Ok, ok, I've had it with people offering me fake money and others chasing me down the department corridor begging for a new post.
So, while I was being "stalked" at the club by Utey's boyfriend [entirely her claim, mind, entirely hers. Me, if I could notice an eligible bachelor when I saw one .. well, I don't know what I would've done, really], who should chance to drop by, but my alleged future husband. This particular personage's hand had been offered to me in marriage a few months ago, but having drowned myself already in the love of an individual at last count being hunted down by hot mexican women and hunting down hotter spanish waitresses, I had politely declined. At this point, it would be pertinent, I suppose, to bring to your notice, that my sentences are interminably long.
Moving on, said personage is a former national-level tennis player, very shy, very sweet and very hirsute. I don't yet know whether he was aware that higher powers had contemplated tying my pallu to his dhoti [isn't that how you get married?] at a blessed time in the future. He is known to my mashi, my mother's aunt, an intrepid matchmaker if there ever was one. So there he was, hovering about the shamiana, sweating profusely. And then [this is going to be in bangla. Dee, go away, I'm not translating :-p ] :-
Alleged Future Husband : Hello, Aunty, how are you?
Mashi: O ma! _________ jey! Hello hello!! [she uses his full name, even though she obviously knows him well, just so I can understand this is the famous AFH]
*wink 1 to me*
AFH and Mashi engage in some small talk. AFH also addresses my brat of a young cousin, showing what looked like very genuine interest in her sporting progress. He even offers to teach her to improve her backhand.
My mother gazes, amazed.
My mother (notice how she dominates most of my posts): Aei, are you married?
AFH is decidedly befuddled. Smiles shyly.
Mashi: Koi, na to! His mother has been searching for a suitable bride for so long! *wink 2 to mother. wink 3 to me*
My mother (eyes lit up, ready with bait): MEET MY DAUGHTER, NAME ROHINI, AGE 23!!
Mashi: *wink 4 to anyone who will care to look*
AFH (in a state of shock): Oh, achha! I mean ...
Me (meaning to be angry, but breaking into chuckles at AFH's facial expression. He really is cute): Hullo. Don't mind my mother, she's doing her Pujo shopping.
Mashi: *wink 5 to me*
AFH (whimpering, like he's in an alternate reality soaked in evil): Oh. Achha.
Mother (a trifle impatient): You have a girlfriend, at least?
AFH (these are words he has finally understood): Eh heh heh .. ki jey bolen, aunty!
Mashi: Aare, girlfriends?! I have seen women falling over him at the tennis club! But our _______, does he care?! No no! Very good boy, our _____. [the exercise of proprietory rights over eligible AFH has begun].
AFH (blushing) : I think I have to leave now.
Mother: Where do you have to go? No no, no going, you sit and chat with us!
AFH: No, aunty, I'm very sorry, but I'm here to organise a golfing event my company is sponsoring. I'll come another time, ok?
Mother: Oho! You're working! *dazzling smile* Good pay?
Mashi: Everyday he buys a new car!
[Have I mentioned she's been winking incontrollably all this while?]
AFH (realising he's fighting a losing battle, smiles in defeat): Aunty, please! Ebar thhamun apni!
Anyway, this is just the gist. In the meantime, my mother has obtained from him the name of his company, his designation, the number of clubs he is a member of, the number of matches he has played, and undoubtedly, when I wasn't looking, the number of his bank account.
Uhm, incidentally, the way I've falsely dramatised the conversation, it would appear he was desperate to leave. Truth be told, he wasn't, he seemed pleased in fact, when I told him how my friends had been a huge fan (used the word "heartthrob" for the first time in my life. It was fun to see him wince) of his when we were pimply teenagers in school. I've never seen a person, male or female, blush so deeply and so frequently in such a short span of time. Then again, he was being extremely polite, beaming benevolently at one and all, and not showing any sort of interest in me. Aah well.
The important thing is, and now I have to leave to do my bratty cousin's homework for her, the important thing is, the moment he left, my mother demanded of my aunt why this masterpiece of God had not been made available to me. When she pleaded innocent and said he had been rudely dismissed as a marital prospective, my mother raised such a hue and cry that, June Maliah, who was sitting at the next table with a bunch of kids, turned around and looked at her questioningly. Decisions were made to get in touch with the boy's parents that very evening, based solely on the fact that they were very rich. And no, this was getting to be serious, because my tech-illiterate aunt was actually fiddling with her cellphone to retrieve AFH's home number.
It was no good explaining that I was not interested in marriage (uhm, don't let this discourage you. You may continue your search for a suitable boy for me, or even present your own glorious self), there was absolutely no way she was listening to the fact that I was still in love with ... uhm ... who I was in love with.
So ... and I'm really late now - I need to present, in december, an IIT graduated green card holder, obviously doing something in the software sector, earning hundreds of thousands of dollars, and tall. Because, I have declared undying, and ardently reciprocated, love for said fictitious individual - a man of sparkling wit, and doubtless reliability. Believe it or not, my mother and my mashi are so pleased with my valuable, if inordinately lucky, find, that I have actually been offered money to get a boob job done, before aforementioned non-existent individual makes his false presence felt in Kolkata. In December. I have time till then to be free of further harassments and threats on the pre-marital front.
Hmm. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they will forget all about this with time.
[Anyway, since we're at it. Any takers?]