The Inevitable (but a li’l ahead of expected schedule)

The inevitable has finally come.

Mother is convinced – don’t ask me how, for I have no access to the deep sciences that decide this sort of thing – that it is the ‘right time’ for me to be married.

It started out quite innocently, like most storms do. On a lazy Sunday evening mother casually asked me what I thought about marriage. I said I didn’t think anything about marriage. Not true, of course. There is no way I can not think anything about marriage – what with all my acquaintances getting married right, left and center (as the expression goes). I have lost count of how many friends have changed their profile pictures on Facebook from single subject to double. With marriage looking like the ‘in thing’ among my social circle, it was on all our conversations and thoughts. But one doesn’t share these with one’s mother.

Like I was saying, I said I didn’t think anything of marriage. She said well, it was high time I did. You are getting old, you know.

It is funny, how perspectives change. Until this marriage angle came along, I was perfectly at peace with my age. I think I rather fancied myself young and without a care in the world. Much like Little Red Riding Hood before she ran into the wolf. One would expect, that of all the people, my mother (what with her being the one who gave birth to me and all) should be the one with the most accurate idea of my age.

“I am not that old” I said. And added as an afterthought – “that you have to get worried”

“It’s not about your age now. Marriages have a lead time (she didn’t actually use the term ‘lead time’), and finding the right boy might take years. Two years is average. Look at it this way: if it takes 2 years to find a boy, you won’t be very old then. If we find him right away, you aren’t very young…”

I hmm-hmm’ed. I saw the parent had put quite some home work behind this whole casually-came-up conversation.

“… unless, you have found some one already”.

I blinked. Mother looked at me intensely. I blinked again. There was a sort of mild tension in the air.  

‘Er’ said I. Not one of my most eloquent days.

“All we want is a nice boy. We don’t have too many specifications (this time, she actually used the word ‘specifications’).

“….” I said

“So? Anyone?”

“Um, mm, er,  no.” (not one of my most coherent days, either)

A strange expression came over my mother’s face. I have known her for a long while – all my life, actually. I don’t remember seeing that expression.

“No?”

“No.”

“You have so many guy friends. No one among them?”

“Not one”.

To this day, I haven’t fathomed the expression that came over her face then. It was a sort of mix of disappointment and pride. It isn’t too possible to mix those two emotions – so you can try to imagine it.

“Fine, then. we’ll start looking out” she said with a resolute tone.

“Amma!” I said, horrified.

“What? Either you find one or we find one. But someone needs to do the finding. We need to find someone”. I don’t think I have heard the word ‘found’ being used so many times in one dialouge.

I tried digesting this sudden complication in the tides of my life.

I felt a pang of sorry for the unknown ‘someone’ who was going to ‘be found’. Much like a perfectly matching shade of lipstick. 

(PS: This line of subject has further stories to narrate, but one doesn’t want to bog down one’s rare readers with too much information at once. All in due time.)

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