The Inevitable (but a li’l ahead of expected schedule) – 3

Story so far (Strongly reccomended read. Set the context, you see. It’s very important for us Authors, setting context.) -

Part 1 and Part 2

My low regard of time (therefore chronology) is matched equally by time’s (therefore chronology’s) low regard for me. While I perform badly in meticulous recording of things in the right order, things themselves seem to be bent on happening , that there isn’t too much chance for me to actually record them in the right order. Spins one’s head, this stuff does.

We had last left this story on things waiting to happen around the corner.

 So, the process was on. Mother was running me through eligible poor men. I was running past the e. p. men. The last two weeks of October had been quite hectic – I was either in the eastern part of the country or working late. The bright side of this was that mother took pity on me and let me off the hunt for two weeks. The flop side was that, on 1st of November, I had two weeks of work log. On a Sunday (yes, a Sunday again), I pulled together as much moral fiber as I could – there’s not much of it – and sat down before the computer. I went through the whole lot; my mother’s list and the list of people who had gotten in touch with us.

The range was big – there were tattooed dudes (“luking for a cool and fun lovin girl”) to uncles with remarkably concave hair-lines (“she should be a good wife to me and a good daughter to my parents”) to guys whom you couldn’t really place anywhere (“she should be a blend of traditional and modern”).

Well, the process of looking for a life partner was not at all how people had made it to be. Some of my friends had told me it was a painful thing to go through and some others had made it sound hilarious. It was neither; if I had to give it a phrase, I would call it ‘mildly interesting to mildly tiring’. Amidst being mildly interested, I glanced through a certain profile my mother was trying to draw my attention to. It contained a picture of a very serious looking bloke. Staring right into the camera. Serious looking people have an unfair competitive advantage – they look deep and contemplative even if they are actually morons. I am not saying this particular one was a moron, I am just remarking about serious-looking persons in general.

Anyway, so this serious-looking bloke had an interesting profile. His requirement in a prospective spouse was ‘zest for life’, apparently. That caught my interest. Seemed like a description I could live up to, you know. You can call me hare-brained, but you can not call me dull. I am the sort who climbs trees. I am the sort who honks a rudimentary tune when the driving gets boring. I brim with zest for life. I don’t know if tree-climbing and tune-honking was what he had in mind, but I was hooked anyway.

So I wrote to him. Then he wrote to me. Then I wrote back to him. Then he wrote back to me. Then I wrote to him … you get the trend. Right.

After some of the mail exchanging happened, I crossed the mental block against talking to unknown people on phone.I called him up. I talked. He talked back. We talked to each other – for four hours (give or take). Yes, four hours on the first call. I know that’s crazy. But I always get reassured by crazy – just as I get scared of anything sane.

We soon had to meet, of course. So there were lunches and teas.

Meanwhile, my mother was anxious again. Because I was seeing him. It fails me how mother manages to be anxious about both things – about me not seeing someone AND about me seeing someone.

‘Why are you worried, Amma? You wanted me to meet a good guy. I am meeting a good guy.’ (everyday )

‘But are you going to marry him?’

‘I don’t know that yet! Why should I tell that right away?’

‘Because what do I tell the others? So many people have gotten in touch’

‘Um, tell them I am seeing someone?’

‘I am not going to tell that to anyone until you confirm to me that you are going to marry this boy’.

***

Very soon, I confirmed.

After years of indecisive fickle-mindedness, I made the life-time of a confirmation in less than 2 weeks.

Hundreds of probabailities collapsed into one.

I don’t know when it was confirmed inside my head – may be when we sat in fine-dines and judged their loos, may be when he taught me how to use a chop-stick, may be when we copied movies (and shows) from each other’s computers, may be when we mulled over what tea to order ( Assam or Darjeeling), may be when we spent hours among musty second-hand  books in Blossom book store.

He wears glasses and gets a dimple when he smiles – what more can I say – I am hooked.

For good.

Just like that.

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