Wedding Blues!

'Shaadi' biz is freakin' me out!

The ‘shaadi’ (marriage) business, that suddenly seems to have taken a dreadfully serious turn with my parents making an all-out effort to find me a ‘suitable boy’, has freaked me out completely, to say the least.

The last few days have been wearying - meeting two prospective grooms within a short span of 20 days is no mean biz for an arranged-marriage fearing soul like me.

The events were rendered all the more terrifying by their “official” status. It is pertinent to mention here that despite my almost 30 years behind me, I had, prior to these two, never met any man for marriage purpose.

Coming back to the colossal disasters. But a li’l bit of background first. Well, having exhausted themselves trying hard to convince me about at least “one” boy so lovingly and painstakingly discovered through other sources (read relatives, friends, fellow community members, colleagues, newspaper advertisements etc etc.) my parents had decided to explore the virtual matrimony world.

These two were hence, the discoveries of shaadi.com.

The first guy, who shared his name with a popular men’s suiting brand, approached dad. This was soon followed by a number of frantic calls from his father. Soon, a meeting was fixed for the forthcoming Sunday at our place.

All hell broke loose when the news was delivered to me. The usual cribbing, crying, shouting, howling, tantrum throwing and arguments followed. Parent power prevailed. I was to meet him on Sunday – sentence pronounced.

Unwillingly, I agreed but with my Right to Choice stated clearly and vociferously. But wait a minute! It was Saturday evening already and they were coming tomorrow!

Sulking and brooding, I went to bed looking forward to a dreadful, sleepless night. The brain was numb. It only knew that there was something weird about this guy which made me so disinterested. What was it, I did not know. And if I did not know, how could I expect to convince my parents. Had to meet him and his family!

Morning was worse. Mum wanted me to undergo a bleach-facial-threading-waxing routine before the “meeting”. Expectedly, I threw another fit. Avoiding any arguments, mum let me be and left the room to prepare for the evening ahead.

The entire day was spent on Skype with a dear friend who was determined to make things worse for me – teasing me and cracking jokes on my imaginary forthcoming wedding.  

Evening came. Mum forced me into dressing up for the occasion. The "baraat" landed bang on 7 pm. After the routine civilities, I was called in. First look at the “prospective son-in-law” of my parents told me he was a typical babu type – thick black SRK styled, hair heavily gelled and parted neatly in two halves, checked shirt in some boring hue paired with a neatly ironed, crisp black pair of trousers and impeccably sparkly black shoes (as seen only in Cherry Blossom advertisements till now.) Oh! He looks so boring, I thought to myself. 

No matter how boring he looked, I HAD to give him a chance. So, deciding to settle in the balcony facing my room, over a cup of strong aromatic coffee and legions of mum-made goodies, the “Mr Suiting Brand” and I started talking. Within minutes, the boring man revealed his real self. And no, he was not boring. He was super boring!

His day started with work, ended on work. “Social life? What is that?” murmured the “suiting brand” namesake under his breath when pointedly asked about his leisure activities.

Thankfully, the geek was vocal about his feelings and clearly pronounced that he was planning to get married not because he wanted a wife, but because his parents wanted a bahu. After all, he was happy with his blackberry, laptop and other sundry gizmos. And that was it!

The meeting was over within minutes after this. Probably because I was unable to hide my disdain for the “groom” or perhaps because I was too happy to have clinched a valid reason to validate my rejection of him.

Confidently, I informed and convinced my parents of what a loser the guy was and what a “bad husband” he will make. The show was over!

Happy ending to meeting I meant the beginning of part II.

Another prospective groom approached dad and was diverted towards me. Few chats down the line, and we had already shared quite a few details about our respective lives with each other, until, he proposed a meeting. Finding him to be comfortably amiable, I agreed.

Next day, being Sunday, was fixed. I landed at CCD and was warmly greeted by the man in question. Looking handsome and suave with neatly combed hair and causal yet stylish attire, he seemed to be just the kinds I had been looking for.

First few minutes were nice – as if I was dreaming. Everything was just so perfect! Just as I was beginning to feel comfortable in his presence, the man, being a man, started to check me out, head to toe, toe to head. His eyes were fixed on me and scanning every part of me as if he had X-Ray vision. Now this made me extremely uncomfortable.

Just as I was about to interrupt his visual voyage down my legs, he exclaimed: “You look nice and hot!”

Even before I could react, the man exposed himself as a sick-in-the-head, no-good sex maniac with words that I did not even care to listen to. And I say this, because all he had on his mind was the 3-letter word. A woman’s intellectual abilities, her sensitivity, her inner beauty, her emotional strengths, her temperament, her capabilities… all this had no place in his bill for his Ms Right. All he was interested was in sex! And he was very open about it.

“If a woman is not capable of great sex, she is no good as a wife,” he had announced. His last statement, though outright disgusting and based on some hideous theory known only to him, helped me in rejecting him in seconds, without a trace of remorse or guilt.

Needless to say, after two disastrous meetings, I have no interest whatsoever, in meeting any more prospective grooms.

And as I pen my feelings, I begin to wonder… Is there a perfect man somewhere, waiting to meet and fall in love with me? Or will I have to settle for someone who does not really fit my bill of Mr. Right?

I say….nayyyyyy!! I will wait… Until my prince charming comes riding a white stallion (or a motorbike/ car) and sweeps me off my feet!

And this hope, this optimism sets me apart from the rest…at least I like to believe that!