jerome I realised whoever got him was lucky. Little did I know that would be me.”

He’s said in his memoir The Green Room that he first thought Marrel was Lebanese. I wanted to get home quickly as the blind dinner date had turned into a disaster when the introducer didn’t turn up.”

Rodricks remembers how he did not even think of Marrel as a life partner then. “Relationships were the last thing on my mind as I focused on leaving Oman and to study fashion in the US, France or UK. But Cupid struck his arrow. I was totally unprepared to love a French man. It went against everything I imagined. To be in a relation with a white man was/is kind of taboo for Goans,” he laughs, “Since we look down on sleeping with the colonist/foreigner.”

But love happened despite the nationality. “Everywhere weve gone - Oman, USA, Turkey, Angola, Polynesia, India - it was about visas. I recall having to quit teaching at SNDT PV Polytechnic to save my relationship. Also Shilpa Shah at Garden Vareli, let me design from Istanbul,” he recollects. “I was in tears. In the end, it is India that accepted our love. France allowed us to sign a PACS civil union. And I’m ever grateful for this gift of acceptance from my state and country that allow us to now live in dignity, especially after the 377 verdict.”

Not everyone shuns the grand out-of-box propoals though. Ask writer Malay Desai who says he has “bragging rights for a lifetime about the mother-of-all-suprises proposal.” His communications professional wife Priyanka says nothing had prepared her for this. 2013 November surprise through the five years of dating. “He took me blindfolded to Juhu to the Pawan Hans base and when the blindfold came off I was gobsmacked to find myself in front of a helicopter.”

High up in the sky over the Arabian sea with the receding Mumbai skyline in the background Malay proposed. “I was besides myself with joy that he’d asked but even more blown away by how filmy it all was,” remembers Priyanka.

The father of two three-year-old twin daughters now Malay says the 25K plus cost was the last thing on his mind about the proposal. “This was a once-in-lifetime thing and the big one. So I just went for it.”

Well-known psychiatrist Pavan Sonar says it’s best to keep it organic. Given his long experience in counselling couples he should know. “It is not the gesture or words employed but the feeling behind that counts,” he says and adds, “Setting yourself up for unrealistic goals because you saw a fictional character do something grand might not be the best thing to do. Inability to replicate that moment can unnecessarily create feelings of inadequacy and remorse. This not only ruins that moment but can lead to lingering negativity too!”

Now only if Cupid would listen...