This story started long long time ago when there were no satellite TV. We never knew what chakka jam and Nepal banda was. Hell, we didn’t even know congress and communist party existed. Of course we were all small. People had never heard of a CD player or a DVD for that matter. Lucky few had TV sets and Doordarshan channel. For the rest of the neighborhood, Sunday morning was like a pilgrimage. We went to the house that proudly possessed a TV set and watch the telecast of Ramayan. That great Hindu epic brought to life by some of the finest actors of their generation. Arun Govil always immortalized as the Ram; no wonder he ever got another decent job as an actor. I wasn’t among the lucky few who had TV in their own home. Actually the first TV we had was the one my mama got in his dowry but couldn’t take it to the village house because there was no electricity. Well, this must have happened at least two summer before that. I don’t remember the exact date but it must be summer vacation as Sunday during other times I would be in school. There was this old lady in our neighborhood. I believe she knew everyone. She knew us or so I thought and we weren’t even important family then. We actually just moved there. One day she just peeked through our gate and asked if anyone wants to go see the Ramayan on TV. My mom offered me to go with her. I wish I were more behaved. Still today, I don’t understand why I was sent with this unknown lady whereas my older brother and baby sister stayed home. I am grown up now so I just think it must have been destiny. Trust me I love my mom. “Everyone, put your slippers on the bottom of the stairs and then only can you come to the TV room,” the lady of the house ordered. I felt so stupid. I knew there were great chances of people coming to steal slippers at places like this and I had my new pairs. Good thing I had my pant on instead of a kattu. I put my brand new slippers in my back pocket each and covered it with my shirt. Finally we were ushered into the TV room. There must be at least twenty other people already in the room. I got a place right next to the TV but I couldn’t see it properly because their TV case was so big. The showcase hid half the screen. And then there she was. Smart, beautiful and with an attitude. She knew she was the one with the TV so she would order others to lower their head because she couldn’t see the screen from her sofa that was almost thrice her bottoms. God, I knew I was in love. I don’t remember what was going on in Ramayan for next four Sundays but I knew exactly what see did during those one and half hours of Ramayan. Of course Ramayan was one hour long but the ushering in and out took another 30 minutes. I guess I missed all the moral stories Ramayan was dispensing but I was so excited to go to that house on Sundays. All I remembered was Ram did something with that dhanus to get sita and I could have done so many thing else to make Saru my own. But all I could do was stare at her when she was intently watching the Ramayan. Summer ended, I went back to school. When I got back home during weekend I found out they, Saru’s family, left for Katmandu since her dad’s contract for whatever project was over. My friends from the neighborhood missed the family with TV but I missed Saru more. Of course , only I knew that. Fast forward, 15 years…….I am ok guy with American Green card and a job. No I didn’t get that green card in DV lottery. It’s my turn to get married. Mom is always right so I went back to Nepal. She had selection of girls who were ready to marry me even before seeing me. I doubt they will marry me for my face. “I like this girl saraswoti from chabahil,” why don’t you go see her.” My mom asks me “ sure” I reply. My brother and my Uncle along with me were going for the ride. It’s always exciting to spend time in Katmandu. We were all big fans of dance restaurant in Katmandu. We settled ourselves in a room at a hotel in sundhara and got drunken that night. Everyone knew I had dollars so the night was good for everyone in the room. My kaka never missed to mention everyone in the room that I have a green card and he was supposed to be my matchmaker. If the price were right I am pretty sure he would have gotten me married to a prostitute in the bar when I was drunk. Next morning was the big day. We were to see the girl and have lunch there and of course we were all hung over. Once inside the room, the so-called sarasotwi brought us our teas. Look and behold, she was the same saru. So much for my social criticism against arranged marriage and such. At that moment, I realized if I had known I was going to be the groom and saru the bride I would have said yes to our child marriage. Then we got married. We live in Cambridge, Ma now. We have a channel called AZN here and they show Chinese and Indian programs. The other day I came back from work I found saru watching an episode of Ramayan. “You know samir. I remember you from the time you came to watch TV at our home in Pokhara,” Saru tells me. “Really I don’t remember.” I reply. We were going to go to sleep. Saru says” don’t worry I liked you then too.” Pearljam