Page 27 of Red Flags and Rishtas
‘The same thing I asked you the last time we were here together. Why would someone like you turn to arranged marriage?’
He took a breath and I wondered if he was contemplating whether to tell me the truth or not. Was his family pressuring him? Was he a traditionalist? Or did he derive some weird form of entertainment from the process?
‘I want to start a family,’ he finally said.
‘Um …’ I said, motioning for him to elaborate.
‘I’m just ready to settle down. That’s all,’ he said, holding my gaze.
‘So you’re going to let your parents find a girl for you?’ I asked, genuinely puzzled by what I was hearing.
‘I mean, why not? They’re just introducing me to the right pool of people,’ he said, then added after a second, ‘They’re like Tinder … for marriage.’
I laughed at that and he joined in. From across the room, I caught Pooja’s eye, and she nodded at me approvingly.Wait a second, was this actually working?
‘But, the whole system is so regressive,’ I said, getting back to the subject. ‘I mean, how can you gallivant all your life and then look for a virgin bahu when you turn twenty-eight? It’s ridiculous.’
He raised his hand, gesturing to a waiter who was serving drinks. It turned out to be Jerry. He greeted us warmly, happy to see the two people he knew at this party together. He replaced our glasses with two fresh whisky waters and left.
‘But I’m not looking for a virgin bahu,’ he said, clinking his glass with mine. ‘I’d like a virgin patni.’
He laughed at his own joke and I shook my head.
I clicked my tongue when I spoke, ‘You know what I mean. There are so many other hypocritical things. And don’t even get me started on the religion, caste and class filters.’
He nodded, tapping his hands on the clothed table.
‘Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be like that. A system is what you make of it. I’m looking for a girl to settle down with. I don’t care about her past, her background and all of that,’ he argued.
‘Hmm,’ I said, trying to bite my tongue.
No part of me believed that he was as liberal in his matchmaking ventures as he was making it sound. Even if he didn’t have the typical arranged marriage filters in place, his parents would. I could bet my life on the fact that a Muslim girl would never seep through that protective net. But it felt like we were getting along, and I had to keep up my agreeable act if I wanted this night to go in my favour. So even though it physically pained me not to argue with him on the matter, I decided to let it go.
‘So how many women have you seen?’ I asked.
‘Like biodatas or in person?’
‘The latter.’
He shifted his weight from one leg to another, and I snuck a glance at my phone. It was five past midnight, and people were beginning to leave. The room felt emptier than before, and the music had mellowed down too. Apart from Rajat and another intern from the office, I couldn’t spot any lurking coworkers.
‘I haven’t really kept count,’ he said, shrugging.
‘Give me a ballpark figure.’
‘I don’t know. Twenty? Thirty, maybe.’
That, for some reason, cracked me up. A loud laugh erupted from me, and I felt a few eyes on me from around the room. Aadar waited for me to stop laughing, unimpressed.
‘I just realised what you are,’ I said, trying to stifle another laugh.
‘What?’
‘A serial suitor,’ I said and burst out laughing again.
His amusement at me was laced with a speck of annoyance.
‘All right, I think you’ve had enough,’ he said, eyeing my half-empty whisky glass.
