MERE SISTER KA DULHA
Travails of a brother
Over the past few weeks I have begun to realise that finding a suitable match for one’s sister is a not a cakewalk. For me it all starts with a telephone call on my mom’s mobile, picked up by dad, logging on to my mother’s email-id and final product- the guy’s profile in the hands of my dad, and of course yes- it all ends with my sister’s customary shaking of her head as a sign of disapproval, and then we start it all over again.
It is a good test of one’s patience as we go through an endless list of profiles, and as we hop from one matrimonial website to another, it gives you the feeling that: Oh God is this ever going to end?
Since my sister has her own set of conditions and criteria for the “Mr. Perfect”, I and my dad have to go through a slew of profiles of guys ranging from fields of IT to Medical to Commerce and the like. Since my father is not computer savvy he puts me in front of the computer to help him with the latest mails that are sent on my mother’s account. Since the list is pretty long I make sure that at least a couple of windows are open alongside the matrimonial website. They generally are Facebook and YouTube. So my first job is to open my mother’s Gmail account and look at the latest mails that have come. Then I give the information to my dad as to who has shown interest in the advertisement we posted in the newspaper or who has followed up on our telephonic conversation. As we hail from an orthodox Tamil family, our search invariably heads towards Tamil guys. While I look through the pictures of my prospective brother-in-law. I wonder to myself: “Is this the one?”
As I take print-outs of the profiles of different guys, I sometimes yell at my sister: “Why don’t you choose a guy for yourself and save us the trouble? She retorts: Ya, as if the guys are on sale in the market.” Is it difficult to find a decent guy? I wonder.
Sometimes I take my wonder a few steps farther. Once the guy is selected, the preparations for her engagement, and then her marriage need to be done. Just the thought of it all gives me the creeps. However, I realise that being the son of the house if I don’t take responsibility who will? Just as I am about to finish off this piece, there rings my Mom’s mobile again. Off to my computer. Dad, let’s start.
