To begin with, I live in a joint family which means, like while recording a song, there is just one main voice, while the rest form the chorus. Except of course our collective ‘singing’ efforts sound suspiciously like those on the All India Radio, especially when vernacular artists are caught hold of and made to sing in Hindi!!

I have one pesky cousin brother living under the same concrete slab as me, and whose half brain status makes me an active supporter of euthanasia! Yet his male scalp is undoubtedly under more strain considering he is at all times surrounded by three high strung females – my sisters and me!

My parents and my grandparents of course are on their own personal missions of finding a semblance of sense, which floated up into the cosmos, the day I was born!

Anyway it’s been more than two decades , since the fateful occurance which technically means I’m of marriageable age right now. Being one of three sisters in a joint family , it was understood that I would be pole vaulting into a ‘mandap’ shortly and to hasten the process my idiotic brother brought home his moronic friend!

Now this ‘friend’ whose parents in his birth certificate registered his name as ‘Sameer’ decided to come blowing into my house one fine evening. Sameer had obviously heard a lot about the women’s liberation and considering he was about to step into a female dominated household , he came prepared with a bevy of relatives- to protect him. Here’s where the story actually begins!

I ought to say, I began the evening meekly serving tea and biscuits , except that I had no intentions of resembling an air hostess in a jumbo air craft. Instead I left the task to my suddenly obliging sisters who seemed so eager to remain in the kitchen , that I worried about their health! Anyway Sameer and me settled down in a ‘discreet’ corner of the drawing room with thirty set of ear drums pretending not to hear our conversation.

‘Talk, Talk, we are vary open minded” declared an old Uncle with such a twang that the word ‘talk’ rhymed with ‘mark’. Indeed. With a five year old nephew parked on Sameer ‘s lap and enough makeup on my face to embarrass a Kathakali dancer, the two of us tried to carry forth a conversation that made it obvious that atleast in my case , the connection between my vocal chords and my brain had long since been severed! Yet since Sameer was basically a nice guy and since his toddler nephew fell in love with my brother, we decided to meet again.

So cut to Act I , Scene 2! The setting is a coffee shop and in walks me with a short top and jeans that makes it clear that Lees or Levis ought not to open another franchise in India. Okay, so I’m not beautiful. Yet the paradox was, I was all set to have an arranged marriage! Tall, fair and pretty, say the matrimonial ads! Wow! I manage a rejection on all three counts! It was a good thing that Sameer was myopic and even as I sat thinking a figure in a bright green shirt waved at me from the entrance. I suddenly wanted to turn hypermetropic. It was Sameer!

He came towards me grinning to reveal a set of teeth that were ten years too late in meeting an orthodentist. Anyway even I decided to blind him with the yellow glare of my smile. God! This had to be a sign from above! And probably someday a tooth paste company will be given the (dis) credit of bringing two souls together! Probably we should have met over candle light . Except that with my colour , or the lack of it, he would need a torch light to locate me! Okay so that’s enough of a back ground study. Sameer came over and climbed onto the high bar stool, and after deliberating long enough to make the waiter grow a beard, we finally placed our order.

Maybe because we were both water signs and hence had brains in the same liquid state, we somehow hit it off well. By the end of the evening the only thing we hadn’t discussed was the fundamental charter of the Kyoto Protocol! I learnt that Sameer liked paani puri, music and the rain and was by nature so elusive that it would make Osama bin Laden turn pink My daily yoga practice meanwhile helped me to comfortably put my foot in my mouth , atleast on two occasions especially when off hand I launched into a history lesson on the importance of a deo spray. Sameer, the poor guy, took his hands off the table and rigidly stuck themto his sides like he was part of a newly dispatched platoon of the Indian army.The foot in mouth disease in my case seems hereditary, yet a case history like mine can make even George Bush chuckle in empathy.

The duration of our date was that of an average hindi movie, except that we violated one cardinal rule. Neither of us broke into a song. Coming from the birth place of Bollywood and not having a choreographed dance sequence during our date , is one of the most unpatriotic things ever! And we call ourselves Indian citizens?!! Now really!!

Yet I was so happy that evening I could have broke into an an item number of my own and would have merrily sung the first stanza of some song, complete with back ground music!

When I got home that day, I had a whole reception committee awaiting me and once again my flashing yellow teeth came to my rescue. My father beamed like a tired but triumphant politician after an election rally while my grand parents continued smiling, till I was scared their dentures might hurt. My brother promptly declared that we now ought to find him his ‘one in a million’ and I suggested the rare Indian rhino from the Kaaziranga wild life sanctuary. On his part my brother is sure I ought to be deported on grounds of causing mental trauma to his IIT engineered skull and the single handed brain drain I’ll perform on his unsuspecting classmate for a whole life time!

Right now ofcourse my brother is content in standing at a crowded railway station with a placard in hand, like a displaced statue of liberty. Relatives to be escorted, hall to be arranged and my giggling cousins being requested to shut up! A lot of work needs to be done! In the final analysis mine is neither a love nor an arranged marriage. ‘Deranged’ is more the word. And considering this is my wedding, it all fits in!

I can almost picture the synchronized nodding of the battalion, I call, my family!!
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