Something different for a change for this weekend: ----- Harshawardhan_Bosham Nimkhedkar Nagpur, India >From http://www.tribuneindia.com/2007/20070122/edit.htm Monday, January 22, 2007, The marriage market by Raj Chatterjee Sixty or seventy years ago, the prospective sons-in-law rating was somewhat like this: ICS, Indian Army, IP, then called 'Imperial Police' followed by the other All-India services. Professional young men like doctors, lawyers, accountants came rather low on the list. At the time of which I write, there were about a dozen or so Indians in foreign firms, mostly British. Most of them held Oxford or Cambridge degrees and some of them had attended British public schools. They started on the same salaries as the ICS besides which they had numerous perks and non-taxable allowances unheard-of in the Services. And yet, strange to say, eagle-eyed mothers-in-law on the prowl looked upon them as second or third best. They lacked "status" and they were "box-wallahs" though they did not actually stand behind a counter. The situation changed after World War II and, with all due respect to the IAS and their less prestigious brethren, the wheel seemed to have turned full circle. Judicious parents with nubile daughters began casting glances at young men in British, or once-British firms. It was different in my time, as the following anecdote will show. As a young box-wallah I had a lot of travelling to do by road, rail or, believe it or not, even in bullock carts! On a visit to Bannu (NWFP) in the summer of 1938 I was dining with a captain and his charming wife. The captain, I am happy to say, was awarded a DSO in the Western Desert. He rose to the rank of Lieut-Gen but was passed over for the chief's post because he had fallen foul of the then PM, Mrs Indira Gandhi, possibly because he was not sufficiently subservient to her. Both he and his wife died several years ago. We were having coffee when another officer, a major, dropped in with his wife and daughter. Such after-dinner visits were in fashion those days, especially in lonely outposts of the Empire where the only other distractions were the club and the garrison cinema. To cut a long story short, I fell hook, line and sinker for the daughter who was pretty as a Peshawar peach. She was on a visit to her parents from Murree where she taught at a convent. After the visitors had departed I lost no time in making my feelings known to my host and his wife. They seemed quite taken up with the idea of arranging a match. On my return to Lahore, where I was posted at the time, I wrote to my captain friend urging him to press my suit with all possible haste. There was no reply to my letter. I wrote again and followed up my letter with another visit to Bannu despite the sizzling heat. "Sorry, old boy," said my friend. "The girl's parents have other plans for her. I didn't write because I thought you would get over your 'infatuation'." "But what's wrong with me?" I asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Nothing," said my friend except that you are not in the ICS or the army." Well, the girl got her ICS husband soon after the Bannu episode. I was pretty cut up at the time but, very soon, as my friend had hoped, I got over my "infatuation". The story has a happy ending. Twenty years later my "lost love" and I, both married to different partners, found ourselves in the same station. By that time, as I have said, government service had lost some of its glamour. At the lady's urgent request, I managed to get her son a job in my firm. Even before he was confirmed in his appointment, he had received half a dozen proposals of marriage. Very wisely, he accepted none of them. He waited till he was nearly 30 years of age and then married a girl of his own choice from outside his community. ==========================================================

>The captain, I am happy to say, was awarded a DSO in the Western Desert. He rose to the rank of Lieut-Gen but was passed over for the chief's post because he had fallen foul of the then PM, Mrs Indira Gandhi, possibly because he was not sufficiently subservient to her. Both he and his wife died several years ago< I wonder who this was ? Really can't make out who. Mandeep ----- Original Message ----- From: "Harshawardhan_Bosham Nimkhedkar" <bosham@gmail.com> To: <india-british-raj@rootsweb.com> Sent: Saturday, June 07, 2008 10:07 PM Subject: [INDIA-BRITISH-RAJ] The marriage market > Something different for a change for this weekend: > > ----- Harshawardhan_Bosham Nimkhedkar > Nagpur, India > > >>From http://www.tribuneindia.com/2007/20070122/edit.htm > > Monday, January 22, 2007, > > The marriage market > by Raj Chatterjee > > Sixty or seventy years ago, the prospective sons-in-law rating was > somewhat > like this: ICS, Indian Army, IP, then called 'Imperial Police' followed by > the > other All-India services. Professional young men like doctors, lawyers, > accountants came rather low on the list. > > At the time of which I write, there were about a dozen or so Indians in > foreign > firms, mostly British. Most of them held Oxford or Cambridge degrees and > some of them had attended British public schools. They started on the same > salaries as the ICS besides which they had numerous perks and non-taxable > allowances unheard-of in the Services. And yet, strange to say, eagle-eyed > mothers-in-law on the prowl looked upon them as second or third best. They > lacked "status" and they were "box-wallahs" though they did not actually > stand behind a counter. > > The situation changed after World War II and, with all due respect to the > IAS > and their less prestigious brethren, the wheel seemed to have turned full > circle. Judicious parents with nubile daughters began casting glances at > young > men in British, or once-British firms. > > It was different in my time, as the following anecdote will show. As a > young > box-wallah I had a lot of travelling to do by road, rail or, believe it or > not, > even in bullock carts! > > On a visit to Bannu (NWFP) in the summer of 1938 I was dining with a > captain and his charming wife. The captain, I am happy to say, was awarded > a DSO in the Western Desert. He rose to the rank of Lieut-Gen but was > passed over for the chief's post because he had fallen foul of the then > PM, > Mrs Indira Gandhi, possibly because he was not sufficiently subservient to > her. Both he and his wife died several years ago. > > We were having coffee when another officer, a major, dropped in with his > wife and daughter. Such after-dinner visits were in fashion those days, > especially in lonely outposts of the Empire where the only other > distractions > were the club and the garrison cinema. > > To cut a long story short, I fell hook, line and sinker for the daughter > who > was pretty as a Peshawar peach. She was on a visit to her parents from > Murree > where she taught at a convent. > > After the visitors had departed I lost no time in making my feelings known > to my host and his wife. They seemed quite taken up with the idea of > arranging > a match. > > On my return to Lahore, where I was posted at the time, I wrote to my > captain friend urging him to press my suit with all possible haste. There > was no reply to my letter. I wrote again and followed up my letter with > another visit to Bannu despite the sizzling heat. > > "Sorry, old boy," said my friend. "The girl's parents have other plans > for her. I didn't write because I thought you would get over your > 'infatuation'." > > "But what's wrong with me?" I asked with a sinking feeling in the > pit of my stomach. > > "Nothing," said my friend except that you are not in the ICS or the army." > > Well, the girl got her ICS husband soon after the Bannu episode. I was > pretty cut up at the time but, very soon, as my friend had hoped, I got > over my "infatuation". > > The story has a happy ending. Twenty years later my "lost love" and I, > both > married to different partners, found ourselves in the same station. By > that > time, as I have said, government service had lost some of its glamour. At > the lady's urgent request, I managed to get her son a job in my firm. Even > before he was confirmed in his appointment, he had received half a dozen > proposals of marriage. Very wisely, he accepted none of them. He waited > till he was nearly 30 years of age and then married a girl of his own > choice > from outside his community. > ========================================================== > > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > INDIA-BRITISH-RAJ-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without > the quotes in the subject and the body of the message