“All I am asking for is a daughter-in-law,” my mom said, irritated.
“Please...I am least interested, and I guess we have discussed this umpteen times,” I responded, sounding more irritated than my mom did.
“But why? All your friends have eventually got married, and many are younger to you.”
“So? You want me to commit the same mistake?”
“Idiot. I have been longing for grandchildren,” mom expressed her unfulfilled wish.
“If that’s the only reason to subject me to this lifelong torture, I wish I had a brother.”
“Listen, you turned 28 last month. You have a stable career with one of the most renowned IT companies. We are now an upper middle class family.” I was shocked at how my mother had prepared a list of favorable points to ‘sell’ me.
“I am not a commodity. And what is this upper middle class? A middle class family is a middle class family. This is nothing but a stupid distinction created by a set of moron people.”
“You mean us?” mom said, with raised eyebrows.
“I did not say that,” I replied, without looking at my mother.
“God, please give him some brains,” my mother prayed to the almighty, looking at the ceiling.
“This is not the right time to disturb God. It’s 1 in the morning,” I quipped.
It was a weekly activity. Saturday nights meant extended discussions late into the night, and the topic remained the same – my marriage.
“Are you in love with someone?” my dad spoke as he came out of the bedroom, failing to concentrate on his sleep, courtesy mother-son high-pitched discussion. I kept mum.
“Can I take your silence for a ‘Yes’?” my mother asked.
“No. For God sake, I don’t love anyone and I don’t want to marry. Period.”
I almost pushed my parents to their bedroom to end the never-ending discussion. My mother stared at me, not because I shoved her, but because another Saturday had passed and I was still not convinced to produce children and fulfill her grandchildren wish. My dad though seemed relieved that he would finally be able to sleep.
Half asleep, I checked the clock on my cellphone. It was 3. I realized my brain had been cluttered with thoughts for the last two hours. I will have to marry one day, isn't it? What was making me avoid this reality? My heart intervened, trying to analyze the reason. It was the concept of arranged marriage. The thought of committing myself to someone after a couple of meetings was scary. I wish I had been in love with someone, someone I knew for quite some time before making the most important decision of my life.
“What happened? It seems you haven’t slept properly the last night,” Meera, my colleague, asked while we sipped coffee at a cafeteria table.
“Well yes,” I paused for a while and then spoke, “May I ask you something…Are you happily married?”
“What kind of question is that?” Meera laughed, “Of course I am.”
Meera had recently got married and it was an arranged marriage. We had known each other really well for the last 2.5 years at office, and I thought it was okay to discuss my dilemma with her.
“Initially, I too was reluctant but marriage has changed my perception. Once you spend some time with your spouse, you fall in love. Then it’s no different,” my dear friend explained.
“What should I do then?”
“Just go for it. Your parents must have wished for a daughter-in-law,” Meera said.
“Wished? They’ll throw me out of the house if I do not agree to marry soon,” I said, sounding worried.
“Hmm....you may start with online portals. They are convenient, hassle-free, and there is no dearth of suitable profiles online. Just CCC.”
“CCC?” I asked, confused.
“Yup. Choose, Click, Connect. Yes, you have to pay fees if you really wish to contact someone, but that’s later on. Atleast initiate,” Meera said with a child-like excitement.
“I have to create a profile?” I asked the obvious.
“Any doubts? Don’t worry. I will help you.”
“Did you connect to Mehul through one of these portals?” I asked curiously.
“No actually. But I would have considered this medium if I hadn’t got married through the newspaper matrimonial column. TOI.”
“Hmm....got it. Thanks for your help. Will call you as and when I’ll have any doubts.”
“Sure buddy,” Meera said with her lovely smile.
I decided to secretly carry out Operation Marriage. That was not much of a problem as all it required was an internet connection and some privacy. I had both in my room.
Going by the word-of-mouth, I thought of creating an account on Jeevansaathi.com. As I created my profile, I went into a dizzy for the number of options it had. I called up Meera.
“Haanji, tell me,” Meera answered my call.
“I hope you are not busy.”
“Yes I am. Now tell me. Need help?” Meera had already figured out what my call was all about.
“There are a plethora of options. Is this all necessary to fill? I mean why do I need to mention what my weight is?” I asked, irritated, as I was slightly on the heavier side. Meera laughed out loud.
“Sorry. Could not control myself. You are so cute,” Meera said. “Not all options are mandatory. You may just fill the basic details. Don’t forget to add description about yourself and make sure to add a pic of yours.”
“Photograph?”
“Yes dear. That’s the first thing that would attract anybody to your profile. Isn’t it?” Meera stated.
“But you got to be attractive to attract someone, and I am just a guy-next-door,” I said.
“Arre, I mean it’s must to have a profile pic for better responses. Now get going.”
Coming sweetheart, I overheard Meera responding to her husband.
“Listen. Any more questions?” Meera asked, the hurriedness reflecting in her tone.
“No, no. I have bothered you much. Bye, good night.”
“Good night,” Meera disconnected the call.
I spent the next few days browsing profiles and shortlisting them. There were a few I refused, and there were many who rejected mine.
Over a span of two months, I had 6 profiles with mutual acceptance. Over this period, my response to mom changed from I-do-not-want-to-marry to I-am-thinking-about-it. That kept mom happy and enabled me buy time. Dad was happy as Saturday night discussions were on hold and he could sleep on time now.
“So, what’s up on marriage front?” Meera asked, as I caught up with her in the lift.
“There are a few I wish to get in touch with,” I told her.
“Great buddy, so you are spending a lot of time on internet these days,” Meera smiled.
“Yes, but I will have to talk to dad for paid membership. That would sound awkward.”
“Why awkward? I think it’s a good initiative. It’s your life.”
“Well, mom will be on cloud nine for sure hearing this,” I told Meera, as we stepped out of lift upon reaching the fourth floor.
That night at the dinner table with mom and dad, I decided to talk about it.
“Mom, I wanted to talk about…”
“Ssshh…the soap has resumed,” my mom interrupted, as her daily soap had resumed after the commercial break, and there was no question of any discussion now.
…marriage,” I finished my sentence.
Mom pressed the Mute button on the remote. I was shocked because mom had never allowed us to do that.
“No, no. We can talk later,” I said.
“Don’t worry. The repeat telecast is at 11:30 pm. Tell me.” My mom was smart enough, as she knew her daily soap would repeat, though I might not.
“Actually…” I looked at my dad. My dad stopped eating. “A friend of mine suggested me to register on a matrimony website, paid membership.”
“Beta, go ahead. You don’t need our permission,” Mom said, sounding delighted. My dad resumed eating.
“I have also shortlisted a few profiles,” I said hesitatingly. My mom switched off the television.
“Show me,” my mom pointed to the laptop lying on the table.
We spent the next one hour browsing profiles, and my mom kept pointing the negatives out of every prospective bride.
“Like this, I will never get married. What’s wrong with her? She is so beautiful,” I referred to one of the shortlisted profiles, whom mom rejected.
“Look who’s talking. This is real transformation. Our son is now desperate to get married,” dad laughed. I felt a bit embarrassed.
“You don’t say anything,” mom looked at dad. “Beta, beauty is temporary, virtues are forever. This girl doesn’t look decent,” mom continued, “That’s the reason your dad chose me…moral values.”
“But you are beautiful too,” dad told her wife. Romance never dies.
We finally zeroed on to two girls. I was amazed at how many filters these girls had to pass through before ‘reaching’ me. My parents decided to call the two families the next day for a one-to-one session.
“Mom, what’s for dinner today? I am very hungry.” It was a hectic day at office, and I even had to skip lunch.
“Beta, we were waiting for you. Should we call the girls’ parents?”
“After dinner. I want food.” I almost jumped on the floor, like a 4-year-old upon wanting a cute toy.
We hardly talked during dinner. No, it was not a cold war. The daily soap was on.
“What happened?” Dad asked mom, as she wiped off her tears.
“Disha…her husband cheated her. Look at her,” mom pointed to the television screen, “All men are dogs,” she murmured. I looked at dad and vice-versa. We both felt guilty.
“Anyways, let’s call up the Sahni family first. That’s their family name, right?” mom asked. I nodded.
Sunday morning. 12 noon. I was probably dressed up the best in recent times. My mom made full use of her make-up kit which she hadn’t used for a while now. I wondered what she would do on my wedding day!
We were supposed to meet the Sahni’s at around 1 at one of the shopping malls. We comfortably reached at 12:50 pm, and waited for the girl’s family to arrive.
“They will be here in another 10 minutes. I just had a word with them,” dad told us. I could notice many newly-wedded couples who seemed to be madly in love with each other. Not all of them were love marriages. Meera was right, I guess.
They were finally here. My heart skipped a beat when I first saw the girl. I did not expect this, but she was more beautiful than what her jeevansaathi profile portrayed her as. No wonder I was nervous.
“Hello,” I hesitatingly initiated conversation with the pretty girl after we settled down. The round of talks continued for a while and I seemed to have lost in her. We talked for almost half-an-hour, after which we dispersed.
“I think this girl has in it, all I wanted in my bahu,” my mom declared, as she adjusted her saree sitting at the rear seat.
“But this is the first girl we have met,” my dad argued. I looked at my mom through the rear view mirror.
“It’s a ‘Yes’ if you ask me,” I said as we drove back towards home.
“So, how was it like?” Meera asked, as we met for lunch at the office.
“Fantastic. I mean, she is a very sweet girl. I just loved interacting with her.”
“Did they seem interested?” Meera asked.
“Oh yes, very much. We are going to call them today to take things forward,” I told Meera, delighted. It did not last longer though.
“What? They refused?” I asked, astonished.
“I did not expect this either. They behaved otherwise when we had met,” dad said.
“I anyways feel she was not the right match for you son,” mom tried to ease my mood, which anybody on the earth could make out, was spoiled.
I dined earlier than usual and went to bed early. I knew I won’t be catching sleep soon.
5 more days had passed, and I told mom I was in no mood to meet another girl, not for now atleast. The rejection hurt. Mom didn’t pressurize much either.
“They called up an hour ago, profile ID UUU1953,” dad said, as I returned from the market.
“Who?”
“Don’t know. They said they have gone through your profile and expressed interest,” dad told.
I powered on my laptop upon dad’s insistence. Mom kept mum, though she stood next to me as I browsed the matrimony website.
“Let me look,” mom put on her glasses to have a closer look, “She looks okay.” My mother actually meant the girl got away with grace marks. We decided to meet.
The excitement was missing. I was probably overreacting, but half-an-hour can do the trick. Plus, this girl I was supposed to meet did not appeal to me to a great extent.
We reached a bit late, or I guess the girl’s family reached a bit early as I checked time on my wrist watch. It was sharp 5.
The girl’s father ordered coffee for everyone. Contrary to the first girl I had met, she was quite ordinary looking, and there were no surprises. She looked pretty much the same as her display picture.
“Do you smoke, or drink?” the girl popped up her first question.
“No, and you?” The girl seemed to be a bit surprised when asked about her drinking habits.
“Yes, I drink....Thums up,” the girl laughed, “and coffee as well,” as she sipped coffee from her cup.
This time, the chat lasted longer. We discussed our professional lives, career, hobbies, and all other stuff which could help us know each other. I realized our interests did not match, but something connected both of us.
My mom signaled me to stand up as it was 6:15. I actually did not realize, but it was late. I was not on a date with her.
“Did you like her?” dad asked after seeing off the girl’s family.
“Kind of. But I am not making up my mind this time. Let them contact us first,” I answered.
Once home, I opened my almirah and reached out for my school album.
“Vaibhav, could you please see who’s at the door. I am very busy,” mom yelled from the kitchen. I placed the album back in almirah.
“It’s Sharma aunty. Please don’t lend her another of your sarees,” I requested mom.
“Shut up. It’s none of your business,” mom pulled my ear. I laughed.
We sat in the living room the next day. Dad flipped through the newspaper pages. Mom cut the cauliflower brutally.
“I don’t think they are going to call,” I said, pessimistically. Both stared at me.
Dad’s cellphone rang.
“Namaskar Ji,” dad went into the other room. I gave mom a confused look.
“They liked our son,” dad announced, looking at mom. Mom looked at me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“What do you mean by you don’t know? You said you’ll let us know if they respond first,” mom asserted.
“Give me some time.”
“Okay. You can let us know by 8:15.” I looked at the wall clock. It read 8.
“Are you kidding? 15 minutes! You want me to decide my life in 15 minutes?” I shouted. Dad chuckled.
“Okay. Take 30. And don’t make excuses. It’s been 24 hours now since you met the girl.”
I quietly went inside my room, and stepped out after 45 minutes. Mom stood up, waiting for me to utter something, as if my decision would change the way people live in this part of the planet.
“Okay. You may call them up.”
I could actually figure out how happy mom was deep inside.
2 weeks later, we went to the girl’s place. They had already visited us the previous week and this was the last step before I could change my status to ‘Committed’ on all social networking sites.
I sat next to Smriti in a separate room. This was our second meeting and a chance to know each other a bit more.
“You are looking very nice,” I initiated chat with my almost-certain-fiancée.
“And you always do,” she smiled.
“Always?” I questioned, not really getting what she meant.
“Yes, even during the school days, though you used to dress pathetically, Golu.”
“Geetu?” I asked, stunned.
“Yes Mister, Geetu.” She sat comfortably, enjoying my expressions as they varied frequently.
“But you said you are Smriti, and you used to be so weighty during those days!” I exclaimed, still trying to come to terms with what I had just discovered.
“And you still are, my Golu,” she did a Ponds Googly Woogly Woosh, and pulled my cheeks. I held her hand.
“I hated my name, so changed it after school. No big deal,” she clarified.
“You know, I did pull out the class group photograph after meeting you, but then something happened and I kept it back....let me recall....Oh yes! Sharma aunty,” I told Geetu, with a pitch higher than usual.
“Ssshhh...who Sharma aunty?” Geetu asked.
“Forget it,” I smiled, now holding her hand firmly.
“So, you always knew I had a crush on you while we were together in class VII. You never paid any attention to me, huh?” Geetu complained, “Because I was fat?”
“You know that’s not the case. If you have any doubts, you can ask that friend of yours...Rashmi...yes, Rashmi was her name. Are you still in touch with her?”
“Yes, I talk to her occasionally. What should I ask her?” She sat closer to me.
“I was really very shy then, and always used to tell your friend how I felt about you.”
“But she never told me? I’ll kill her,” my gal turned a bit furious.
“No, no. I asked her not to. I was really a coward.”
“You made me wait so long,” Geetu said, sounding like she would cry anytime.
“It would be worth it, now,” I promised her, “But how did you find me?”
“Just a sweet coincidence, sweetheart,” she replied softly.
I stood up, and pulled her up closer to me. We both looked into each other’s eyes, making up for the lost time.
“Hug me.” Tears finally trickled down her cheeks. I hugged her tight, but not before I shut the door.
I called Meera, my dear colleague, after I reached home.
“Hey Meera. It’s love marriage for me!”
(End of story)
