Friday, February 19, 2016

The Mandi called Marriage

Before you married couples -new or not - shoot daggers at me over the title, hear me out. I have nothing against this institution and am a firm believer that one shouldn’t enter it if one is not sure or ‘sorted’ about the path one has to take in life. Having said that I shall also reiterate that the entire gamut of ‘Arranged Marriage’ has turned into a Mandi (no reference to the Shyam Benegal classic though sometimes I can’t but see a similarity) turning some into traders of the best goods.

At 32, I find myself surrounded by three kinds of people. The first type that consistently reminds me that my biological clock is ticking and that I shouldn’t delay the matter any further.  The bunch almost sounds like teleshopping network which first tries to attract you towards the product and then scares you by saying that the ‘stocks are limited’

The second type consists of people who talk sense, for instance a Hindi professor who taught me at school said “Careful when you are choosing a partner for you have to spend an entire life with him” when I bumped into him on my way back from work. This type is armed with good market knowledge; hence advice can be banked upon.

The third type is of course the gang who has not an iota of concern about my future yet is curious about every move of mine so that I can deliver fodder for thoughts and gossip sessions.

Though the ‘deliverables’ from my end according to type 1 are at stake, I must remind this particular gang that the clock ticking away is mine, and the predisposition of winding it or not lies with me and nobody else. So back off if you like your molars.

I like the second type. Nobody is nosy in that gang and they know where to draw a line. As far as the third type is concerned, have you ever seen an independent parasite? Distance yourself and they shall go away from you if not from the world. But do keep your eyes and ears open for the ‘goods’ when they come in as not every trader in the ‘souk’ sells you legit ones.

I may sound harsh with this deliberate comparison but I have every reason to do so. Having come across a few prospective grooms myself, I find my enthusiasm shrink after every encounter. Call it my misfortune (I’d like to call it otherwise) but the few men I have spoken to have exhibited (pseudo) liberal values and then turned cold turkey.  One of them gingerly added me on Facebook to fake keenness but his passion disappeared when he figured out that I wasn’t a grey market customer. In short he was putting up an act to please his masters, much against his own will.  

Male bashing isn’t what I have resorted to here in this post and I must insist that perhaps people on the other side of the fence may have similar diatribes against my ilk but I don’t intend to speak for them. This is my story and for once I refuse to shadow write.

I haven’t given up either. I am an Indian woman and I know how to shop. I look for the perfect fit, durability, warranty and unabashedly ask if the material shrinks when washed or if the service center of the brand will help me troubleshoot errors through a phone call. I believe in strong investments.

What I am yet to learn are bargaining skills.