As soon as I enter the living room, I find the empty teacups shoved to the side tables in a hurry; the forks and knives are everywhere on the table amidst the chirping evening birds.
Bachelor no more
As soon as I enter the living room, I find the empty teacups shoved to the side tables in a hurry; the forks and knives are everywhere on the table amidst the chirping evening birds. Everything is explicitly showing the only eastern norm the invitees have profoundly observed while filling their plates; they not only leave in awe, but also successfully leave an impeccable impression on my parents.
I’m 26. I turned 26 three months ago and when I told my parents that I would be turning 27 next summer, they created a scene. It was the first time I felt ashamed of telling someone my age. Until then, I used to think the society was cruel to the girls only. However, boys are also the target. They are always persuaded to say “I do” either because their Lady Luck is already a princess of a billionaire or they have (sadly) fallen in the muddy pothole of love.
I muster a lot of courage and finally ask my parents about the girl they are discussing. And to my utter astonishment, she is “marriageable”. She is about to graduate, can challengingly bake every exciting recipe and can expertly drive her brother’s car.
I am forced to have a casual lunch with “the girl” and my prospective in-laws the next day.
*****************
Everyone is trying hard to break the uncomfortable pauses in conversation except me, because I don’t want to. I am silently cursing and questioning the reason behind the fake emoticons thrown at me. Thanks to the manners I’ve learnt and practised all my life, I make an excuse and go straight to the rest room because I’m about to puke like a toddler.
*****************
My phone beeps. My best friend has texted me the link of a leading daily magazine: a youngster suffering from gamophobia seeking a solution. I get back to my friend on this and explain to him why it is unethical to poke one’s nose in someone else’s business.
During this, I received a message. The person on the other end tells me that she is as miserable as I am and wants an amicable solution to this problem as well. I had nothing which could console my fiancée-to-be.
*****************
I’ve been made to sit on this photogenic sofa and I can smell the roses and lilies clinging to the backdrop. I am being repeatedly told by this person to tilt my head a little towards north-east and curve my lips so that the moments he is supposed to capture may become cheesy. The girl sitting on my left has presumably overcome her unknown fears.
I look at my friend and the broad grin plastered over his face. He comes towards me and hands me a crisp thousand-rupee note. My grandmother, who has been assigned the duty to collect the money, valiantly snatches it from me, but not before I have succeeded in reading the one-liner scribbled upon it in total sympathy for me: “Way to go.”
