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Reading Time: 4 minutes

Life and fiction crisscrossed twice. Soumya tells us about a young couple, his readers and fans, who, inspired by his elopement many moons ago, did an encore.

One of the greatest pleasures of a writer is feedback from readers. Any feedback is welcome, as we know we are being read, and praise is an intoxicant. But the greatest high is when you know that your story has somehow helped someone, somewhere.

I am occasionally gratified by readers reaching out to me, and some get connected on social media. And with a few we have met and become friends. They range from various nationalities, cultures, communities, social groups, and ages, but most of them are women. I suppose ladies are more inclined to take the step of reaching out to a writer they appreciate and letting them know, than their more reticent male counterparts; or perhaps just more women read. 

This time as the correspondent appeared to be a personable young lady, I was perhaps even happier.

Anyway, my story starts with just such an exchange, then a friend request on Facebook, which I accepted as I always do to request from readers.  This time as the correspondent appeared to be a personable young lady, I was perhaps even happier.  She claimed to be an Engineer MBA like almost everyone else from her generation. And she was working in the Financial Sector in a small place, her hometown. 

A Panellist

Sometime later, I was a panellist at a seminar held in that town where the host was the organisation she worked for.  This was pure serendipity and what was even more coincidental was that she was the compere of the event.  We met during the break. We exchanged contact details. And became actual friends.  I was relieved to find that she was who she claimed to be, which is not always true of Facebook friends. 

Incidentally, I have met a variety of my readers. They became Facebook or WhatsApp friends.

Incidentally, I have met a variety of my readers. They became Facebook or WhatsApp friends. And they all turned out to be who they claimed to be. An English lecturer from the Northeast, a dentist from Western India, a doctor from Central India, a school principal from the deep South, a grandmother from the capital, a restaurant owner from our Eastern Metropolis, a Chartered Accountant from a very small town, and a hijab wearing Ph. D. student from the walled city of an ancient town. 

Anyway, coming back to our story, we continue to chat over WhatsApp and occasionally share the usual jokes and small talk or give career counselling, when asked for.  Over time, she started confiding in matters of the heart. And I became a sort of agony uncle.

You can’t marry him.
Marry a Classmate

I came to know that she wanted to marry a classmate from her business school, who was from a different community and working in another small town at the end of the country.  They seemed perfectly matched with similar job profiles and taste. And knowing that the young man was also a wannabe writer, who had also read my book on the suggestion of this young lady, endeared him to me even further.  Even the families were similar, the fathers being minor government servants.

… the caste factor was so strong that the girl’s parents were dead against the match.

However, the caste factor was so strong that the girl’s parents were dead against the match. I kept assuring her that parents always come around as they care more for their children than for public opinion. And this is not Afghanistan. But this kid was convinced otherwise.

Over time the impasse wouldn’t break. And it took a toll on the young couple’s stress levels. There was even an attempt to restrict the young lady’s movement and forcibly marry her off to a person of her caste.

Driven to desperation they decided to escalate matters. One day, I got a call saying that she had read the marriage chapter of my book four times and decided to emulate us.

A Planned Escapade

Borrowing an idea from a recent hit film they planned their escapade carefully. Leaving for work as usual, she went instead to the railway station and took a train to the nearest city with an airport. From there she caught a flight to the capital city. The young man had meanwhile driven six hours and was waiting at the airport.

From there, the young lovebirds drive straight to the Arya Samaj temple…

From there, the young lovebirds drive straight to the Arya Samaj temple where guess what? Yours truly did plight the troth some three decades ago in circumstances quite similar.

They planned it in detail. booking tickets and temple in advance. And made a request that having inspired the adventure through my fiction, I must be present at the occasion for moral courage.

I was thrilled at the collateral damage or fallout that would hopefully bring happiness to these kids.

Of course, I did. Flattered at having done some good somewhere through my semi autobiographical fiction, which was merely intended to amuse and entertain and not educate. I was thrilled at the collateral damage or fallout that would hopefully bring happiness to these kids.

Déjà Vaux

There was a strong sense of Deja Vaux at the venue. The nervous couple quickly rushed through the brief ceremony cheered on by excited friends and cousins mostly from the boy’s side. I was the only guest of the young lady. Certificates obtained, we dined at a nearby restaurant and the brave couple started the long drive back to a new life and adventure.

May they be blessed with all the happiness and excitement…

May they be blessed with all the happiness and excitement that we went through. And receive the loving support that we received from our families once the initial shock wears off.

Visuals by Different Truths


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