1 A Serial Dater #2
This, inside the room I had decorated as a teenager, was where I felt our friendship thrived the most. We had practically grown up here, spending countless hours through school and college discussing fashion, pop stars and boys.
It was under the posters of SRK and Coldplay that we had watched porn for the first time, lying on this very bed.
My mirror had seen us attempt (and fail at) many make-up trends over the years.
In tenth grade, we had hidden an abandoned kitten in my double-door wardrobe and sat in silent protest on my wooden floor when my mom told us we couldn’t keep it.
In this room, we had choreographed dance routines for our future weddings even when we were painfully single, and bitched about how our boyfriends sucked when we weren’t.
This, right here, was perfect. I wasn’t a fan of being placed in other settings. Especially if they had anything to do with pretentious parties.
‘So what is it that’s keeping you so busy tonight?’ V asked.
Her tone was casual, a calculated attempt to broach the subject again.
‘I …’ I said, racking my brain for an excuse that she would consider legitimate, ‘um, I have a date.’
‘Didn’t you just go on a date this afternoon?’ she asked, giving me the side-eye before her need to be filled in took over. ‘How was that, by the way?’
‘Ah, blah. I’m going to end up alone,’ I said, forcing some dejection into my voice.
‘Hey, come on,’ she said, bumping her elbow with mine, ‘you’re never going to be alone. You have me.’
I smiled, turning on my side to look at her.
Vrinda was beautiful. And I don’t mean the regular kind of beautiful.
Not only did she have the most chiselled, editorial face, but she was also athletic, tall and graceful, which, if I’m being honest, sometimes made me envious.
I was her cute, clumsy, short best friend.
Okay, not that short. FYI, I was above the average Indian woman’s height.
But next to her, I felt like a minion from Despicable Me .
‘So you’re breaking the one-date-a-week rule, huh?’ she asked, referring to my imaginary date later tonight.
‘I guess I am,’ I said and sighed, before adding, ‘I need some action to get me through the disaster that is my life.’
She smacked my face with Mr Corny, my stuffed pink unicorn.
‘You’re so dramatic.’
‘You live for the drama,’ I retorted, snatching my childhood friend from her.
‘Hey! I’ve got the perfect idea,’ she said, her eyes twinkling.
‘No, I’m not bringing him to the party,’ I said, rolling my eyes at her.
‘But why not? Come on, Annie. Don’t be such a buzzkill.’
I honestly didn’t like doing this. It wasn’t fun to see her disappointed, and it was definitely not enjoyable to lie to her. But some things just had to be done.
‘He’s just not a party kinda guy. He’s made a reservation at that new rooftop restaurant in Connaught Place.’
‘Who doesn’t like parties? He sounds awful. What’s his name anyway?’ she said, then added, ‘But ooooh, rooftop … how romantic.’
Talking to Vrinda was often like dealing with two personalities all at once. Some people found it annoying, but I didn’t mind. It felt like I had two friends at the cost of one. I know that makes me sound kind of pathetic, but hey, I’m just being resourceful.
‘His name is, um … Aakash,’ I said, coming up with the most generic name I could think of.
I was beginning to fear that she would ask to see his Tinder profile. But before she could interrogate me further, the door to my room swung open. My mom walked in, holding a tray with a bowl of fruits, a packet of chips and two glasses of lemonade.
‘Mom, I wanted a cola,’ I said, pointing to the lemonade.
She pulled my side table to the front of the bed and set the tray down on it.
‘Do you know how much sugar that thing has? You’ll get a tummy like your mummy,’ she said, slightly pleased with her rhyme.
Vrinda laughed, giving her all the encouragement she needed to go on.
‘Vrinda beta, teach her no. You’re always eating healthy and going to the gym and all. And this aloo can’t even get her own snacks from the kitchen,’ she clapped my arm on the word aloo.
Vrinda laughed some more before finally noticing the murderous look I was throwing her. ‘Aloo? She’s thinner than me, Aunty,’ she finally said.
‘Too thin, if you ask me,’ my mother mumbled, adjusting her dupatta.
‘Mom! What’s your problem?’ I asked, opening the packet of chips with a loud pop.
‘You are my problem,’ she said, then leaned forward to tuck a stray hair behind my ear.
‘I just don’t want people to judge my little aloo.’
‘Can you please stop calling me that?’ I demanded, smoothening my loose Steve Carell T-shirt over my stomach, as if to reassure myself that I hadn’t magically gained weight under the scrutiny of my mother’s gaze.
‘Who’s judging her?’ Vrinda asked.
‘You didn’t tell her?’ Mom asked, looking at me like I was supposed to know what she was talking about.
‘Um … no? What’s there to tell?’
‘Don’t tell me you forgot,’ she said, as her hand immediately flew to cup her head. ‘The Chauhans are coming to see you tomorrow!’
I shot up from the bed like someone had lit a fire under my butt.
‘Wait, that’s tomorrow ?’ I said at the same time as V’s voice went extremely shrill.
‘Someone’s coming to see you?’
I held up a hand to her, trying to telepathically communicate.
I’ll explain later. Don’t feed this fire right now.
Her eyes practically screamed at me.
Coming to see you? Like for marriage?
‘Mom, you know how I feel about this whole thing,’ I said. ‘I’m going to turn him down.’
She sighed, shaking her head as she said, ‘First meet him na. He’s a nice boy from such a nice family.’
‘You haven’t even met him!’ I said, throwing my hands up in the air.
‘Okay, okay. Don’t get mad. You don’t have to do anything, just sit through tomorrow. It’s too late to back out of it,’ she said, giving up.
When I didn’t respond, she bent over to peck my forehead. After a few moments of stubborn silence, she left Vrinda and me alone to discuss the mess.
‘Oh my God,’ she breathed.
‘I know,’ I whined.
‘But you hate arranged marriages.’
‘I know.’
‘But you don’t have to do it, right? You just have to meet this guy,’ she pondered.
I didn’t know why I had agreed to do this.
As our school psychology teacher would put it, I had let my parents get a foot in the door.
Now that I had complied once and given them an in, it would be easier to get me to agree to their bigger requests in the future.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself marrying a lalaji’s son in no time.
A week ago, when Mom and Dad had brought up the topic of shaadi at the dinner table, I’d thought nothing of it.
They were discussing potential matches for my cousin Riya, who was twenty-nine and ‘looking’.
And suddenly, they started talking up this one boy who worked in marketing, had a seven-figure salary and apparently looked like a movie star.
I oooh-ed and aaah-ed at regular intervals, pretending to be interested in my cousin’s fiancé-to-be.
Until it dawned on me that they weren’t talking about a match for Riya.
‘They’re so sneaky, man. They made my biodata without asking me. And you know the worst part?’
‘What?’ Vrinda asked, her face aghast.
‘They used that horrible photo of me from Garima’s Diwali party,’ I groaned.
She snickered before her face went deadpan again.
‘You know, they just worry about you because you haven’t had a real relationship in years. Ever since Mr You-Know-Who,’ she said, pulling me close.
We didn’t talk about my ex. That was another rule. It was a story as old as time. Hot musician meets gullible girl, leads her on and then breaks her heart, forever tainting the way she lived and loved.
I nestled my head in the crest of her shoulder and said, ‘I know.’
‘You just need to put yourself out there a bit more,’ she said, rubbing my arm gently. ‘You know, meet new people – and I don’t mean off the apps. Talk to real people,’ she said.
‘Where am I going to find these “real” people?’ I asked, pursing my lips.
‘I don’t know. Anywhere. At the supermarket, or the park or uh … parties,’ she whispered the last part into my ear.
I tore away from her.
‘God, you’re relentless.’
‘Come on, just come. I’ll be your wingwoman,’ she said.
I sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go. When V wanted something, she made sure she got it. Especially with me.
‘Fine. But I’m not letting you set me up with any of Saurav’s annoying friends. I’ll bring my date.’
She squealed and hugged me again, satisfied with her victory. Meanwhile, my brain was busy making a list of things I needed to arrange in the next three hours.
1. A bomb-ass outfit.
2. A guy called Aakash.