“What kind of a wife do you want?” My parents asked me this question some 4 years ago and like most of the interviews I have faced, I was clueless. And I am still seeking for an answer. However, the search for my soul mate kick started last year when I was forced by the parents of both the side to go and meet a girl.
So here I was, knocking at her door. Her mother opened the door and by the look of her I soon realized to introduce myself as her daughter’s “could be would be” before to be taken as a salesman. Finally I was invited inside and the interview lasted for over an hour. At the end of it, the only person who looked to be genuinely interested in me was her mother. I doubt, given a chance, she might well have eloped with me in the same auto I came back. Actually it was a total chaos. I was interested in the girl, her mother pretended as if she wanted me to marry her younger daughter and sounded as if societal norms are forcing to hide her intentions. On the contrary I wanted a wife of my age. Finally the chaos ended in me being rejected.
That calls for a new search string and the result was to be found in my previous company. I could not hide the temptation and started using a tool for which all the Romeos and Juliet of this internet world must be thankful till Armageddon, chatting with both side pretending to be completely ignorant of the genesis of this process. After repeated requests, the girl agreed to grant me a meeting, and ran away within five minutes of meeting me. Next couple of days, I spent in front of the mirror scrutinizing if the word people use to explain my looks, terrible, should be replaced with horrible. The girl simply avoided meeting me thereafter although my ex-employer couldn’t arrange a bigger workplace for us to avoid accidental meetings. Every time I saw her, her looks forced me to realize either she did not know the meaning of word “smile” or I was the worst possible thing that could have happened to her. This was rejection number 2.
So that sends us back to the same search string with expectation of different, better and results with a changed expected result. My entire family and all my friends gave me loads of beauty tips and suavity lessons for my third encounter. I, along with the third result of same search string, decided to have a cup of coffee and lunch there after. I wanted the coffee to be as short as possible and rush for lunch. So we, rather I, started talking over the cup of coffee. She was unnaturally quiet for a female. Just a few questions here and there from her side. Like “what kind of a wife you want, working or non-working?” I answered and immediately responded with a question mixed with my innocence, “what kind of a husband you want, working or non-working?” Response was a killing glare which forced me to doubt on my mere existence. This was one of the rarest of instances of my life when my listening skills were not put to a stress test while meeting with a species of other side of sexual divide. I gave up talking after half an hour only to face a question “You seem to be a quiet person”. This surprised enhanced my hunger so I asked “Should we proceed for lunch?” “Do we necessarily have to go for lunch” was the answer pointing out the third rejection.
I some how managed to make excuses for yet another letdown and let my family members open the doors for me. Its all back to square one now and my disagreement with the definition of weaker sex is increasing day by day. Even if a fraternity, after being painfully verbose, common sensically non sensical, with logic as a distant dream and with understanding of word cricket as a game of aliens, has such a decision power in its hands that makes a male wonder if he is going to die virgin, it cannot be weaker sex. Just cannot be. Or as Suraj Badjatya forced SP Balsubramanyam to say..."Kudiyon ka hai jamaana".