You know how it works in India – boy meets parents, parents fall in love with boy, parents arrange their girl’s marriage with boy and boy and girl live happily ever after. Well, the last part is subjective. Sounds easier and faster than it really is, trust me! With all due respect to the Indian culture, I have to say that the preparation that goes into this alliance is so tedious and frustrating that I suggest you reconsider having your second child.
Let me break it down for my to be brides and grooms out there –
The first step in this entire process is to declare to the world that you have become a burden on your parents and that they want to transfer their sweet, fair, god fearing classical singer of a burden to a good looking, IIT-IIM graduate, preferably who lives miles and miles away from his family. Extra points for a dead mother in law.
Once you’re on the market, at your end –
– You get yourself a gym membership to get the naked body of your favorite porn star.
– You take doctor appointments to fix all your visible imperfections.
– You learn how to cook.
– You start waxing.
All of this sounds pretty doable, right? but putting yourself up on matrimonial websites and magazines for people to judge, is the highlight of this endeavor.
Finding your life partner has become almost similar to finding the best pair of shoes. With the help of the internet, people are given access to look at you, comment about you and reject you without your slightest knowledge. You wanna know what they’re saying?
1. Who would marry this face?
2. Yeah like 7 lakes per annum is going to get me the house of my dreams in south Bombay or a luxury car to take me to shopping malls where I can blow my husband’s dough! NEXT!!!!
3. Mr. baldy and me sitting under a tree, KISS…..*barf*
4. How about the girl standing next to her (in the picture). I think I can hit that.
5. No mother, no father, lives in California – can I please marry him father? Pretty please.
By virtue of compromise or desperation (call it whatever you want), you finally convince yourself to settle for someone who does not match the exaggerated beauty that you think you possess. Now comes the part where you have absolutely no control over your own marriage choices – horoscope matching. You are at the mercy of someone who looks at stars and zodiac signs for a living to determine if the partner chosen is the right one for you or not. There are some astrologists who say no to every horoscope they see while there are others who say yes to almost every. What cracks me up the most is when the same horoscope is shown to two different astrologists and they have contradictory verdicts on it. For people who blindly believe in this custom, even a no from one is a deal breaker.
The irony is that initially, we placed more significance on family background and qualification but now we throw all that good stuff away just because the girl was born at 1:39 A.M when the Saturn was positioned in the wrong place and does not have guru’s vision to neutralize the effect (WHAT!?). To put it in layman’s terms, you fucked up the biggest decision of your life at the time of birth itself. Now you may kill yourself.
A special mention for those guys who have the most dangerous star attached to the timing of their birth that leads to instant death of the father in law on marriage. So as you can see the ordeal of finding a girl is difficult enough, let alone finding a fatherless girl who is also pretty and not stupid. My sympathies.
After the astrologist gives the nod, you send a message to the parents stating that you are interested in the profile of their son or daughter and wish to take things ahead. They reply with a yes, which is again subject to what their astrologist tells them, which in most cases is a hell no. But if by God’s grace it is a yes, then the proceedings are continued in person.
I guess once the astrologists give their blessings along with making enough money to renovate their kitchen, the process should move smoothly unless the boy or girl look drastically different from their profile pictures in which case the dumper parents need to have the “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation with the dumpee parents *awkward*
I’ll get to that in part 2 soon enough.
But just to put it out there – There has gotta be somebody who had to come up with the aforementioned blue print and I for one am very interested to meet that lonely, sadistic son of a bitch and tell him that some of us can’t go through life just by touching ourselves.
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