Joey was short for Jogindra. His village was spreading with Christianity, hence the name change.  Jogindra only stayed Jogindra for his father, who semi-raised him due to the lack of a living biological mother. Schooling was over, college came, and by the age of nineteen, it was time for marriage. His father needed the money. His dowry was overdue. 

Even though he'd never seen true love magic in the air, nor did he end up with a soulmate, he experienced love at first sight. She was 4 years junior to him, innocence attracted him, like any boy. She had recently moved from a neighboring village. Her father, a professor, was invited to teach at Joey’s college. It took a few weeks for the professor to settle and feel at home in his new job. Once he did, she entered the room with a silver tin full of dal, chawal, and sabaji. In english, that meant a box full of fresh food made by some female in the house for a male member of the family. She had this maturity of a mother, even with the age difference between them. Her father, educated, allowed her to grow a mind of bravery, unlike her cousins. 

She linked her eyes with Joey. His Christian friends whispered and laughed at the shame she was bringing to herself. The only women that pierced their eyes into the eyes of dogs, were prostitutes. For some reason Joey felt the need to protect her brave innocence, linking his eyes with hers for reassurance. Tingles nor butterflies appeared in his tummy. More of a familiarity, as if she understood his lifetime of loneliness, responsibility and plain boredom.  All he thought of doing in that moment was wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and squeezing her essence into his body. She grinned at Joey, but quickly changed her facials into an expression of panic, realizing her father’s presence was but in the men’s room. She quickly walked away. 

From that day on wards, eye contact became helping her hold the tiffins of errands she was given, to sitting under trees and solely staring. He never knew a woman could make such conversation, with consent and confidence. In the culture of history, liking a girl meant marrying her, not liking, then loving, and then marrying. Both of them were coming late to the ages of marriage. 

He asked her, “When do we set the date?” with a smirk, knowing that marriage was never an idea they brought up.

“Date? Shaadi? No thanks Joey,” she replied with a giggle. 

He didn’t react to the slight rejection she was offering, anyone woman would be lucky to have him, but no girl in all of the neighboring villages was quite like her. 

“Why not? Everyone keeps on reminding me, and I’m gonna be 20 this month. Why not just say yes? Which other man would let you reject a proposal of such a life”.

“You make it seem as if I won’t be forced to make you fresh rotis every morning you wake up,” trying to make the most serious conversation they had ever had into a joke. 

He quietly didn’t reply, both knowing an Indian man’s desires of a lethargic lifestyle. She understanding the significance of no reply, walked away from their spot under the tree. He didn’t hesitate or fight back, a knowing that she’d understand. That they would still end up together. An optimism no one had shown him through his entire childhood. He finally got up, as it started to rain into the monsoon, and ran back to his hay hut of a home. 

He runs in when he sees his uncle in surprise and jolts. He touches the feet of his elder, in respect and then goes in for a hug. “Beta!” his uncle says and pats him harshly on his back. This action of affection was only done in one moment of an Indian child’s life, it was the sharing of big news. He told Joey to sit down, and looked at one of Joey’s half sisters. She understood the eye contact, taking her uncle's shoes off, and pressing his feet, in a squatting position, much below the two men. He looked at Joey, expecting his nephew to follow in his footsteps, and accompany the role of being a male member of the family. Joey never came home to his sisters pressing his feet. His step mother never showed anger nor jealousy towards him, or his elder brothers, but no love nor affection. She didn’t expect her daughters to be pressing the feet of someone like Joey. He didn’t expect nor wish it, either. That was one of the only reasons why the professor’s daughter was able to love an Indian man. The way she’d talk about society and the strict norms of life, any man would not only raise his voice but his hand. Joey could never. He had no male father figure to look at, and wish to be like. His father’s face was but sickly and in bed. 

“My boy! I have great news for you! I just collected the money of the dowry of your future wife!” his uncle announced, Joey was speechless. He had no words, everyone in the village, including his professor, expected other. Everybody knew he was in love, and going to marry his professor’s daughter. 

“Chachu, with all respect, I don’t think that's possible,” Joey said.

“Of course it is possible, I have the money in my bag to show you! When shall we set the date?” his uncle replied.

“Date?… Uncle.. Chachu… I don’t…” Joey couldn’t finish his sentence. He knew he and his beloved had just had their first ‘fight’. But she was his true love. His uncle knew that. 

“Please, I beg of you. Return this money, I can’t do this Chachu..” Joey said handing the duffle bag back to his uncle. 

“My boy, that is not your choice. This is the best deal we could possibly dream of. She is uneducated, and over that, comes from a very big and wealthy family. They want her to live a simple life with a good looking boy, like you, Beta.”

Joey couldn’t argue, especially with an elder. His uncle was right, no woman, even his true love, could afford such a large dowry. 

“I don’t care. I will leave this family if you force me. I am in love with another. She expects marriage out of me. She didn’t just waste 9 months being with a boy like me for no reason. You must return this. This is a crime. You can’t give a word without my knowledge..” Joey replied. 

Joey’s uncle didn’t care. He had not only taken the money but spent more than half of it before showing it to Joey. The marriage was already set to be in less than a week. His uncle then dropped another bomb. 

“She is half blind and quite ugly to be frank,” his uncle proclaimed. Instead of telling his uncle that those words were not gonna help get him on board with the marriage, he understood. He nodded and didn’t hesitate to fight for his true love. 

“How much did you spend, already, and when is the date?” Joey asked. 

“You are so smart,” his uncle said, drunk evidently,

“More than half perhaps, and also your wedding is on Wednesday.”

The next day, when he walked into class, he didn’t make eye contact with the girl who walked in at 11:53 with a tiffin full of fresh dal, chawal, and sabaji. She looked at him, his friends whispered. Her father returned from the men’s room, gave her a kiss on her cheek, and saw her expression of shock. That evening she sat in their spot. She waited. He never came. On Wednesday, she heard the music. Her father didn’t give nor show her the invitation. He tried to raise the volume of the television so loud that she’d not hear the sounds from outside. But she did. 

Joey saw his life partner. She was short, dark in complexion, and half blind. No one would marry her, even with the money. If he had canceled the wedding, it would be impossible for a man to want an unwanted girl. He felt obliged to be the man his uncle wasn’t. 

The next morning, there were fresh rotis. Never allowing his eyes to meet hers.  After college, he joined the army. He left home for months, she, not even knowing if he was alive. He’d come back, and play with his four beautiful and dark children, but still never looked her into her eyes. She may have been half blind, but one eye of her’s still searched for affection and love. Even a chance.