There is no harm in being a die hard romantic, and even if there was, I guess I still wouldn't be able to help it. Without further ado, let us begin the story. Well, you remember the cousin I told you about, who went on a tour with wife and daughter, while his dad was in the hospital? Not out of any obligation or some such thing, but I meant to visit the uncle for a while now (he's back at home). Since it has been raining almost everyday, our plan was getting deferred. Today as well, around 3 PM it became as dark as evening and the downpour started. But within an hour rain had apparently stopped, so dad agreed to meet me somewhere near their house. I hastily called a professor in the team to inform that I'd be leaving early, and as expected, he had some work ready for me. But he agreed that I could go home and do it. On I set off, and a colleague here also boarded the same bus. Well, there were couple of seats empty beside me, but he didn't care to come n sit, probably in fear of buying my ticket (poor thing missed out - because I only was planning to buy his ticket - but the conductor approached him first - he bought a single ticket and deliberately looked away, pretending he has never ever seen my face, though just a while back he was all engaged in small talk with me at the bus stop). So, after quite some time (and a lot of traffic jam) I noticed dad waiting in a sort of dry place, which was not waterlogged. He had noticed me and was waving at the bus, while I too rushed to the door. The conductor kept ushering dad..."come sir, come in quickly" thinking he wanted to board the bus. I explained to him that he is not waving to the bus but to me, and got down giving him a smile. The conductor was not at all happy - he had stopped the bus to get another passenger, not to witness this happy reunion of dad n daughter. So we walked down to their house, met three old gentlemen of varying degree of age, and a lady slightly younger than my mom. They were all very happy having this young person among them, and started fussing about, asking about my experiences abroad, which country I liked better, how I prefer spending my time - you know - as if I was this celebrity. Age has hampered their speech, not all their questions were quite clear, but I tried to talk to them as much as possible. My direct relative, the uncle, was quite sick, as I understood from the catheter running from his body, but he looked so serene and smiling that I couldn't help admiring him. Anyone can be happy in good health (though people who have nothing wrong with their health also tend to get depressed), but to have the same mindset with a failing health is the real challenge. I was careful enough not to mention my cousin's tour during our conversation, I was not even sure if he knew.
So, discussion gradually meandered to my marriage, as it usually does in all our visits with relatives. Everyone fails to understand why a girl with my sweetness, education and achievements is not able to get a suitable groom. And then the fun started. They apparently have couple of relatives, who are guys of my age, and they are unmarried. In between dad told them that I am not interested in a guy with a paunch or a balding head. So one of the guys had to be ruled out. The other guy is supposedly from my school, and worked in the same MNC I worked. He was described as this very cool guy, who knows a lot of household work, is very caring and can make people laugh. And to explain how he looks, I was told about this footballer Iniesta who plays for Spain, and the prospective groom is Iniesta with a lot more hair (I guess they meant hair on the head only :P)
So, I come home, take some rest, have a sumptuous dinner of tadka daal and roti, and finally set off to finish my work. And what work man, I had to prepare a list of candidates for tomorrow's interview. I was sent around 16 mails with CVs, of which thankfully 3 turned out to be linked in requests, one without an attachment and another with an application for some other project. Still, the rest 11 had unimaginable variety. From Arts graduate to Doctorate - there were all kinds. I yawned on and was quite bored - but there was reward waiting for me, if I finished the work. So somehow I managed it.
Then the stupid girl looks left and right, stealthily opens an incognito window, and keys in the following google search: Iniesta, Spain, Footballer. The practical person in me (who anyways is always being suppressed) - wanted to bang her head and commit suicide. The dreamer whispers, he's ok na d'bhai? Looks kinda cute. Why man, you were told the guy's full name, his current address, just check the real guy in google. Why go on to check how Iniesta looks? But then how do I explain that I want my dreams to linger a little while. See the real guy, like him, then he's not interested. Story gets over. See him and don't like him, story gets over even quicker. I don't like such stories. I like falling asleep, thinking about someone, who looks like someone else, and I don't have any clue about what he is like in reality, so that I can allow my imagination to spin around him. Seeing the real person would spoil the fun na? May be he's written some stupid comment in FB, or has written wrong English in his profile summary (quite unlikely though if he's from my school - you see, we are taught English in quite a fool proof way)...whatever...but no, I'd rather stick to the Iniesta look alike with his shock of hair (I have made it go curly already, to comply with my best friend's forecast of my husband being fair, short and curly haired). Well, no mention was made of his height, and Iniesta is fair, isn't he? So we seem to be quite on track this time...
For a change, I don't have a proper closing sentence today...I baffle myself, and yet, I love myself so so much, just because I can be this girl even after all that has happened in life. But never mind, I am still this staunch Argentina supporter...and I still adore Messi.
So, discussion gradually meandered to my marriage, as it usually does in all our visits with relatives. Everyone fails to understand why a girl with my sweetness, education and achievements is not able to get a suitable groom. And then the fun started. They apparently have couple of relatives, who are guys of my age, and they are unmarried. In between dad told them that I am not interested in a guy with a paunch or a balding head. So one of the guys had to be ruled out. The other guy is supposedly from my school, and worked in the same MNC I worked. He was described as this very cool guy, who knows a lot of household work, is very caring and can make people laugh. And to explain how he looks, I was told about this footballer Iniesta who plays for Spain, and the prospective groom is Iniesta with a lot more hair (I guess they meant hair on the head only :P)
So, I come home, take some rest, have a sumptuous dinner of tadka daal and roti, and finally set off to finish my work. And what work man, I had to prepare a list of candidates for tomorrow's interview. I was sent around 16 mails with CVs, of which thankfully 3 turned out to be linked in requests, one without an attachment and another with an application for some other project. Still, the rest 11 had unimaginable variety. From Arts graduate to Doctorate - there were all kinds. I yawned on and was quite bored - but there was reward waiting for me, if I finished the work. So somehow I managed it.
Then the stupid girl looks left and right, stealthily opens an incognito window, and keys in the following google search: Iniesta, Spain, Footballer. The practical person in me (who anyways is always being suppressed) - wanted to bang her head and commit suicide. The dreamer whispers, he's ok na d'bhai? Looks kinda cute. Why man, you were told the guy's full name, his current address, just check the real guy in google. Why go on to check how Iniesta looks? But then how do I explain that I want my dreams to linger a little while. See the real guy, like him, then he's not interested. Story gets over. See him and don't like him, story gets over even quicker. I don't like such stories. I like falling asleep, thinking about someone, who looks like someone else, and I don't have any clue about what he is like in reality, so that I can allow my imagination to spin around him. Seeing the real person would spoil the fun na? May be he's written some stupid comment in FB, or has written wrong English in his profile summary (quite unlikely though if he's from my school - you see, we are taught English in quite a fool proof way)...whatever...but no, I'd rather stick to the Iniesta look alike with his shock of hair (I have made it go curly already, to comply with my best friend's forecast of my husband being fair, short and curly haired). Well, no mention was made of his height, and Iniesta is fair, isn't he? So we seem to be quite on track this time...
For a change, I don't have a proper closing sentence today...I baffle myself, and yet, I love myself so so much, just because I can be this girl even after all that has happened in life. But never mind, I am still this staunch Argentina supporter...and I still adore Messi.
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