This is how I ended up marrying M. It's not the full story, of course. I'm a celebrity and I need my privacy. I wear cooling glass when I go for walks.
The story began, very romantically, on Valentine's Day in the year 2009. That's an explosive statement to make in the State of Maharashtra, but such is my desire to pour forth my emoshuns. February 14th, 2009, fell on a Saturday. Since we'd had a power shutdown in office on a weekday that week, bossman decided we were going to work that Saturday. But shall a mere bossman come in the path of true lurrve? Nevaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.
A and I had decided to meet up for lunch, you see. Since we're both Press people (A used to work for The Hindu and I work for a world-famous bunny), our schedules rarely matched. But I was in a mood to bunk that Saturday and so I did. We met up at Spencer's because that's where the kewl folks spend Valentine's Day, machi. Neither of us was wearing skinny jeans with embroidery, but it was otherwise very romantic. The last time I'd stayed over at A's place, I'd left my kurta there. So A very thoughtfully wrapped it in old newspaper and brought it along with her as a Valentine's Day gift. To emphasize the point, A drew a large red heart on the paper and also scribbled some mighty poetry to go with the mood. It wasn't an Archies' card, but so what ya? Getting back your stinky kurta washed and hand-ironed is a gift you will appreciate when you get married (I'm so glad I get to make worldly-wise Reader's Digest statements now).
So after the lunch, I went back home, unwrapped the kurta, threw the newspaper on the floor (sorry, A, sorry if your heart is breaking into pieces ya. Reader's Digest statement: you will appreciate your mum better when you have to pick up the newspaper later yourself) and was generally tra-la.
A week goes by. My dad comes to me and starts talking about some online law course he's doing. Apparently, there was an error in one of the case studies he read that day. It was a case about Raj giving Rahul a Valentine's Day gift and some dispute ensuing from that. My dad laughed and asked me this brain-numbing question: How can Raj give Rahul a Valentine's Day gift? With the air of an MA Gender Studies who patiently explains to the rest of the world the alphabets, I said, "Duhh. They were gay. Obviously." My dad smiled nervously and then giggled nervously. I said, "Grow up!" and walked away, shaking my head sadly at how juvenile parents are these days.
A week goes by. Suddenly, I am accosted by Worried Mother. Worried Mothers have been the same since black and white, pesum padam cinema. Worried Mother informs me that she might have just guessed why is it that I'm not meeting any of the wonderful PhD, Oosa boys in the matrimony market. I am puzzled. Worried Mother asks me if I'm seeing someone. I say no. Then Worried Mother brings out the ace in the pack: why did A give you a gift for Valentine's Day?
Things fall into place. The jigsaw fits. The world shakes and rearranges itself into continents. A was honored that my parents chose her out of my entire set of friends to be my girlfriend. I was vastly entertained by the fine piece of drama. I never saw this coming and the plot took me so much by surprise that I just had to applaud. But after I finished laughing, I was proud of my folks for having considered the possibility that I was gay and their willingness to talk. TV really does revolutionize the household! After confessing that I was straight, I decided to do the unthinkable. For the sleepless nights they spent since my hotshot date with A, I decided to meet one boy and one boy only to please them.
If I didn't like the boy, I'd be let alone for the next few years. If I did, then...
The Life and Times of an Indian Homemaker » The interference of parents in the married life of their daughters…