Arranged Love

by Mittal, Parul A

  ‘The other important aspect is social media marketing,’ Rohan emphasized.

  ‘Facebook is so new. No one knows what works in that domain,’ cribbed a sixties’-born, senior marketing guy.

  ‘Well, I understand that she is a new lady in town and I myself don’t date her often,’ admitted Rohan, smiling handsomely. Everyone in the room laughed at his joke. ‘But we ought to learn how to woo her,’ Rohan added, looking expectantly at the younger team members.

  My face lit up at the opportunity. I was certainly the most active FB user among those present. I should be able to say something smart. I had barely begun to formulate my strategy to woo 100,000+ fans on iTrot FB page, when Deep proposed an FB community around work pressures and mean bosses that could be used to offer our travel packages. Everyone, including Rohan, acclaimed his Boss Bashing campaign.

  The meeting went on but I was unable to contribute anything useful. I was beginning to feel lost and out-of-place like a 4XL-sized woman looking for clothes in a petite-size store.

  ‘I would like you guys to watch out for any issues within the organization that could hamper its growth,’ said Rohan in his closing statement.

  ‘Sure, thanks, bye,’ people said and filed out of the room one by one.

  Nobody had said anything about me being a mute spectator in the two-hour meeting, but somehow I felt compelled to prove to others that I could speak. This ‘am I good enough’ was a rare phenomenon for me as I am a very positive person. I was grappling with my insignificance, when I saw a chat message pop up on Deep’s laptop. ‘Are you done? Need urgent KS help.’

  ‘Voila!’ I thought. Surely this was an organizational issue. I told Rohan about the various people I had seen approach Deep with knowledge sharing concerns.

  ‘Knowledge sharing problems in a start-up? That’s strange!’ Rohan expressed surprise.

  I looked at Deep for support, but he seemed irritated with me. ‘It’s not a big deal,’ said Deep, giving me a mildly disgruntled look. ‘I think Suhaani has misunderstood.’

  Over the last few weeks, I had come to admire Deep’s sensitivity to his juniors, even the non-IIT ones and respect for others’ ideas. Why was he behaving like this today?

  Insistent on making a point, I reiterated that it was a real concern and people even had these issues with HR.

  Rohan was visibly miffed now. ‘Is there something you are trying to hide, Deep?’ he asked mildly but sternly.

  Deep had to come clean now. To my utmost embarrassment, he revealed that the cases I was talking about were not related to knowledge sharing but to first timers and beginners of Kama Sutra.

  ‘Trying to increase the conversion rate of random dates to reproductive mates,’ paraphrased Deep.

  I could see Rohan trying hard to control his laughter. I didn’t know where to look. Not only was I now a plus-sized misfit in a dainty store, I had also made a fool of myself by mistaking maternity clothes for large-size clothes.

  ‘Thankfully for now I have only one mistress,’ Rohan said, looking lovingly at his BlackBerry. ‘My heart begins to beat fast when it vibrates and my eyes light up when it signals invitingly, but I will surely seek your advice, when I need it,’ winked Rohan and signed out.

  And in case you are wondering how Vikas had sex issues, mouse years after marriage, and that too with Kavita, you will be happy to know that they were unhappily married to each other.

  Back to me. Stuck to my seat with invisible glue, I mumbled an inaudible bye. The last thing I wanted now was to make eye contact with Deep. Looking down at my notebook, I sneaked a sideways glance at him. He was busy on chat, presumably dispensing gyan on client penetration. I got up gingerly and started tiptoeing out. I was almost at the door when this huge 24” x 36” picture frame hung on the wall caught my attention. It showed a guy in a white shirt and black suit, leaping in the air. His head was tilted backwards and his hands were stretched out with a briefcase in one hand. At the bottom was a quotation by Cynthia Heimel that read, ‘When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.’ Perfect! I thought. It didn’t give any advice about what you should do if you take the leap and end up falling on your face. What did I say earlier, about the happening work environment when Deep is around? I take back my words.

  There was another learning that I wanted to share with all my friends though. So I updated my Facebook status to, ‘Never wear platform heels if you expect to get stuck in a situation that requires a stealthy escape.’

  Kuch Kuch Hota Hai

  Even before I opened the latch, I knew who was standing outside. I could hear Deep humming from the other side of the door. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of last night’s KS blunder. Blushing with embarrassment, I unlocked and held the door open.

  ‘Hi. How was your day?’ I asked, trying my best to keep my voice to sound normal as Deep walked in.

  ‘It was quite an experience,’ he responded, widening his eyes in emphasis.

  ‘I have heard that IIM interviews can be quite gruelling,’ I commented, walking back to the drawing room.

  ‘Oh! The interview was the usual mix of behavioural and business aptitude assessment,’ Deep said carelessly as he followed me in. ‘But you won’t believe whom I met while I was waiting for my turn,’ he said fervently.

  ‘Your long-lost twin brother?’ I hazarded a filmy guess; dropping down on Sanjeev’s newly bought plush loveseat.

  Sanjeev had just purchased a house and since he didn’t have many relatives in Delhi, he’d invited all of us for the house warming. I had a feeling it had also to do with him trying to impress Madhuri who was yet to arrive. It was just the three of us for now.

  Sitting across the handcrafted ivory centre-table from me, Deep looked at me with a dazed expression. I knew by the way his eyes sparkled that the interesting part of the story was yet to begin.

  ‘I met the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life!’ Deep gushed, lost in a trance.

  ‘Had she also come for the interview?’ I asked, interested.

  He nodded his head dreamily, still captivated by her beauty.

  ‘So what happened?’ I prodded curiously.

  ‘Nothing,’ he sighed heavily, letting his shoulders droop.

  ‘Nothing? But you just said you had “quite an experience” with this pretty woman,’ I asked, intrigued by the uneventful end.

  ‘Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?’ said Deep, suddenly getting up from his chair.

  ‘That’s an outdated pick-up line!’ I said, taken by surprise at his flirtatious remark.

  ‘That was exactly my reaction when this really hot girl, sitting next to me in the waiting lounge, got up from her seat, sashayed past me once and then came back and sat down next to me, her long lovely tresses falling on her delicate shoulders.’

  ‘Did she know you from before?’

  ‘Hello? Didn’t you hear she said she f ell in love with me at first sight?’

  ‘But that was a real quick fall,’ I said, not bothering to camouflage the bewilderment in my voice.

  ‘No,’ he denied.

  ‘No?’ I asked baffled.

  ‘Not if you compare it with her swiftness as she threw herself on me the moment we were inside my car.’

  For a moment I thought Deep was pulling my leg. I peered into his eyes, but found him looking right through me, perhaps reflecting on what had transpired back in his car.

  ‘What was she doing in your car?’ The words came out automatically.

  ‘She wanted …’

  ‘Forget it. Don’t answer that,’ I said abruptly, before he could finish the sentence.

  ‘… a ride back home,’ he completed despite my interruption.

  ‘It’s enough, Deep. I don’t want to talk any more,’ I said, knowing but not wanting to hear what happened next.

  ‘That’s exactly what
she told me, fluttering her long eyelashes. She told me to shut up and get up after we had chatted for a while.’

  Typically, I had no problems listening to my guy friends talk about their dates. Rather I had always enjoyed these tales. Unable to understand why I was feeling uncomfortable today, I was glad when I heard Sanjeev shout from the kitchen, above the whistling sound of the pressure cooker, ‘I will be with you in a minute, bhabhiji.’

  For some queer reason, known only to him, Sanjeev had continued calling me bhabhiji even after Deep had informed the people in office that he was not looking to get married in the near future. By now, I had also gotten used to Sanjeev’s unique, affectionate greeting style. I got up from the sofa and played the Golden Collection CD I had selected just before Deep had rung the doorbell.

  ‘Would you like to dance with me?’ Deep said, as the latest blockbuster songs echoed in the double-ceilinged living room.

  ‘Now?’ I was flustered.

  He shook his head and said, ‘Not you. I asked Ms Gorgeous if she would like to dance with me when we reached my house,’ said Deep, continuing his story.

  ‘So, you took her to your home? All men are the same,’ I sneered.

  ‘Hello? Were you listening? She was the one coming on to me.’

  ‘Well, you must have encouraged her in some way.’

  ‘I can hardly help it if women find me irresistible,’ Deep said smugly.

  ‘You are quite a flirt, Deep,’ I said teasingly.

  ‘Thanks for the compliment. I always try my best,’ he wisecracked.

  Okay. I admit I was feeling jealous, but not because I had any feelings for Deep. It was because I was feeling aroused by Deep’s literotica narration and beginning to miss my Jay.

  ‘Please stop, Deep,’ I said desperately.

  ‘I wish she had pleaded to me to stop. Sadly, it didn’t get that far,’ said Deep, dejected.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  ‘I told you, nothing happened. I was about to make a move when she took out a sutta and asked me if I had a lighter,’ said Deep with a devastated expression.

  ‘Poor you!’ I said pitifully. ‘The beast kept waiting for the true love, while the beauty danced, smoked and left,’ I kidded.

  He threw a small pillow lightly at me. I caught it and smiled back, a real smile this time, for I knew that Deep was allergic to cigarette smoke.

  ‘Next time try drinking the lucky potion, Felix Felicis,’ I recommended but my Potter joke was lost on Deep.

  ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, bhabhiji,’ said Sanjeev guiltily, coming out of the kitchen.

  It was a very hot day and Sanjeev was sweating like a pig. I noticed a lock of his oily hair stuck across his forehead. His tilak was all smeared and the heavy gold chain around his neck glistened with sweat. He looked more like a Raja Babu type rich, country bumpkin than a sharp-minded IITian. He turned on the air conditioning to the maximum.

  ‘I thought I heard Deep bhai. Where is he?’

  I pointed outside, to the balcony, where Deep was standing, busy on his phone, giving directions for Sanjeev’s house to someone.

  ‘Have some prasad,’ he offered, holding a box of freshly cooked boondi laddoos in one hand and adjusting his La-Z-Boy recliner with another.

  The sweet appetizing smell filled my nostrils as Sanjeev popped one full piece into his mouth.

  I was very tempted. I bent forward slightly and extended my hand to pick one when I noticed Sanjeev’s fingers smeared in yellow oily syrup as he generously helped himself to another piece.

  ‘No, thanks, Sharmaji,’ I refused reluctantly.

  ‘Don’t mind, but we Indian men prefer fat ladies. I mean more the fat, more there is to love, right?’ Sanjeev laughed loudly and a few pieces of laddoo stuck in his mouth flew out and landed on his cream trousers.

  I didn’t want to get into the biological nitty gritty of where men liked fat on women, but I found myself nodding in agreement.

  ‘I feel that this dieting is all wrong. One day you are eating salads to lose calories and the other day you immerse yourself in chocolate pie, gaining back more than you could lose,’ Sanjeev continued his lecture, gorging on the laddoos all by himself.

  Salivating at the thought of the delicious, sugary, yellow balls dissolving on my tongue, I couldn’t agree with him more. I was a live example of the yoyo dieting he was talking about. ‘Bigger snacks, bigger slacks,’ I quietly repeated Jay’s latest dieting mantra to myself.

  ‘Fattest people are often the happiest,’ Sanjeev stated firmly. ‘Research has shown that an increase in your BMI causes a rise in the quantity of serotonin, the feel-good hormone in your body, which leads to a happy state.’

  With convincing arguments like these, Sanjeev could easily put VLCC weight management programmes out of business.

  ‘Do you not like sweets?’ He asked incredulously as he devoured his fifth laddoo.

  I looked at the sinfully delicious contents of the box in his hand and wondered why the things that you desire are always the ones you ought not to be having. A holiday from school, a dance with your boyfriend’s roomy, an ice cream in winters and your dad’s credit card.

  There was only one piece left now. I couldn’t resist any more. I quickly made a dive for the last laddoo but before I could get my hands on it, Sanjeev closed the lid.

  ‘Madhuri ji likes these laddoos. Let’s leave this one for her,’ he said and put the box away.

  Just then the bell rang. Sanjeev got up eagerly to get the door hoping that it would be MD. We were both disappointed to hear Kammo’s honey sugared voice as she walked into the drawing room.

  ‘That is a very interesting tee you are wearing, Deep,’ said Kammo as Deep walked inside from the balcony.

  I turned around to see what was printed on Deep’s t-shirt. I was stunned to see that it had inverted commas drawn in various different poses like 69, 99 etc., and at the bottom it said ‘Comma Sutra’.

  Holy cow! How I had not noticed this before? I looked up to read the expression on Deep’s face and found him smiling suggestively at me. I bit my lips sheepishly and prayed silently that he would not tell everyone about my KS misunderstanding and make fun of me. For good or bad, right now he seemed more interested in Kamini.

  ‘I am glad you found your way,’ remarked Deep, reclaiming the seat opposite mine.

  ‘I can always find my way to you,’ Kammo replied coquettishly, in her high-pitched voice, and sat down on the sofa next to Deep.

  She was wearing a green patiala salwar with a short yellow kurti. A green chiffon chunni adorned her bosom. With her long flowing hair, dangling silver earrings and a small green bindi, she looked quite the epitome of Indian beauty.

  Ignoring Sanjeev and me, she looked into Deep’s eyes and said, ‘I am so excited about singing with you at the annual staff meet.’

  ‘Yeah. Should be fun,’ replied Deep, echoing her enthusiasm.

  ‘I have already shortlisted the songs,’ she squealed excitedly, and started crooning ‘Gum hai kisi ke pyaar mein dil subah shaam…’ She lifted her eyes to look into Deep’s, pouted and then coyly looked down again as Deep joined her in the romantic, playful duet.

  Oh! She was such a show-off. To be fair, she was an amazing singer, perhaps even better than Deep, but I couldn’t stand her self-important attitude. No, I didn’t have any feelings for Deep. It was just that her affected manner of speaking made me pukish.

  Luckily, Madhuri, Vikas and Kavita arrived by the time their song finished. I saw Sanjeev take MD aside and offer her the last laddoo. She smiled demurely and followed him into the kitchen to get the snacks organized. A while later, we were all sitting comfortably, sipping on cold coffee and munching gobhi pakoras. Everyone listened with rapt attention as Deep retold the story of how a sexily innocent-looking girl came up to him and asked him for a lift.

  Having heard it before, I was sitting on the swanky sofa, admiring Sanjeev’s beautiful house and its l
uxurious furnishing, when Kammo asked why Sanjeev had purchased such a huge place.

  ‘Abe sooli pe to nahin chad raha na?’ Vikas jibed.

  Sanjeev’s fair cheeks turned a ripe tomato red at the mention of marriage. ‘I want my parents to come and stay with me,’ he replied with a cherubic smile.

  ‘That could be stifling,’ warned Kavita.

  ‘He is talking about his parents, not his in-laws.’ Vikas took a jab at Kavita and she gave him a disgruntled stare.

  I thought Vikas was being funny, but then I wasn’t married to him. I pursed my lips to stifle the laughter.

  ‘Whole day TV, non-stop nagging, and pooja-paath. Retired parents are a pain, yaar,’ cribbed Kammo.

  Although I could relate to Kavita’s preference for an independent life, I was shocked at Kammo’s disregard for the elders.

  ‘Wah Kammoji! Kya doodh ka karz ada kiya hai apne,’ said MD mockingly.

  ‘I wasn’t breast-fed,’ Kammo shot back angrily.

  A small laugh escaped from my lips and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand.

  ‘Even if your mother didn’t breast-feed you, I am sure your parents helped you walk the first steps of your life,’ said Madhuri in a soft, calm voice, bobbing her head up and down like Dev Anand.

  ‘Everyone’s parents do,’ said Kammo with a simper.

  ‘Shouldn’t you then help them walk their last?’ MD snapped, delivering her punch line in Baghban style.

  Kammo was now lost for words. She looked at Deep for help. Given that Deep had returned to India for his parents’ sake, it was no surprise when he also supported Madhuri’s viewpoint. Kammo was dumbfounded. The swaggering smile painted on her face vanished like Deep had applied a nail polish remover on it.

  ‘I don’t mind the Aastha channel or the “come home soon, eat more, don’t ride a bike” instructions as much,’ intervened Sanjeev. ‘I am more worried because my parents are getting old,’ he clarified, deep furrows materializing between his bushy eyebrows. ‘I need to find a girl, fall in love with her, convince her to marry me and then …’ Sanjeev paused and smiled shyly before continuing, ‘… fulfil my parents’ desire for grand kids. And I have to do all this within a year.’