The saga of groom hunting

Every year, my landlord conveys his dire wish to my parents to receive my wedding card. Every year, I convey my dire wish to him to renew my rent agreement as well as my "singlehood." I wonder if I have disappointed other Gods as much as Cupid. He must be whining from above at my destiny, "This woman, what a waste!" more so because he must have manifested himself in hundreds of forms through hundreds of friends or random strangers, but each time, each time I have miserably failed him. While my Gods have given up on me, my parents have not. They have everything I lack- an undeterred vision, determination, and dedication to steer me through this ride of groom hunting.

You see, the only thing consistent throughout the 28 years of my existence is that I am an average, plain Jane in all aspects alike. So, I get intimidated and overwhelmed by flowery adjectives and fancy titles used in the bio and preference section of the prospects that show up on the matrimonial apps. Also, we all are racists by default to a harmless degree. Few admit it, and few do not.

One innocent gentleman was honest enough to admit that he wanted a "good looking, very fair white color, caste- kayaste, other subject to good looking" bride for his son. The son's photos were shown to us fondly by the mom. Frankly, I pity the guy. He must have had difficulty finding a Tinder match because while he might be handsome in real life, his non-photogenic face in his photos tells a different story altogether. Much like a job interview, I politely let them know I was ineligible for such a position, considering the criteria stated.

My parents have a grave reason to worry. I am 5 feet 6 inches tall, which is usually above average for girls. Every time I visit home, they assume I am still growing, even at this age. According to them and many others, the taller you are, the fewer chances you have of a suitor. You are, by and large, left with a limited choice. If men are short these days, that should be their problem. Not mine. Don't you agree? What stopped them from having sufficient Complan in their childhood?

Let me share another fact about me. Sometimes, my sense organs don't entirely function. My parents gesture to me every time to touch the feet of the suitor's parents to receive their blessings. This time, obediently, I bowed down, touching the feet of the guests entering our house. First was the mother. She blessed me and went inside and made herself comfortable. While I was going to do the same for the father, I saw the pair of legs moving away from me, and I followed them throughout the room, confused but without even looking up. When I was startled by giggling voices around, I finally looked up. It was the guy and not his father I had been trying to seek blessings from for so long.

Come the Corona days; the cards have changed. Meeting in person was practically impossible. We had to resort to reluctant virtual rendezvous. So, one fine day, I was struggling to meet the deadlines when I received a call from someone. The gentleman on the other end introduced himself as having gotten my contact from a matrimonial app and explained he was searching for a suitable prospect for his son. He asked me many questions about my family, education, and work, and while he was going to end the call, I respectfully wished him, "Good night, uncle. Thanks for calling". There was a brief silence from his side, followed by a bunch of words hurled at me that immediately made me regret my last few words. "Aunty, aunty, I am aunty, not uncle. You get that?" My futile apologies post our conversation knew no bounds.

Another thing I am yet to disclose about myself is that I have a beautiful mother. So, when you have a beautiful mother, strangely enough, age doesn't matter. Young men and their dads unabashedly try to swarm around like bees but conveniently shirk off when the conversation diverts to my marriage instead.

I have always been scared, timid, and submissive in all my relationships until this arranged marriage journey convinced me that my horoscope speaks otherwise. I didn't know that my stars come with a consequential disclaimer that shooed the suitors' families away when they asked for my date, time, and place of birth. Had I known this already, I would have used it to my advantage. My mom paid a telephonic consultation fee of Rs 1000 to an astrologer just to hear him foretell, "Your daughter will not get married until given a kawaj to neutralize the Manglik effect, which can cost somewhere around Rs 30,000". On the days that followed, I found myself echoing the "Bhakts" and spewing hate messages on the gentleman's YouTube videos.

Another interesting word I have stumbled upon in almost all the preference sections is "homely" for the profiles created and managed by parents. Going by the dictionary meaning, "homely" is more accurately used to describe things familiar with the home, such as a hotel or food. But I assume what they meant here is "gharelu".

Someone I had befriended during my days in Bangalore tied the knot recently. Since then, he has filled my Facebook timeline, Instagram, and WhatsApp with his romantic couple photoshoots. Out of the blue, he messages me, "Would you like to have an affair with me?" Taken aback, I wanted to know why. He concisely quantified four reasons before me. Since this is my stage, I can blatantly read those out here. "See, first… I am not attracted to my wife. Second, she isn't the type of girl I wanted. Third, we didn't have sex till now. So basically, my sex life is zero. Fourth, she is a 'homely' woman, while I wanted a wild and adventurous one. Tou sach bolu tou maja nahi aata yaar".

While I have always heard of a midlife crisis, this crisis of newlyweds going through their honeymoon phase is reasonably new to me, and this example is not just the only one. That night I stared into the mirror for a long. I might be happily - unhappily single by circumstances, by choice. But do I resemble a comforter for cry babies who have committed marriage blunders? Also, I would like to know if we have a law against moonlighting in relationships.

People need to realize we live in the 21st century. What applied to our parents and grandparents doesn't quite apply to us. We live in an era where we should be fiercely independent and care for our parents ourselves before we entirely heap that responsibility on our companions. So, I casually asked someone what kind of a person he was seeking. He coolly replied that a working professional who can share financial responsibilities with him, relocate to Delhi, look after the household, occasionally cook, supervise and instruct the domestic help in the house would be an ideal fit. Although these chores are inevitable in every family and should be taken up equally irrespective of gender, what bemused and bothered me was how explicitly this guy defined them when I had asked for qualities in the first place.

Okay, enough of this because if I go on, my rants never end. As much as I was reluctant to be a trophy wife myself, I did not want a mannequin kind of a husband either, who looks perfect only on #couplegoals #feeling_loved_with_the_prince_charming kind of posts but, in reality, has difficulty in standing up for what is right. Also, there is no linear definition of how someone should be. It is all about vibes. If we vibe, we are on the same ride. Otherwise not.

So, this entire path to finding a companion is undoubtedly a roller-coaster loaded with an assortment of feelings: butterflies, heartbreak, joy, and helplessness, to name a few. Like a gamble, there are chances you might win or land up in some intense shit if you do not trust your instincts.

It took me time, guts, and a couple of therapies to hold my nerves together, but it was all worth it in the end. What people say about 'rainbows after rain' sounded cheesy but, surprisingly, turned out to be true. My story ushered into a beautiful climax I would like to narrate someday.