Soul(mate) searching...

It was that time of the year when my relatives deemed me fit for the tag of ‘Suitable Girl’ and plunged enthusiastically into matchmaking mode. As for my parents, while half the time was spent matching horoscopes with grooms-to-be, the other half was spent in opening online accounts on shaadi.com, bharatmatrimony.com etc, and scouring profiles of suitable boys.

It was only a matter of time that offers began to pour in. Photos of would-be grooms seemed to flood our mailbox, and information was duly exchanged.

Of course, having astrologers on both sides meant complications unforeseen (!) with either their side nay-saying the whole proposal or our side doing so.

It led one of my God uncles to wryly remark, “Why all of you are so caught up with these horror-scopes?”

We looked at him doubtfully since I seemed to show no inclination to find my own soulmate.

After an exhausting and exhaustive search, we finally got down to ‘a few good men’. Some of them happened to be abroad and accordingly, we set up a date for chatting.

Others were more eager to email, being more ‘forward’, and though as a shy girl I was hesitant, I hopped onto the bandwagon.

Of course, all this was peppered by sage advice from ‘old hands’ who warned of dire consequences of marrying abroad, painting a picture straight out of Scary Movie-Part Deux!

“Do you know that even though being abroad, some of them are die-hard madasanji (orthodox Tam-Brahms!) who expect their wife to dress in the whole nine-yards and recite the Vishnu Sahasranama at the break of dawn,” went one grand-aunt. If at first, I wasn’t nervous enough, all this helpful advice only made me more so.

And then came the grand day when I actually got to see my first ‘suitable boy’. Nervously, I did up my quite meagre toilette. And with my mother, I kept the house spic and span, complete with eats decorated upon the spiffy side-table. The first specimen happened to be a gentle one, though I was thrown off balance when he gallantly offered his hand (literally!) while exiting. In a fluster, I hastily took my hand back, and that was that.

Round two had a more dashing, valiant sort, who insisted on regaling me with songs of love, and passionate dialogues from Tamil movies.

Well, my mother felt he hadn’t really bothered to take the trouble with his personal appearance what with his unruly long hair and dirty fingernails. And she looked at him disapprovingly, as the young lad waxed eloquent. As for me, somehow I felt he was better suited for the role of copain than of a steady mate for life, and, well, we parted, albeit on genial terms.

Soon after came a non-vegetarian from Australia, who gallantly suggested we meet at a café, but his preferences made me visualise, with my fertile imagination, the vision of the to-be-groom tearing away at tangdi kebab, with a large mug of lager beer by his side, and that sort of sealed his fate.

Yet another was on the verge of changing his job and was ‘in the meanwhile sort of unemployed’ but yet ever so complacent that he would win my hand.

A suspicious yet ever-caring and doting brother immediately offered to speed off to Mumbai where the boy said he was settled and surveyed the chawl where he lived with its look straight out of Gharounda.

With its bathroom opening up first, followed by rooms in quick succession in the manner of a railway bogie, my dear brother remarked that with my reserved nature he could little see how I would blend in here, and the matter was closed there.

In between, we dropped by to Chennai to respond to the invitation of a would-be groom. His mother, who sincerely described her belief in the other life, moved about from room to room dispelling evil spirits with the fragrance of incense sticks while chanting mantras under her breath. She was a good-natured woman, sure, but it was clear that with my firm grounding in the sciences, I would really not fit in here...

So, I vacillated from eager-beaver to indifferent to undecided to the utter exasperation of my doting parents. Clearly, it was beginning to be difficult to please me, on top of that, I had a family that was a stickler for perfection.

Finally, I threw up my hands and told my family outright, “Shaadi koi gudde gudiyon ka khel nahin hai.” (Marriage isn’t a game for dolls), and if I was meant to find the right person, well, I would most definitely.

After all, marriages are fixed in heaven and, well, if destined, someone somewhere would definitely be there for me.