*Park Hyatt,' I said. The driver turned the car towards South Goa. My mother took out a plastic packet from her bag.

*Here, for you,' my mother said and passes a sari to Ananya's mother.

Ananya's mother turned around and took the packet. *Thank you,' she said.

*It's tussar silk,' my mother said, *I bought it from the Assam emporium.'

*Silk is very popular in the South also, we have Kanjeevaram saris,' Ananya's mother said and she kept the sari in her bag.

We didn't speak much until we reached the resort.

Hotel staff received us with a garland of flowers and a fruit-punch welcome drink. None of us had ever stayed in a five-star hotel.

*Isn't this expensive?' my mother said.

*They gave me a deal. I promised I'll get Citibank to do their annual conference here,' I said.

*Welcome, Mr Krish, we have two garden view rooms booked for you,' the receptionist said. *And I have some good news. One of the rooms, we are offering an upgrade to a larger, sea-view room.'

*Wow,' Ananya said, *I've never stayed in a sea-view room.'

Of course, Ananya and I weren't staying together. I was to share a room with my mother while Ananya would be with her parents. And since they were three of them, I made the choice.

*Ananya, your family can take the larger room. Mom and I will take the other one,' I said.

The bell-boys carried the luggage to our room. *Nice place, no?' I said to my mother as we passed a flower garden.

My mother didn't respond.

*Everything OK?' I said.

My mother gave a brief nod. She kept quiet until we had reached the room.

*They are very rude people,' my mother said.

*Who? The hotel staff?' I said as I opened the curtains to see the garden view.

*Shut up, these people you want to make your in-laws. Are they in-laws? They are making their son-in-law pick up luggage?'

*Huh? When?' I asked.

*At the airport. You don't even realise you have become their servant?'

*I....' I said, searching for a response, *I wanted to help.'

*Nonsense, and why did they take the sea-view room? We are the boy's side.'

*They are more people. Besides, do you care? Isn't the garden pretty?'

*Whatever, have you noticed their biggest blunder?' she said.

*What?'

*They didn't get anything. I gave their daughter two bangles. They should have some shame.'

In Punjabi terms, Ananya's parents had committed a cognizable offence. You don't meet the boy's side empty-handed. Ever.

*And I gave her a silk sari for two thousand bucks. She didn't even appreciate it.'

*She did.'

*No, she was bragging about her South saris,' my mother said.

This is one of the huge downsides of getting married. A guy has to get involved in discussion about saris and gold.

*Mom, we have come here to get to know them. Don't pre-judge, please. And now, get ready for dinner.'

*You will take their side only. You are trapped.' She muttered. *Stupid boy, doesn't know his own value.'

52.

Few things bring out the differences between Punjabis and Tamilians than buffet meals. Tamilians see it like any other meal. They will load up on white rice first, followed by daal and curds and anything that has little dots of mustard, coconut or curry leaves.

For Punjabis, food triggers an emotional response, like say music. And the array of dishes available in a buffet is akin to the Philharmonic orchestra. The idea is you load as many calories as possible onto one plate, as most party caterers charged based on the number of plates used. Also, like my mother explained since childhood, never take a dish that is easily prepared at home or whose ingredients are cheap. So, no yellow daal, boring gobi aloo or green salad.

The focus is on the chicken, dishes with dry fruits in them and exotic desserts.

*You can take more than one plate here, mom,' I said as she tossed three servings of butter chicken for me.

*Really? No extra charge?' she said.

We returned to our table. *You are having rice?' my mother said as she saw the others' plates.

They nodded as they ate with spoons. Their fingers itched to feel the squishy texture of rice mixed with curd and daal. Ananya had made them curb their primal instincts to prevent shocking my mother.

*Chicken is too good. Did you try?' my mother said and lifted up a piece to offer them.

*We are vegetarian,' Ananya's mother said coldly, even as the chicken leg hung mid-air.

*Oh,' mother said.

*It's OK, aunty, I will try it.' Ananya said.

We ate in much silence with only our chewing making a sound.

*Amma, something something,' Ananya whispered in Tamil, egging her on to talk.

*Your husband didn't come?' Ananya's mother said.

*No, he is not well. Doctor has told him not to travel by air,' my mother said.

*There is a train to Goa form Delhi,' Ananya's father supplied. Ananya gave her father a glance, making him return to his food.

*We don't travel by train,' my mother said, lying of course. I have no idea why.

She continued, *Actually, Punjabis are quite large-hearted people. We like to live well. When we meet people, we give them nice gifts.'

*Mom, do you want dessert? There is mango ice-cream,' I said.

She ignored me. *Yeah, we never meet anyone empty-handed. Oh and meeting the boy's side empty-handed is unthinkable,' my mother said as I gently stamped her foot.

*OK, I've booked a car for sightseeing tomorrow. Please be in the coffee shop by seven,' I said.

*Illa sightseeing,' Ananya's mother mumbled.

*Sure, we'll be there,' Ananya said.

Ananya and I met for a walk post-dinner at Park Hyatt's private beach.

*My parents are upset,' Ananya said, *your mother should learn to talk.'

The waves splashed the shore as many tourist couples walked hand-in-hand in front of us. I bet they weren't discussing the mood swings of their future in-laws.

*Your parents should know how to behave,' I said.

There we were, at one of the most romantic locations in India, having our first marital discord. In an Indian love marriage, by the time everyone gets on board, one wonders if there is any love left.

*How can they behave better?' she said.

*I will tell you. But you must do exactly as I said,' I said.

*If it is reasonable,' said my sensible girlfriend.

*Step one, buy my mother an expensive gift.'

*Really?'

*Yes, step two, when we go out in Goa tomorrow, always offer to pay.'

*Everywhere?'

*Yes, at restaurants, to taxis or anywhere else. And when you offer, she will say no. but insist, if needed, snatch her purse to prevent her from paying. In Punjabi, this is considered OK, even affectionate.'

Ananya's jaw went slack.

*Step three, never let me do any work when everyone's around. For example, at the breakfast table, tell your mother to bring toast for me.'

She snorted.

*That's what my mom expects. Do it,' I said.

Her face looked defiant.

*I beg you,' I said.

*Anything else?' she said.

*Yes, step four is to make love to me on the beach.'

*Nice try, pretty Punjabi boy. But sorry, nothing's happening until we cross the finish line now.'

*Ananya, c'mon,' I coaxed.

*We have to fix the family situation. I'm too tense to think of anything else,'

Ananya said.

*OK, if tomorrow goes well, then can we do it on the beach? We will call it Operation Beach Passion.'

*We'll see. Beach Passion,' she smiled and smacked my head. *Let's go back, my dad is waiting for me.'

The day tour of Goa went off without fireworks, mainly due to the presence of a friendly Goan tour guide. We went to Bom Jesus Basilica, the oldest church in Goa.

*Light a candle with someone you love,' the guide said. I had to choose between Ananya and my mother. Given the sensitivity of the trip, I went with the latter.

We also visited Dona Paula, the climax location for the movie Ek Duje Ke Liye.

"Famous movie shot here. North Indian boy, South Indian girl. Difficult to get along, so they die,' the guide said.

*What else could have happened?' my mother smirked. I let it pass.