Shaadi Waadi

Life moves fast, I mean really fast, I mean really really really fast. Just yesterday (actually 20 years ago), I was hanging onto my father's shirt for dear life when he had dropped me off at school on my first day. I remember sitting in the last seat and crying all through the day. I remember how five years later, I was trying to learn judo during my summer vacations and got so badly beaten up in the first tournament that I ran to my mother in front of all the spectators and contestants. I remember how yucky we used to feel if we had to talk to a girl, or worse, the teacher would make us sit with one.

Four years later, I would be staying up all night during the board exams preparation time to watch the Playboy channel on a channel, TB6 Mokba, which was to be banned by Sushma Swaraj after a month or so. I remember how my stomach was doing somersaults while I was waiting for the XII board exam results. I remember so many things, that its hard to believe they happened years ago.

As one approaches one's death, each new stage of life comes faster than the previous ones. Last Saturday, a new phase of my life begun, trying to find a girl for marriage.

Although I had told my parents I wasnt very interested (key word is very) in meeting someone, they had fixed up a meeting with the girl's parents this weekend. After a hectic day in a meeting discussing about chenchus and NREGS, I was not at all enthusiastic about going to someone's house and talking to their girl. But we went, the five of us, me, my parents, my uncle and aunt.

I was very apprehensive of how the meeting would go, but I guess its somewhat easier on the guy and his family than the girl's.

So, we went and we met. I couldnt keep smiling and had to bite my lip to keep from openly laughing. The reason was the conversation being carried out between our families. It was on all the topics one can find under the sun. From language to telengana to religion to politics to cricket to the origins of the recipe for sambhar. And then when the girl walked in, all the conversations stopped. It was like the aftermath of the hiroshima bomb...dead silence. I wondered why it was that way. The men started looking at the tv showing the match between Sri Lanka and Pakistan. The women were looking at each other. The girl was looking at her sister, I was looking at her sister.

I waited for a while hoping that somebody would tell us to talk alone if we wanted to, but nobody was willing to take the initiative. After about 10 minutes, my uncle leaned towards me and whispered, "If you two want to talk alone, you can take her outside." He reminded me of the shady dealers who used to approach you whispering "blue film, blue film" in palika bazaar.

I told him, "Of course. How can I talk to her in front of so many people?"

"Yes, you are right. You two go out to the balcony" Saying this, he just went back to watching the match.

I waited there, hoping that my uncle would do something, but he seemed to think that his part was over. Hence, I stood up. I could not wait any longer for it to end and for me to eat. I took her aside and we talked for close to 45 minutes. Near the end, I thought I heard my mom saying, "Looks like they have really hit it off". I had to do something so that the girl would reject me and not the other way around. Actually, I think she had already rejected me, but anyways just to be on the safe side, I told her about my drinking problem, my mood swings, and the occasional doping (subject to availability of the material). I also told her I hate going to temples, and doing poojas and all.

While leaving their home, her brother asked me for my number so that they could be in touch, to which the girl replied that its of no use since I stay in Srisailam. I smiled as I realized my work was done.

The strange part was that on our way back home, nobody in the car asked me about what I felt. The silence on the topic felt as if I had just been diagnosed with cancer. Again I had to take the initiative and I said that I did not like the girl, case closed.