A Suitable Boy

Come on!

Don't be shy!

Come on! Come on, quick... Ah.

See, there you are! Come on...

Do you want another one?

This one?

This one?

Which one do you want?

- Do you want this? - Lata!

Lata!

What are you doing?

Come inside this minute,

you have to get dressed for your sister's wedding!

Coming, Ma!

Come on!

Ha! Looking good, Varun Bhai!

Your sister, my brother.

Ominous.

I know.

How can she be so happy?

I know your brother better than Savita does.

He's my English lecturer.

And she's only met him once before today,

for one hour, chaperoned.

Just look at my father, glaring at me.

I'm supposed to be next.

I'm engaged to a girl from Banaras,

but I try not to think about it.

- Congratulations. - Daddy would be so proud!

He's with us.

- Congratulations. - Thank you, Mahesh-ji,

for marrying my daughter

- from your house. - Thank you.

Ma, you mustn't cry on Savita's wedding day!

Seeing her so happy, I think

how happy your father would have been.

You too will marry a boy I choose.

- Hmm... - I know what your "hmms" mean, young lady,

and I won't stand for them in this matter.

Look at your brother,

just standing there with that Meenakshi.

He should be seeing that the guests are having a gala time.

- Go and tell him now! - Ma!

Look around you.

A sea of brown.

Just like us.

No-one from Shell, no-one from Caltex.

- No whisky. - Aw!

And the bridegroom's family.

Do you think that if Daddy had survived,

we would have married into this small-town rabble from Brahmpur?

They seem fine to me.

Pran's father is the Revenue Minister.

And you think your opinion is of interest,

idle layabout like you?

- Yes. - Yes, what?

Yes, Arun Bhai.

Don't forget it, then.

Hard to imagine big thrills on the wedding night!

- Huh? - Hmm.

Where is this Apu? I know I should have got the ayah.

I'm thankful you're with us today.

When your father and brother moved to Pakistan four years ago,

I thought I was going to lose you as well.

Well, they made their choice.

I never saw sufficient reason to leave my own home.

I can't see my grandchildren playing cricket for Pakistan, can you?

It's good to see your son so well settled.

Yes. But, you see, Pran was never the problem.

Unfortunately, his younger brother is not so tractable.

Maan?

Something is troubling you, my friend.

What is it?

You know the Raja of Marh is building a temple to Shiva

- right next to the mosque? - I do.

It's a deliberate provocation,

but there's nothing we can do to stop it.

- But there are bound to be protests. - Hmm.

So many Muslims have gone away.

Half my family among them.

We remaining few should at least have a

place to pray in peace.

I'll try and speak to the Home Minister.

Thank you.

Where's Maan gone now?

Well, Firoz seems to have disappeared too, so...

- Mystery solved. - Huh!

To... the law!

Thank you.

- Mm... - And

to love!

Since we must have it.

I've had plenty.

To friendship, then.

Much purer than love,

and less problematic.

Stand straight, Maan.

I don't think I ever want to get married.

What else are you going to do?

Become a nun?

Ah!

It's all right, Ma, I was only joking!

Ha-ha!

What's good enough for your mother, and your mother's mother,

and your sister, is good enough for you!

We can't both marry Pran!

Home to Calcutta!

Why isn't Lata Bua coming with us?

Lata Bua has to stay in Brahmpur... to study.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, please.

Oh, my God!

- Darling! - Sorry.

Sorry, Arun Bhai.

And you really think

you're going to get into the Indian Administrative Service

when all you read is the racing columns?! Huh?

Ugh... If your father was alive,

he would have been Chairman of the Railway Board by now.

Private saloons all the way!

Huh?

Well, I am very pleased to get Savita settled,

and now I have another home to go to,

besides your place in Calcutta.

- Yes. - And I am feeling much more comfortable

about Lata, now that she's living with her sister.

I didn't like to think of her in that old university hostel.

You must help me to find a suitable boy for her. Arun?

Hmm? Do you hear me?

All right, Ma.

Miss Mehra, one moment!

With regret,

I'm unable to give this a grade.

James Joyce is not a suitable subject for you.

He's not even on the syllabus for the Modern British paper.

Dr. Kapoor is very keen on him.

Dr. Kapoor! Your tutor, and now your brother-in-law!

Apart from anything else, James Joyce

is Irish.

Are we clear?

- I suppose, but... - But?

TS Eliot is on the syllabus,

and he's American, isn't he?

TS Eliot is a very great writer indeed, and Joyce is not a writer

that young ladies should be reading at all.

Choose another subject, Miss Mehra.

Choose another subject!

Wasn't university supposed to be exploring everything?

But really, they just want us to explore the little bits

they've chosen for us.

Standing up to Professor Mishra!

An obedient little girl like you?!

Hello, Malati! Hello, Lata.

- It didn't do me any good, though, did it? - Ha-ha-ha!

Malati

I feel as if I'm going backwards!

What do you mean?

Last term, I was in University Hall with you,

and everything felt modern and free,

and we were 20th-century young women.

And now, I'm living with my sister and her husband,

and my mother too.

I can see my mother eyeing me up next.

He wouldn't have to be Khatri.

- Is it really so urgent? - So long as he was from a good,

respectable family, from our community.

Lata sometimes comes up with the idea

that she will not get married.

Do you think we can cure her of these... theories?

I'll see what I can do, Ma.

Meenakshi,

have you arranged to have Daddy's medals set yet?

Bring them now, and I will show you my idea.

Yes, now, please!

Top of the University in Physics and Engineering!

And the medals in those days!

24 carats!

Ah!

You see, I was thinking of a neck pendant for this one,

and the lid of a little box for that one.

Now, is that a lovely idea, or not?

Yes, Dadi.

"We also recall that R, the modulus of Z,

gives the distance of Z from O".

Oh!

I see you're interested in mathematics and poetry.

- That's unusual. - Hmm. Is that so?

That maths textbook, it's pretty advanced stuff.

My father's a maths professor at the university.

Oh.

Actually, I'm not really interested in maths at all.

Wonderful! Nor am I. I'm in the History Department.

I must go now.

My friend is waiting for me.

I suppose I've been disturbing you.

No.

In that case, may I ask your name?

Lata.

- Aren't you going to ask me mine? - No.

Come on, Malo, let's go.