Humans Of Coffee World

The Letter And The Spy

This story is close to my heart.

I wouldn't be writing here, if it weren't for this story.

My Nana (Maternal Grandfather) always used to say that he wanted to die before my Nani (Maternal Grandmother).

"I cannot bear to live in a world, where she doesn't breathe..."

He got his wish. April 1998

She followed him in death, a year late. April 1999.

Theirs wasn't a love marriage. In the 1960's, there wasn't really such things as love marriages. Nana used to say that theirs was a Arranged-turned-love marriage. My Nana's younger cousin (I call him Phiss. Don't ask. Seriously. Don't.) loves to retell the story of how my Nana married my Nani (primarily, because he himself was involved in the process).

My Nana traveled from India to Pakistan a few years after the Independence/Partition took place in 1947. He got his engineering degree from NED University in Karachi, which was a HUUGGEEE deal in those days. It's like, once your male child had an engineering degree, he was automatically labeled as "Eligible Bachelor" materiel. And scheming "Rishta Aunties" started pressing him and his mother to get him hitched.

One of these busybody aunties mentioned my Nani (Distantly related to Nana's family), who had just graduated 12th grade at that time. She was significantly (13-14 years) younger than him, but again that too was a norm.

"She is gorgeous. She can cook. She is shy...." the auntie pressed a grainy side-posed photo of my Nani on my Great-Grandmother (Nana's Mom). (I still have that photo jbtw. Nani was so camera-shy, she was laughingly running away from the photographer when the photo was captured.)

Anyways, there was one slight problem.

Nani lived in India. Across the border in another country. And her mother would likely not travel with her "Shy, Gorgeous, daughter" all the way to Pakistan, if my Nana wasn't dead serious about marrying her.

No skype.

No emailed photos.

There wasn't even a phone connection to the Village-like place that Nani lived in, in India.

Nana had to make a tough decision.

He had to agree to marry a girl he had never seen, or spoken to.

Then, in comes Phiss. (I apologize for the nickname. I was a baby when I made it up, I'll call him Uncle P, now on forward)

Anyways, Uncle P, was in his late teens at that time, and he used to travel a lot, between India and Pakistan with his friends, and often with his mother. They had some serious family estates back in Uttar Pradesh or something. (Uncle P's family later moved permanently to Karachi, Pakistan) Before going on one of his trips, my Nana asked him for a favor.

"Meet her (my Nani). And give me your honest opinions about her. I'm putting my faith in you. I trust your judgement."

Uncle P tried his best to comply.

He tracked down my Nani's place, and used to haunt her neighborhood, trying to catch sight of her. Simply knocking on her door and demanding to meet with an unmarried, young maiden, would have caused an uproar in those days, not to mention the fact that my Nani was extremely shy around strangers. Eventually, he convinced Nani's aunt and neighbor to let him spy on her through a window slit.

Houses in those days had thin walls, shared neighborhood doors, and essential to Uncle P's purpose; an upstairs window that offered a reasonable view into my Nani's veranda. He then pestered a mutual relative lady to ask her a set of important questions that my Nana wanted to know about her. (Sadly, I don't remember what they were.)

Uncle P was an excellent peeping Tom, in that he never let Nani know that she was being spied upon. He liked her a lot as a person. She wasn't only a pretty face, with an appealing innocence. But she also had a big heart, and an innate goodness that won him over.

"Marry her. Or I will, in a few years!" He excitedly dispatched a letter to his older cousin (my Nana), detailing the escapade.

My Nana, bless his soul, agreed to the marriage, based solely on the contents of that one letter, sent to him by a 19-year-old boy, with a penchant for stalking.

In a few weeks' time, Nani traveled with her mother to Pakistan, for the first time in her life, unaware that she would never be leaving this place as an unmarried woman.

Nana was the kind of blunt, extroverted, boisterous man, who unabashedly admitted being hopelessly in love with his wife.

Nani was the quiet, sweet kind. Who showed her love through every action of hers.

He gave her everything he ever owned.

She gave him six children, and unwavering devotion.

Theirs will always be my favorite love story. Old fashioned. Natural. Unpretentious.

To my Nana and Nani: I pray that both of you are together now. In the best of places. And that Allah grants you maghfirat, and the highest ranks in Jannat-ul-firdous. Ameen.

(If you can see the photos in description they were taken soon after their marriage; the left one is of Nana/Nani together. The right one has Nana Nani, The Spy and Random Relative)