ORKUT MATRIMONY

So this is how Indian mothers’ brains functioned.

Correction.

So this is how Indian mothers’ (whose daughters are doing BSc and whose daughters have only GUY friends, but only guy FRIENDS on Orkut) brains worked; although it wasn’t surprising. I knew it already___ the functioning of individuals belonging to this dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category. So where’s the catch?

I didn’t know my mother belonged to this category.

Yeah… what was I thinking? Wasn’t I also doing BSc? And didn’t I also have only GUY friends, but also only guy FRIENDS on Orkut? Sigh…

I had just been talking to my friend S___ no no, hold it; at least I can save him the embarrassment, right? Let’s call him… ummm… ok, yes. Let’s call him Neel. So I had been just talking to my friend Neel, for over 20 minutes now. In case you are wondering, let me tell you, this isn’t long. We had recently gotten into the nightly ritual of calling each other up, and talking till all the lights in the neighbourhood went out one by one. (Yeah, even the one in the ‘newly-married-and-still-in-marital-bliss’ couple’s house.) I got off the phone and came out into the drawing room to have a glass of water before I went off to meet Richard Gere and do things… of course in my dreams, what did you think? And there was mom, playing solitaire on the computer; waiting for dad to come back home.

‘Who was it?’ she asked.

‘Neel,’ I replied non-challantly.

‘How is he doing?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ I said, and sat down on the sofa. Yes, it was eleven-thirty; and yes, I had chemistry-practical next day morning at eight; but Mom looked like she could use some company.

Pause.

Long pause.

Maybe she didn’t need the company after all. It was just a passing comment. I made to get up and leave.

‘How old is he you said?’

‘What?’ I asked, a bit lost.

‘Neel. How old is he?’

‘I don’t know… maybe 23-24.’ Ok yes. The guy was my best friend. But we never discussed trivial things like age… we had a lot of other worldly things to talk about, right? But just then I began wondering… really how old was he? I didn’t know the age of a guy who was the only other person besides my old-world friends (that is, my friends from junior college; we were six of us, and all six in six different colleges and six different fields now) whom I’d told about my ex-boyfriend. And soon the questions just kept coming… What was his favourite colour? What was his favourite food? What was his best-friends name? And they gave me enough substance to talk about the next time we talked, which is to say, tomorrow night.

‘What has he studied?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Honestly, are you awake, or have you walked till here in your sleep?’

‘No, I am awake. I was just thinking.’

‘About Neel?’

‘Yes. I mean no. I mean… anyway, what were you asking?’ I said, shaking my head, and looking at mom’s face in profile. And just then I saw something___ something that sent my sleep to the dogs.

Mom was smiling.

Ok, she was smiling… again; so where is the catch?

She was smiling coy.

BOLLOCKS.

She was smiling in an ‘aw-look-at-my-daughter-all-grown-up-and-falling-in-love’ way. God! Help! SOS! Was I witnessing proof to the existence of the kind of dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category I previously talked about? Or more so proof to the fact that my Mom belonged to this category?

I imagined a thousand ways in which things could have proceeded after my phone call with Neel, had I not felt like my life depended on that glass of water I just had to have before I met Richard. (Oh, I told you, Richard Gere.)


a) I get off the phone and come to the drawing room to drink water. Mom is playing solitaire on the computer. I say ‘Good-night’, walk back to my room and sleep.
b) I get off the phone and come to the drawing room. Mom is fast asleep in her room. I hear her snore. i walk back to my room and sleep.
c) I get off the phone. I get into the bed and sleep.

But no. I had to come out. I had to come out; I had to sit to give Mom some company while she waited for dad to come, and I SIMPLY HAD TO get myself into this situation. Why couldn’t dad be on time for once?

‘What has he studied?’ Mom repeated. But this time, I heard her alright. I was now red-alert; antennas going round in wild circles.

‘MBA Finance.’ I answered.

‘Where does he work?’

GOD NO! PLEASE HELP ME!

‘Citi Group.’

By now I was trying to remember the last time I had prayed. My mind went back to when I was in school. Suddenly I was chanting ‘Lead Kindly Light’ in my head.

‘Is he alone?’

‘No, he has a younger sister. She is doing Engineering, first year.’ I provided mom with all the details even before she asked me. That’s what happens to me when I panic. People freeze; people go weak in the knees; I resort to non-stop, and often non-sensical blabbering.

And then came the final blow.

‘Has he thought of marriage?’

BOLLOCKS. EFFING BOLLOCKS.

Suddenly the sky darkened. Ok ya, it was already almost mid-night now, but I want to make this dramatic. So; suddenly the sky darkened, and I saw myself seated on an over-sized throne. I was wearing a red sari. Aargh. Aargh! Me? Red SARI? RED Sari? These words weren’t supposed to go together in one sentence; maybe atleast till I turned thirty. But that’s what I saw; me seated on an over-sized throne, wearing a red sari, and lots and lots of jewellery. And next to me was Neel, dressed in a navy blue suit and looking handsome.

Wait.

Did I just say handsome? Yes, I did! Oh my God! Mom was passing it onto me now! Let me just give you Neel’s character sketch in one line: he is not the kind of guy I’d actually get the hots for, ever! But if I were thirty and if someone suggested his name as a possible suitor for me, I wouldn’t have a good solid reason to say no.

Yes, he was looking handsome. And there was his sister, standing next to him, guarding his shoes. And there were his parents, looking onto me, their lovely bahu. And there were his friends, giving him thumbs-up every time he looked at them and secretly envying him. And there were my old-world friends, wondering if it was really Neel sitting next to me. And there was my Mom, dabbing here eyes every once in a while. And there was Dad at the door, welcoming the guests and they came with bouquets. Neel was leaning in to say something. Whatever it was he said made me go from pink to red to crimson in my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was back in the drawing room. Mom was still playing solitaire. ‘Mom, why are you doing this to me?’ I thought. But I could already see my doom. Career gone. Research plans ruined. Speed-dating plans ruined. And Richard! I just chose not to think about him.

‘I don’t know…’ I found myself saying. ‘we never talked about marriage!’

Pause.

‘But, why did you ask?’ I asked.

‘Mangal-maushi is looking for a match for Saili na… So I was just thinking. Maybe she could___’

But I wasn’t listening anymore… Ah! There was still goodness in the world! God existed! I was alive! Hallelujah! Long live the King! Long live the Queen! Long live Mom!

I did a mini-jig inwardly. But I was careful enough not to show it. I got up, kissed mom goodnight, and walked back to my room. I went through my stuff and finally found my iPod. I switched it on, turned the volume full, scrolled through the playlist and pressed the play button.

My mom did NOT belong to the dangerous and seemingly unrealistic category...

It was time to celebrate.