Hot Crazy Scale!
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Three consecutive
pings resonated from my phone. There was only one person in the world who loved
me enough to send 3 messages in a row. Mom – a woman with a mission. Her
mission? Finding Nimmo. Because after the wedding of my elder sisters that’s
the only thing left on her bucket list. Of course I know that she’ll find new
goals soon. Slimy, loud, hungry, pooping goals. But right now that’s not her
focus. Right now it’s to get her boy hitched so that like our dear Prime
Minister, she can find her own Nehru to blame. Though if you really think about
it, the argument of ’60 saal tumne is
desh ko chalaya’ does not really work in her favor.
G-90-Ag.S.pdf
SA 9711322685
When u free call me
Curiosity piqued, I
opened the document. For the purposes of this story I’m going to call her Sara
Agarwal. If that reminds you of Sara Ali Khan, so be it. The story does move in
that direction after a certain point.
Sara was an electronics
engineer from NIT Durgapur and an MBA from IIM Calcutta, presently working with
Aditya Birla’s life insurance division in Mumbai. But what really caught my
attention was not her degrees but her dad’s business. Don’t get me wrong, I’m
not one of those guys who aspire to
be “ghar jamai’s”. Tempted to be – yes.
I would like to look for my own sugar mommy. But unfortunately I don’t. The
thing was, I noticed that her dad had a biscuit manufacturing business – in
Kharagpur.
Kharagpur… if only I could
bathe once more
in thy damped old washrooms
with hard cement water
Kharagpur… thou a 2,100
acre campus full of jungles
because a campus in
Calcutta would be expensive
Kharagpur… thee land of
bhajans
and home of
counter-terrorists
If you’re
wondering why the mention of a town 120 km from Calcutta can make me poetgasm,
is because I spent four undergraduate years in that urban village. With that
came nostalgia which only comes when you hear about your alma mater after 6
years. It was like the mother ship calling me home.
So I got
interested. I delved into her profile, filled mostly with generic information
about her family, which I couldn't care less about—and I hoped she felt the
same way. Next came the pictures. The girl, to put it mildly, had a little
extra to love. I’m not saying she was plump (pardon my French), but if she were standing next to a plum, you’d
have some difficulty telling them apart. I know you shouldn’t judge someone on
the basis of their size and shape, especially when you’re looking to spend the
next 60 years together. Besides, I was no Chris Hemsworth either. Chris Pratt,
maybe yes.
So I called my
mom. Told her this looks good. Which is when my mom revealed the sponsors of
this rishta. Dear old Krishna mama.
Now Krishna mama is a really sweet person and growing up as his nephew was entertaining.
But that man has a knack for getting people married. Which is the weird hobby
to have. Specially since he gets no commissions in the dowry. But that’s just his
vibe. He’s been at it since as long as anyone can remember. He was the one who
hooked my mom and dad up. And let’s be honest, nothing good came out of that union.
But back to
Krishna mama. I think he just wants to complete his century, if it’s already
not done. Usually I refuse to meet anyone referred by him. Any person who wants
to get people married just for his personal records cannot be trusted. But this
time my mom ensured that I confirmed my interest before telling me the origin
of this profile. That should’ve been my red flag. But I was too taken aback by
her big degrees and bigger cheeks. Besides, she was from Kharagpur!
So I messaged her
if she’d like to meet up over the weekend. She told me she was in Bangalore
this weekend. And the weekend after that.
[We shall stop in the
middle of the story for an announcement in public interest.
GIRLS, when a guy asks you
out and you want to meet him but can’t, SUGGEST A DIFFERENT FUCKING DAY! Don’t
wait for him to ask you for three different times before he gives up.
BOYS, when you ask out a
girl and she says she’s busy but does not suggest an alternative, let that one
GO. Do not pursue. I repeat. Do not pursue.]
So I talked to her
for a few minutes on chat and figured she’s not interested. Talking to her I
also figured that she was either somewhat funny or very racist, I couldn’t tell
by her tone. But anyway, this was not going to move ahead so we kept the phone;
implicitly knowing we would never hear from each other again. My mom, in the
most professional manner called me up the next day for a status update. I told
her the girl did not seem interested. Mom heard me out and kept the phone. 8
minutes later I had a message from Sara.
‘Next Wednesday or
Thursday?’
My mom had pulled
some strings. Tu che. I checked my
calendar. Of course it was empty. Then I checked my boss’ calendar. He was out
of town on Wednesday.
‘Dinner on Wednesday?’ I replied.
And so we decided
to meet for dinner on Wednesday. She had a meeting close to my office so she
said she would come to Vile Parle. I suggested Tea Villa Café and so it was
set. Meanwhile we talked a bit over chat. I figured that this girl likes to
read and has good taste in food. Besides, she was from Kharagpur!
On the day I admit
I was slightly nervous. Since my boss was not in office, I took a full hour in
stalking the shit out of this girl. Even went through the comments of her
pictures and eventually, comments section of her friends’ pictures. Contacted
mutual friends who could give me some information. And stalked her dad’s
business because I had to look like I was doing something “official” at the
office. For once, this was a prospect I was actually looking forward to. When
the time came, she said was going to be late and asked me to order while I
waited. She was ‘famished’ she said.
After 20 minutes I
got a call from her. As I picked it up a hot girl saw me through the café glass
door and came in. Instinct said it was her. Memories of her pictures said it
wasn’t. This girl was not plump. Far from it. She had a warm smile and
sparkling eyes. She had a confident aura about her, and her presence seemed to
light up the place. I was so taken aback that I had to ask her if she’s Sara. The
Hot-Crazy scale flashed in front of my eyes. I re-evaluated our entire
conversation in my head. I found myself justifying her racism thinking, ‘a girl this hot is allowed to be that
racist.’
And so we got to
talking. After I got over how hot she was, which took a while, I was able to
talk to her like a normal person. She was a marketing major from IIM Calcutta.
They have this theory of under-selling and over-delivering in marketing. I
think she pulled it off with me. It was like showing me the menu for fresh-lime
sodas and then serving me with a shot of tequila. This was the exact opposite
of what my company does. We over-sell our acumen to the client and then I am
sent to manage their money. ME, the guy who lost 83% last quarter the stock
market (thank you Spicejet!), was asked to make our clients’ money fly.
It took me
half-an-hour and half-a-plate of cheesy nachos to acclimatize to the changed
conditions in my head. Once I did, I realized this was a fun person. We agreed
on the right points. And when we disagreed, I thought ‘opposites attract’ but that might just be parts of me that aren’t
in my head. As Podrik would say, ‘pyaar
aadmi ko sootiya bana deta hai.’ But I had a good time talking to her.
There were some good moments along the way which reinstated my belief that I
could be a full-time stand-up comedian. In Indore. She seemed positive and said
she’d like to meet me over the weekend. As I exited the café, violinists from Mohabbatein came out with me. After
three girls, my family had finally found the one. She was educated,
intelligent, articulate, and hot. Besides, she was from Kharagpur!
So I left her a
message before going to bed.
[You deleted this message]
Hey.
Had a good time today. Lemme know if you wanna meet up again sometime.
Good
night
And I woke up to
this.
Hey
Same
here
Sure
let’s plan something next week
Good
night
So I was waking up
to her now. Nice. I messaged her the next day. And the day after that, when I
asked her, ‘How’s your day coming along?’
Silence. There’s
only one thing that scares a man more than a woman’s words. Her silence. It’s
like the sound of the engine of a plane. You aren’t exactly comfortable with
the noise but you’re glad it’s there. And when that happens on text, you have
to live with it.
For two days lady
the miraculous lady Jesus stayed silent while the pilgrims lay in agony. She
came online. Went off. Changed her status message. It was almost as if she was
teasing me. Daring me. Now I’m no stranger to ghosting. I’ve done my
engineering and MBA. Needless to say, I’ve been on both sides of the ghosting
table. Usually on the receiving end because ghosting is a woman’s sword and a
man’s shield. So this was another ghosting. But it’d been a while for me and my
parts were rusty. She was testing my patience before I messaged her in
frustration.
Can
you at least be civil enough to say that you are not taking this forward
instead of abruptly ghosting out on me? This is why I don’t like arranged
marriages. And this is why I don’t like humans in general. Humans disappoint. Do
you know I’ve been obsessively thinking of you for the last two days? You’re
the first thought I have in the morning. The last before I go to bed. I check
my phone like a madman to see if you’ve replied. I can’t concentrate on work. I
can’t focus in the gym. I can’t pay attention to my Tinder date sitting in
front of me right now. I’m just checking my messages for you!
Of course I didn’t
press the “send” button to this. So I wrote, ‘Hey!’
She takes a full
24 hours. No, she takes 25 hours for extra measure.
‘Hey’ she replies.
Note, the
exclamation mark from my message is missing in hers. These are the subtleties
on texting in the 21st century that you need to keep mind of. The
missing vertical line with the dot at its end told me that she’d drawn the line
and put the dot in our rishta. So I
reply,
Hey!
Busy days?
It’s been another
two days. And somehow I hear only one voice in my head.
