Encounter 1:

We are meeting at a restaurant, somewhere central to both of us. He is late, but that’s alright; Delhi’s traffic is satanic if nothing else.

He finally arrives, we shake hands and after the ‘hellos and the how are yous’ type formalities are over, it’s down to business.

He seems quite alright, well spoken, well dressed. He starts to introduce himself, where he works, about his job profile, where all he has traveled, what music he likes and what food he likes etc.

Seems pretty aggressive on telling me about his likes and dislikes; alright, this is a man who is pretty confident about himself and rather forceful about his personality.

He talks about the dignitaries and the politicians he has met. I am okay with that, why should it be a bad thing? A self aware man is better than a leaf blowing in the wind. I like that about men.

It has been one hour. We are still talking about him.

Erm…can I ring the bells in my head now? He hasn’t really asked me a single question about myself. I didn’t even get a chance to change the subject to me!

He ordered the food; I mean he ordered the food for me.

“I don’t eat paneer,” I said with a subtle sarcasm.

“Who doesn’t eat paneer man,” he mutters and went on to order it.

Wao. We have been talking about you for the past one and a half hour (now); you ignore my dislikes and shove your boring and bland paneer dish on my face.

The ‘self aware’ man was slowly turning into the self obsessed dingbat. I will tell you what happened later. Wait for it.

Encounter 2

I met the guy in Delhi

I walked into the cafe. He came to the table and very visibly scanned his eyes from head to toe at me.

Wow man…at least be subtle about it, I thought.

Anyway, the conversation started. He started with asking about me. I introduced myself, my work, family etc etc.

Then came the-what I expect from my wife monologues, (yes, now you got it, these were all meetings in the arrange marriage set ups).

It started with him wanting her to look model-like fit. He wanted his wife to look fit and toned at all times. She should be working out every single day. She has to have that perfect figure.

I protested - What about after having children, women never look the same because of either hormonal changes or pregnancy complications etc; they might get some weight loss but they usually never look the same as before.

He responded by saying “then such a woman is purely lazy.” Then in the same breath he looked at me and said, “You look great, but if you just work out a little more you will look perfect.”

Wow wow…what just happened?! Are you for real man?

In the first ten minutes of the meeting, did you just body shame me?

You are not exactly Bradley Cooper looking yourself you asshole and I can tell a decent looking guy from miles away.

Alright, looks like I will need more coffee as a shock absorber because believe it or not, more was coming. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “

After marriage women need to change. This rock star personality of yours will have to go-if we do get ahead from this meeting. “

Oh really? Well what do you mean, your highness? I really wanted to say this but I thought, let the man spill his beans first. Bring it on boy!

He went on to say how I need to walk on the dotted line charted by the husband and priorities for a woman change, life becomes all about the husband and a woman needs to change her nature so on and so forth (bla bla bullshit basically.)

Then came the subtle insinuations on my profession. “Artist? Ok. But what do you really do?”

“I just told you I am a writer and an artist,” I said.” Okay.. okay…do you even earn any money?”

More coffee please.

Then he started talking on how his family has been dreaming of a destination wedding for him, somewhere abroad, and how he has been liking this new car, and then he said that whatever cash my parents would give we would use it very wisely and I don’t need to worry about anything.

I smiled.

Dear marriage prospect, why don’t you take your arrogant, dowry loaded expectations and shove it up your big contumelious baboonic ASS coz this isn’t 1950 and there’s no way am I going to be your bitch.

Oh and as far as the guy in the first encounter – after a whole one and a half hour of a self-infatuated monologue, just as the bill came he looked at the watch and said he had to run for a meeting he was late for; immediately left the table, leaving me to stare at the F&B service guy with a befuddled look and a bill to pay.

Ah, the glorious tradition of arrange marriage.

Believe me, these are just two episodes. The rabbit hole goes way deeper than this!

 

- Image credit: Menxp.in