The person who said “Marriages are made in Heaven” must be shot dead…and with immediate effect. I am not the only female who holds that opinion. My notion of a marriage was a romantic affair. I believed that we know the ONE the instant we set eyes on them. After a decade of being under that romance spell, all I can say is “Balooney!”
Age 21: Oh, this is a wonderful age. You start with the feeling of being one with the universe. The world is under your feet and the hassle of studying just eased up. You are left free to make some choices and enjoy solitude with an ice cream Sundae or a good movie. Yes, that was Heaven for me. And suddenly, it began disappear. Aunties of all ages and sizes began to feel concern (jealous of that carefree status).
“What about getting her married?” they asked…to my mother, brother, father, uncle, aunty, grandma, servant, dhoodwala, and God alone knows who else. And there ended the Heaven I experienced after years of toiling on book after book. Before I knew it, the parade was on.
The tall guy with the geeky parents, the stout guy with the heavy qualifications, the doctor with the ABCD behind his name, etc were all among the long line that stood banging on our door in hopes of being my better half. I stood rooted to my room wondering where and when the Made in Heaven part would click. After long consideration, one lucky guy qualified for an interview with me (the traditional Pennu Kannal-seeing the Girl). There I was, looking and feeling hot in my sari (pun intended) ready to meet my other half.
Tall Guy: So, you speak English well, kya?
Me: I hope so, since that is the language I am speaking now…. (Moron)
Tall Guy: What is your future plan?
Me: Well… I…
Tall Guy: I want to have a wife who looks lovely, cooks well, loves to have children and takes care of me and my family. She must be a career woman….I won’t stop her from going to work….I think women must work or they will be bored.
Me: (Translation in mind) Wife must be beautiful, a chef, have reproduction capacity of a rabbit and be an efficient home nurse. No servant provided for the above duties and must earn a living.
Tall Guy: Did anyone ever tell you that you look beautiful? I love women who wear saris.
Me: Dozens, join the club. (I answered dryly)
Tall Guy: Truly, you are a Black Beauty.
Tall guy: My mom says I am too simple. I am a gold medalist and earn Rs.XXXXXXXXXX. My car is an Audi imported from….blah, blah, blah…..guess am too simple, na?
Me: (Nod Nod sleepily)
Tall guy: So do you like me?
Me: (Smile) Oh, I think Mum is calling. Cominggggggggg maaa.
Verdict: If that was my better half, please hand me a double barrel gun….no, I am not committing suicide. I am just searching for the idiot that said” Marriages……..”@#!?
Age 24: Independent, working woman, stubborn and not ready for any Marriages that are made in heaven (for me), but willing to attend those made for others. Now, the whole neighborhood is talking. Everyone has a brother, nephew, cousin, son, friend or relative who would be perfect for me. Bowing down to the pressure from my grandparents, my father permits a couple of suitors to come by. As luck would have it, two of them were scheduled to meet me on the same day and due to the monsoon season, one of them decided to come in early. This meant seeing the both of them at the same time! The result was well known in all circles of my family. My father took a quick decision and split the family into two. He, my brothers and I along with my uncle and his family would be stationed at our grandparent’s house to meet Suitor #1. Mum, my sister, my uncles from my mum’s side and their families would be at their house which was close by; to meet Suitor #2.
Suitor # 1 came in with his parents and the first thing everyone notices is that the boy’s mum has the biggest mole ever seen, on her nose. More like a grape on a muffin. To top it, she gave me the once over like I had algae sticking to my face. I had an irresistible urge to rub my face but held my hands to my side after the warning stare my father gave asking me to behave. So, the coffee gets served and the boy meets girl.
Boy: Did any one mention that you look beautiful?
Me: O…thanks (I might as well bat my eyelids while I am at it!)
Boy: Such pretty eyes!!
Me: What is your ambition? What do you see for our future?
Boy: Am an engineer. I am into animation….you know like Shaktiman…the action and all. I just love it. After marriage….well, I have to ask Mummy. She can cook well. Those cutlets, are they home made?
Me: Eh… (My brothers are sneering in the background and I can hear my aunt gasp and mutter a prayer …)
Boy: I love food, don’t you?
Me: You appreciation shows. (He was built healthy and his mother was stout)
Boy: What about you? What is your ambition?
Boy: You must give my mum the recipe to the cutlet. Do you cooks? You are a good listener.
Can we chat by email?
At this point, a thud was heard. I learnt that it was my aunt who fell over a stool in surprise.
Verdict: Neither the stool nor the suitor stood chance is surviving the interview.
In the meantime, Suitor # 2 arrived and the parents were inquiring on me. This is where Mission Impossible happened. The parents of Suitor #1 must not miss me while I see the next suitor. And the parents of Suitor #2 must not know of the other suitor.
Picture this: I smiled my way into the kitchen, while my mother was outside waiting with my sandals. I ducked for cover under the heavy foliage in front of the house, sneaked though the garden which was slippery like a thief, prayed that I would not land on my backside and ran bare headed into the rain. A van stood discreetly behind the stone gates with a door half open waiting to whisk me off to another prince charming while the queen with a mole and Mr. Shaktiman chewed away on the tasty cutlets. On reaching house #2, I sneak through the back gate, wash my feet, straighten my hair and walk in to serve coffee only to have…..Suitor #2 tell me, “Did any one mention that you look beautiful?”
Half an hour later, a repeat of the same process, except this time I am back to wish Suitor #1 good bye! So, if you are wondering how I got married….that is a whole new story.
Verdict: I am sure that the disclaimed for the saying read:
* Conditions apply.
**Subjected to parading, blah-blah, tasty treats, Mission Impossible skills and HOT saris**