Chapter 4: Another Day, Another Boy.

The drive to Mysore was a familiar one, marked by regular pit stops. Vadas at the Tiffany’s (of course, from the older outlet), a visit to the family temple & then lunch at Mysore. Everything, on auto pilot.

CUT TO THE DRAWING ROOM SCENE (Characters include two sets of parents, Anita’s grandparents, Prospective’s sister, Prospective’s grandmother who cannot see or hear, Prospective’s aunt & uncle, and of course Anita, & the boy.)

Now if you’ve had the good fortune to be a part of these set ups, you know very well that the room & the conversations naturally divide into two halves. The men discuss politics & business, while the women are forced into polite conversations about families, education, talent & hobbies of all parties involved. And today was no different.

Our son is extremely outspoken & outgoing, said one mother to the other.

Anita is more like her father, replied Sandhya, a bit reserved, she takes time to open up to people.

But she’s been raised very well, not one word spoken out of line, interjected Anita’s grandmother.

If everyone was as good as was claimed, there would be no evil in the world. Just imagine the conversation Bin Laden or Saddam’s mothers & grandmothers would have had in an arranged marriage situation, if things were reversed (of course in a parallel universe, where their women were allowed to speak. DUH!).

My son’s a Robin Hood, very calm & respectful of his elders, does not party often, is in his bed by 10pm every night.

While the other mother quips, My son’s a freedom fighter, ready to sacrifice himself (or his body doubles) for his country.

Also, grandmothers make the best marketers, have you noticed? Mine can sell me like hot cakes, & those teary eyes, can melt anybody’s heart.

Anita was feeling heady. Feeling extremely conscious of the sheer number of people in the room, she felt the entire city had descended to watch her make a mockery of herself. Barely paying attention to anything or anyone, she continued to stare at her toes, smile politely & make eye contact, only when her name was mentioned or was spoken to. It was pathetic.

After a world of small talk, it was time to finally let the boy & the girl spend some quality time to assess their situation.

All the best! Shouted the boy’s uncle to them, as they made their way upstairs.

The boy grinned, the girl cringed.

It was their second meeting in two days, and they had practically run out of topics.

Anita, a modern girl, having travelled a bit of the world, and worked in the Media, was used to making quick decisions in life. Dawdling, wasn’t her scene. The boy having lived all his life in a small city, & not as well travelled as her (even within the country) was a Type-A dawdler. While her life was an intricate web spread around the world, his was restrictive. He thought to no end of himself & his family, she was pragmatic. He thought & cursed in Kannada, she thought in English, & cursed in Hindi.

So. How do you like my family?

(He grins too much, she thought) Ohh they are very sweet and soo talented.

Yea, they sing very well. What about you?

Nooo, not even to save my life. My grandmother does, if it helps, Anita replied, thinking about that one time she went to a karaoke, which also happened to be the last time she was ever invited to such events.

Some more gibberish later, she asked if they could move down & continue their conversation with the rest of the folks as it was getting late; a bit hesitant, he finally obliged.

So they made their way downstairs. One party eager (to leave), the other dissatisfied.

The same uncle yelled, “OHO! Welcome back!” And they both cringed.

The latter part of the evening was spent with Anita being interrogated by various members of the family, often charming them with her wit. Finally it was time to leave. Goodbyes exchanged and onward home. Once back in the car, it was obviously time to dissect the meeting, which had left everyone feeling dissatisfied.

Anita, you know, the boy kept trying to make eye contact with you, but you never looked at him, observed her father.

Really? When did this happen? I didn’t pay attention pops, I was busy fielding all the questions from his family.

I know, but I think he was expecting you to look at him as well. That’s what it looked like.

So, you think he’ll say no because I didn’t look at him often?

Maybe.

Of course, the alliance didn’t pan out. The boy felt that Anita wasn’t as invested in the relation as he was. And all was well again. But hey, at least it wasn’t as bad as being rejected for having a terrible caller tune, or the wrong postal code.

Finite