Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: AM Anonymous

Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: AM Anonymous

 I looked at her mask clad face. Her eyes looked at mine. I wasn't sure if they were smiling. The few moments between her greeting me and sitting down to eventually remove the mask and give a glimpse of her full face, seemed like an eternity. Her social media profiles detailed that she was an avid "people reader". I fumbled, listened to blank silences and looked at the blank wall of the cafe. The conversation trundled on, coughed, spluttered and....as they say......the date was history.

                                                            **************************

Appa paced briskly between his bedroom and the kitchen to complete his target 15000 steps for the day. We'd ushered in and ushered out the pandemic at our home. And what with his recovery and retirement,his life purpose as he proclaimed every day once in the morning, afternoon and in the night, was to see my brother employed and me married. 

 "We need to be more aggressive this time" he said, as he skimmed through his now voluminous database. "Look at the number of Nagashrees, Soumyas and Divyas you've rejected." he pointed, as though trying to establish a connection between the names and why the prospective alliances didn't work."But I've been rejected a fair number of times too...Appa" I said.  And each time I talked about my share of rejections, my hands automatically started patting the now regularly obvious paunch, thanks to the lockdown. "And why are we now looking at old data?" I asked, slightly irritated. He was about to answer the question as the doorbell rang and Mr. Manjunath entered.

Once upon a time a colleague of Appa, he had long retired. His son's marriage was done and dusted- the pride and relief evident on his face as he shared his experiences and (in his opinion) well meaning advice.

"Saar, your son is being very choosy..." I could hear him tell my father as they munched on the famous Subbamma store Kodbale in our living room. I'd long stopped sitting in the living room when these inevitable conversations happened. I listened to them from my room, trying to find that elusive nugget of wisdom that made these Uncles and Aunties with grandchildren  - more successful in their quest. Atleast more successful than my parents at the moment.

"Perfect marriages are a myth...be it arranged or love" he started off with the cliche. "Let me tell you what I did for my son. We made a list of 10 criteria for every prospective daughter-in-law. And awarded 10 points for each right tick. The moment the score crossed 50, we would add 10 grace marks. The moment the score crossed 60, we would add 10 more grace marks. So..by the time the score reached 60 - it was already an 80 percent. Good to proceed to discussions with the girls' parents. Our son married the third girl he met!"

I shuddered as I heard the rustle of pen on paper. My father was making note of the "Mr. Manjunath Method" as I christened it after Mr. Manjunath left that evening. Somehow it reminded me of the Duckworth Lewis method in cricket - and even there, results never went the right way. 

                                            *********************************************

The twelve of us in the room sat in a circle and held hands of those next to us on either side. We were all guys. We were all above 30. And we were all in this infinite loop of Arranged Matrimony that someone had forgotten to write an exit condition for. This was our fourth meeting in four months. We had chosen to call ourselves "AM Anonymous". The purpose of the group, as our President - an unmarried techie of thirty five -  had proclaimed in the first meeting was "To help each other in the quest of our soul mates through arranged matrimony". I eagerly helped expand the purpose and make it more lucid and bulleted. (Sorry, the detailed purpose statement is sacred and confidential. It now hangs proudly at our meeting location and reminds us of  our group ethos and camaraderie.)

"Does anyone have anything to share?" the President asked, his tone sombre. All of us knew through our WhatsApp group that he had been rejected for the 35th time on his 35th birthday. The magnanimity with which he allowed someone else to vent out first was overwhelming. 

The guy sitting next to me raised his hand and started. "I met an aspiring model through a community matrimony group last weekend. She was beautiful in the photographs and was well qualified. I looked forward for a week to meet her. We met and ordered coffee. Even before it was served, she said "So..this is not going to work. Your family would never accept my profession. Even my parents don't know the full story. I came here on their insistence. Let's not waste each others' time." The meat of the conversation had ended then and there. We meandered for some time around mundane stuff. She finished her coffee and left - insisting on paying the bill herself."

We sat there in silence for a minute, weighing the story in our minds before venturing a diplomatic opinion. 

"Thanks for sharing your story Member 10. We appreciate your courage. We are with you.  Now, any positives from the meeting?" The President asked. 

"Yeah! I got the entire plate of fries for myself!" quipped Member 10. We laughed heartily. And in the same vein he continued "Thanks to this wonderful bunch, I'm now able to see the light side of this ordeal. To AM Anonymous!" he shouted as we joined the cheering. 

"Wonderful, Member 10..we're always there for each other. Who next?" asked the President. Silence fell.

Member 3 put his hand up. " My parents introduced a profile to me a fortnight earlier ." he started. "I liked the picture instantly and was eager to meet. The horoscope too turned out a perfect match. We went to the girl's home and the family welcomed us graciously. The ice breaking was excellent and so was the Upma and Kesari Bath. Snacks ended and I was now eager to see the girl. You know, I'd pictured this moment of her walking from the room and parting the curtains to reveal her beautiful face. And how my heart would skip a beat at that instant.. The Kesari Bath and my expectations were making me giddy already. I nudged at my Mother and asked her to request the girl's parents to call the girl outside."

"And Lo! The father said "Oh...here she is!" Pointing at the girl sitting next to him the whole time. The girl had been sitting with us all this while. But she looked completely different from what we'd seen in the picture. I hurried to complete the one-on-one meeting with her. Our return journey was a stunned silence."

We sat in stunned silence too. This experience was definitely not new for any of us. But each time, it re-affirmed the gap between expectation and reality. "Pretty much summarizing life itself " like our President always said.

"It's ok Member 3. To be fair, all of us probably look different in our pictures than in reality. My advice though - would be to not get invested too much even before you meet" This was one reason I became part of AM Anonymous. The President was almost like a war veteran and seemed to have a solution to every scenario. I always thought he'd met more than 35 girls - for him to garner so much of experience.

"Could we have the final experience of the day?" he presently said. Member 1 volunteered.

"Dear Friends..." he began. He face seemed to be radiating a smile that was so uncharacteristic of the AM Anonymous meetings. We knew something was wrong(?!). "Thanks to all of you for your support these four months. This has been a journey of a lifetime. But it's finally time for me to bid goodbye to all of you. A girl accepted me last week and I feel I'm good too. We are proceeding to get engaged" He said, tears streaming down his eyes. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment as happiness, surprise, pride, relief and some jealousy whipped a heady cocktail in our minds. But we were defined by our purpose! Again, our President led the applause and standing ovation.

"This is the best way for a member to exit AM Anonymous. It means we have supported him and he has supported us.  His quest has come to an end. And it has given us a fine opportunity to render our anthem meaningfully today."

"Hum honge Kamyaab....." he started off and the group joined him in unison. "....Poora he vishwas..hum honge kamyab..ek din..." Member 1 was the most boisterous that day. As we saw him render the anthem with passion and purpose for one last time, our hearts were engulfed in a rush of hope. I could see a spark in the eyes of Member 10 and Member 3 who had the courage to share their stories. The President seemed to have forgotten his 35th rejection. I was able to forget characters like Mr. Manjunath for a while.

After the anthem, we did the customary group hug and repeated the club purpose (Sorry again - can't reveal that!). It was one down, eleven to go!

                                                                                                             *********************************************

"Yes Mr. George...yes...his birth star is  ____ and his Raashi is ____" Appa was busy on the phone when I entered home after the AM Anonymous meeting. Mr. George was a new name. And for obvious reasons, what would a Mr. George do with birth stars?  He turned the speaker on so I could listen to the conversation.

"Your son's birth star indicates that he would like Maddur Vada....is that true?" Mr George was saying, with insight. Appa looked at me, confused. He knew that I didn't have a preference, yet he was too deferential to completely reject Mr. George's claim. "He...more or less likes Maddur Vada....but he prefers Sambhar Vada..." he said, not able to ignore my stare as well. "Well...any Vada is basically vada, Sir...I meant...your son has an affinity for Vada because of his birth star" the voice at the other end continued, pleased at Appa confirming his hunch.  I threw my hands up in exasperation. After a certain Guruji and a Mr. Bhat who had diagnosed my planetary ailments and prescribed their dose of medication, we were know consulting a Christian priest who somehow still relied on Hindu birth stars. 

I sat in my room, reflecting on the AM Anonymous meeting. The familiar rustle of pen on paper was again audible, as Appa made notes from his discussion with Mr. George. So many people had randomly entered my life in the last couple of years - Mr. Manjunath, Guruji, Mr. Bhat, Alliance Aunty,(who kept sending random profiles without caring to know more about me or my preferences), Agony Anna (he was the one who introduced me to AM Anonymous) and now Mr. George. For all their sakes, for mine and mostly importantly for my parents' sake, I wished the ordeal ended soon.

I unlocked my phone and saw a message from Ms.____, the most recent girl I was supposed to court. I had sent her a "Hello...this is Alok here.." last evening and was still waiting for a response. "Hello Alok...how are you?" she'd said. And she was apparently online at the moment. I hurried to type out a couple of pleasantries and immediately suggested: 

"How about meeting tomorrow?" 

"Oh...we could do it next week...busy tomorrow" came the reply. I obviously had no choice.

Amma walked in the next moment. Everytime she came to me with her phone, I knew she had a new profile relayed by Alliance Aunty. Again, I had no choice.  "Alok, this girl is good and the parents want the two of you to meet next weekend". She served an ultimatum. 

"But there's already a Ms.___ I'm expected to chat up with. Should I chat up with this girl too? What if the messages get mixed up??!!!" I wondered aloud. 

Ohh..come on. You're keep boasting you're a Sales Guy don't you? Manage two clients then...." Amma said and walked out.

Appa lingered on for a moment more. "Listen Alok...this profile came in while I was having the conversation with Mr. George. It's auspicious. Apparently your planets are looking solid for the next two weeks!"

I knew I would never get a drift of the solar system. The planets and their crooked, wicked and benevolent moods which cast such a shadow on mere mortals like me. But I had to appreciate that for someone who'd not met a girl for multiple months, courting two of them suddenly seemed to improve my chances. Mr. George's analysis on Maddur Vada seemed to be bearing fruit already. My Salesforce suddenly had pipeline. And if there was a review, I could safely assign a probability. My livelihood hinged on opportunities, likelihoods and probabilities. So did my life, I realised.  

Both these developments meant I had something to share with my brothers at AM Anonymous when we met the next month. I would probably call the President and ask him how to approach this "Double Header" - I was almost sure he'd have this experience too in his overflowing bouquet. 

 I kept both the profiles side by side and tried to memorise their names with faces and occupations, so I wouldn't get confused. I stored their names distinctly on my phone, so there was not even a remote chance they would get mixed up....

My thoughts were interrupted as Akshay ran in smirking:

"Brother...you're going viral" he exclaimed, amidst uncontrollable laughter. "Check Facebook!"

I logged into the app. And my face went white with fear.

"Need prospective brides for a smart BE, MBA, 31 years. Brahmins." The post read. With the post were two of my latest pictures. Social Uncle had launched a bride hunt on social media!!!

                                                                                                 - 4th April 2021

P.S: Please don't Google AM Anonymous. They don't have a website.

Events dramatised for fiction!

Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: Hunt - Or be Hunted!!

Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: Hunt - Or be Hunted!!

"Priyanka, Anusha, Chaitra and 236 others are waiting for you...."the notification read. I was thrilled. If just uploading an incomplete profile would put me in touch with so many potential suitors, I would find the "Right One" in a couple of weeks. I quickly opened an other tab on the browser that said "Popular honeymoon destinations in Asia"

                                        

                                                            **********************

 When you don't fall in love at the right time - or rather-get someone to fall in love with you at the right time, the inevitability of arranged marriage looms large. Add to that a conspiracy from the stars (read horoscopes), a script dictated by religion and caste, and (over) enthusiastic participation from a wide circle of relatives - the stage is set for drama like never before. Only, it is happening in your own life.

I still remember the day my Father brought a hundred page note book and religiously wrote Lord Ganesha's name on the first page. "Ensure that you find a girl before this book runs out..." was his first instruction. It was then that I realized that this notebook would be his database of all profiles that were referred to us. I almost ventured to suggest that he start an Excel, but held myself back, as I'd be the one eventually maintaining it if it were to transpire to reality.

Our next task was to bring out the model in me. This involved transformations of humongous proportions: from the hygienic to the well-groomed, from the posture-less to the photogenic and from the presentable to the polished. "Please try to put on some weight" seemed to be the universal suggestion right from the distant aunt whom I got to know existed when we started bride-hunting, to the gym instructor, who suddenly seemed to take more interest in my marriage because the membership renewal was due.
"I'll make you ready for the big day Saar" he used to say with a wink every time, in broken English. And as though spurred on, I would do a couple more routines that day, than the usual.

                                                         *************************
"Let's head to the Bureau" declared Father one Saturday afternoon. We were nearing the end of an intense referral phase - with my matrimonial Resume being floated discerningly in the close circle for potential matches. This had not resulted in much tangible progress - apart from tempering our expectations and anxiety levels. My Father for one, understood that a blue tick on WhatsApp doesn't mean that his son's marriage is a foregone conclusion. I realised that wearing dark shades instead of power spectacles in a photograph, doesn't exactly improve my appeal. And most importantly, Mother started appreciating that a girl looking super beautiful in a photograph may look totally different in reality.

Once planetary alignments, Facebook profiles and MBA colleges ensured that we exhausted all possible leads in the close circle, Father decided that we had to cast the net wider. Or rather, I had to be displayed more publicly as an eligible bachelor. It was then that we zeroed in on the Bureau.

Apparently, lot of prospective grooms and brides had found the "One" in the Bureau. It had an excellent database of suitors (I was wondering if it was better than that of Father's) and provided opportunities for parents to network. It was a niche in itself because, it was still only offline with a fledgling presence online - and yet managed to attract people from all over the state.

It was a Sunday when we first visited the Bureau. Through sustained effort, I'd managed to gain a kilo plus three hundred grams - which was visible as a paunch, thanks to corporate life.(The gym instructor was insisting that I'd gained weight - where, was a different matter altogether). My Mother fussed that I wear formals;wearing a Tee would mean exposing my slender arms and bony neck. What if the girls' parents thought I was undernourished? Father complained that lack of a stubble meant I looked 24 and not 29. (This was definitely not under my control). "Behave yourself, cut your sarcasm" was the instruction I received from them as we got down from the auto. The Auto Driver's "All The Best" seemed more a smirk than a wish, as we entered the doors of the Bureau. I asked Mother if I should prostrate for a couple of minutes before entering - for good luck- but she dismissed my earnest question as sarcasm.

Ever since we started discussing the Bureau, I'd developed visions of it in my head. I'd imagined myself entering the Bureau with two jasmine garlands - one around my neck and the other one in my hand, for the girl I felt was my best match. Girls would line up on either side, waiting for me to make my choice. And the one I chose to garland would walk away with me, while her parents' eyes brimmed with tears of joy. In an alternate version, girls were waiting for me with jasmine garlands in their hands. The next moment there were multiple garlands around my neck, and I'd to figure who I needed to accept. It was my parents' eyes that were glistening with tears of happiness now.

The reality turned out to be totally different. The Bureau was one square hall, lined with benches and some chairs for courtesy. Tubelights lined the walls and a couple of fans cooled a rather tense and serious atmosphere. Anxious parents pored over files that contained data of prospective brides and grooms. Each of them, had made their own database ( I could now appreciate Father), which was in a different stage of maturity. 

Clearly, there was a distinction even among the parents' journeys of finding brides and grooms for their sons and daughters. There were parents who had just managed to convince their sons to start thinking about marriage and had rushed to the Bureau with horoscopes and photographs with a plan to find the right match the same day. There were parents for whom the novelty of the process had worn off and who were "going through the inevitable motions" before the perfect match came along. And then there were the frustrated ones - who had passed through the first two stages - who now just hoped that the process would end. There were the quiet ones. And some of them who were boisterous. Some one of them even acknowledged that they should have allowed their children to find the right match themselves.  I was amused at this late realization and silently wondered if the same thought was crossing my parents' minds too. Well, I guess it was too early in the day for that!

My parents were presently in the over enthusiastic segment. Father opened his precious database and wrote the date with the brand new Parker he had bought for the purpose. Mother switched over to her officious mode as she wore her reading glasses. I was soon doing the dual role of a bridegroom and a clerk. My job was to run to the store room, grab a file full of brides-to-be, hand it over to my parents. Father matched the fundamentals of the horoscopes, Mother scrutinized the profile and passed it to me for  final vetting. Nevertheless, it was cursory. If the profile passed Father's checks and Mother's eyes - we would proceed "to discuss at Home."
 
                                               
                                                              *************************

I came back home from Office the next evening to a call centre. Father's database was spread wide open on the table. He was on one side of the living room, his customary coffee in one hand and his mobile in the other. "Hello...is this Mr..? We came across your daughter's profile at the Bureau. My son's name is Alok....." he went on. And at the end of the conversation, he would write a response across the profile in his database. There were different updates - ranging from "Accepted - to send profile" "Horoscopes don't match" to "Discuss with Alok". There were a couple of cryptic encircled and crossed out profiles as well.

Mother was on her phone as well, working on the other half of the list - typically where the point of contact was the lady of the house. She would start with an ice-breaker before pitching me more formally. She would even go on to describe what my hobbies were and what I did on weekends. I was almost sure her pitch was much better than mine to any prospective match. At the end of her conversation, she reached out to Father's database. But her evaluation and update were more analytical and critical than Father's. "Tone was cordial. Seemed interested". "Down to Earth. Need to progress this further". "Great background. Alok would be interested"

Both my parents were cold calling prospects!! And their cold calling had sincerity and earnestness that I never managed to imbibe in my share of cold calling as a sales guy.The final straw was my Brother. He was busy WhatsApping my profile to parents of prospects that Father and Mother had already spoken to.

Arranged Matrimony was staring at me in the face. To find someone - I always believed - had to be my objective. The reality was turning out to be different. My family had made it their purpose to find me someone. I was used to calling it social pressure - a blind obsession. But what I was now seeing was genuine concern to help me take the next big step in life. I saw the same energy, enthusiasm and determination that I had seen in them during multiple milestone moments in my life earlier.

I looked at them with pride and emotion. The lens of irony and sarcasm through which I had viewed the proceedings till now was fast melting in the fervor to do something to help my family see this moment through successfully - without much effort. Should I grab the sacred database and start dialing a few numbers myself? Or should I call the Matrimony website to extend my Premium subscription? Or should I vow that I would visit Lord Ganesha the moment an alliance was struck?

My train of thoughts was broken by loud shouts and noise from a couple of Hi-Fives. "It's more than a blue tick, Brother" Akshay was telling me. "They want to meet us next Sunday!"

Was I Hunting.......Or being Hunted?

                                                                                                    - 3rd December 2018

Disclaimer: Events dramatised for fictional purposes

Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: The "AM Date"

Adventures in Arranged Matrimony: The "AM Date"

Hi….I slept over this…and I don’t think we can make this work in the long run. All the best to you!” I pondered for a good ten seconds if I had to insert a smiley. Decided against it and hit the send button. She was online. And within a few seconds, the dreaded blue tick appeared. “Sure. All the best to you too!” she replied. I enlarged her DP for one last time, before deleting the number forever.

                                           …………………………………………………..

“So….how is that you’re looking for AM?” She asked, as we settled down across a table in a café.

“AM?” I asked, not quite aware.

“I’m tired of calling it “Arranged Marriage”. So for me, it’s AM now!” she said casually. Wow! I understood I was in for a grinding “AM date”.

Not that I’d had many. And quite honestly, I wouldn’t prefer many. Like every guy trying to getting hitched through arranged marriage (yeah…quite a paradoxical phrase), I wished the war ended before I became a veteran. Some said it was basically “selling” yourself to the girl and her family - not that I was great at sales either.

“It’s an arrangement” she broke my chain of thoughts. “You look at if you and the girl are compatible on paper...and then proceed to meet a couple of times…..and may be take a while to decide…” Her hair was shorter than what I had seen - or imagined that I’d seen- on her matrimonial profile. I somehow preferred girls with longish hair.

“You could say “you and I” right….let’s make it more personal?” I said, trying subtly to flirt a little. I clearly wasn’t sitting there to “analyse” compatibility. You either felt a spark or didn’t. We stared at each other mutely for a couple of seconds. And then the inevitable happened. The waiter arrived. It’s amazing how Providence decides the course of action sometimes - or all the time.

The bigger problem I had to grapple now was what I could order. Being a filter coffee person, I was sitting here in a Café, choosing between Cappuccino and Latte. Not that I’d never been to a café. But I’d always had wiser friends to guide me. And I had to make sure I was sufficiently knowledgeable and a tad sophisticated this time around! I had a cursory glance at the Menu and ordered what I thought was vaguely familiar. She knew her choice pretty well. And thankfully, we agreed on fries - regular.

Once the waiter was out of earshot, we resumed our conversation again. The most interesting part of these conversations is that they are never direct. You are expected to talk about hundreds of random things and then magically - somewhere there is intuition that this might work. “I forgot my dabba today” she said, with a smile. Finally something personal. I felt better. “That has happened to me too…”.  “So don’t mind if eat a better share of those fries” she continued.  The conversation meandered along for a while. The agenda was pushed to the background and small talk took front stage. The waiter returned with our coffee and fries and arranged them on the table.  Both of us were momentarily distracted. It was evident that we were finding the coffee and fries more interesting.

“I know we are discussing arranged marriage. But I’d prefer to fall for the girl even in this case. I guess it is much better that way.” I said - voicing my views firmly for the first time that evening.

“Then why didn’t you love someone?” She asked me immediately, in between dipping the fries in the ketchup. It seemed the most obvious question. Yet answers weren’t obvious. “The tricky part is to get someone to love you back.” I wanted to say, but held back, considering it was our first conversation. I remained silent. The silence seemed to egg her on, surprisingly. “Ahaa….so you did love someone. Who was she? Where did you meet her?”  She asked, with almost a mischievous smile. The conversation was really heading along an unplanned trajectory.

I let out a false laugh and brushed it off. It was time for a break again. “So how is it you never take the Metro?.....” I asked her, attempting a distraction that thankfully worked.  I could sense myself perspiring a little. It was like being part of a sales call where the customer asks exactly those questions you don’t have an answer to!

We were sitting there for more than half hour now. I was still figuring how to frame my innumerable questions and expectations in a way that didn’t sound desperate and immature. On the contrary, she seemed quite well versed about how to steer these conversations. We continue to live in times where caste and horoscope still figure as the primary qualification criteria in arranged marriages, before the parents get into discussing the more practical aspects. With umpteen filters already in place, it is hard enough, getting a prospect to reach the meeting stage. Once this stage is reached, there is immense pressure to actually make things work and close the deal - with almost everybody in the social circle looking to get you married every alternate day. Yet here I was, jittery and confused, as she sat focused on her Cappuccino and the fries that seemed to be running out. I played my next card.

“Why did you choose to meet me in the first place?” I asked. This is my standard question to find out what a girl likes about me. It gives me a chance to know something positive about me and boosts my ego, obviously. Everyone likes to hear good things about themselves. “Well…you approached our family. And when I saw your profile…I thought I could just meet and figure things out! Had no expectations really.”  

This was entirely new perspective to me. When the conversation started, I was in the frame of mind that this would be one of the most important conversations of my life. I was excited at the prospect of meeting her. I was looking forward to this conversation for about a week. Yet, here she was - approaching the same meeting with overwhelming practicality.

About an hour into the date, we realized the conversation was running out of steam. We had emptied the fries long time ago, so there was nothing to distract us either. I’m sure we had our initial hunches if things would work out. The waiter must have noticed our silence too. He wandered close to our table one time too many to make sure we asked for the bill.

My confusions started again. Do I be chivalrous and offer to pay the entire bill? Or did women prefer to split the bill these days? These little things were tougher than the conversation itself. When she offered to split, I readily agreed.

We decided to walk together to the Metro Station.  During the walk, I decided to give it a shot. I told her the reason I had wanted to meet her was because of the way she had phrased her bio on the matrimony site. That I had really liked the way she said that she preferred someone who treats everyone equally irrespective of their background. “I really resonate with your opinion” I blurted.

She stopped. Looked at me for a couple of seconds with that mischievous smile I got earlier in the Café. “You clearly are a nube to this process, aren’t you?”  We continued walking. And just before we parted ways at the station she said “For all your emphasis on falling for a girl, just know that every marriage heads south after a few years!” the smile and that sense of reality never leaving her face. Clearly, we had different trains to catch!

                                …………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Disclaimer: Events dramatized for fiction!

                                                                                                            - 2nd April 2018