gosmoking

judgment day

So we waited. baba, ma, space cadet younger bro and i. And her dad. For S, the potential bahu to join us. Truth is, she wasn’t just joining us casually, she was being presented. Finery, best behavior, spruced up living room: every word and action big on symbolism: a semiotic-ian’s dream. Baba and mr.m had morphed into news channel anchors: the recent elections, misappropriation of funds, the stock market movements. Ma and the bro were muttering amongst themselves about some Darjeeling holiday he wanted to go on.

While I waited to be judged: got microscope, got bug. crew to take off stations please.

As if on cue the mind plummeted into self doubt: Will I cut the grade? Am I worth experimenting? Do I have the potential to provide: materially, emotionally, in fun, in troughs? Could I become the person, she looks forward to? The reason which inspires belief in matrimony. And vice versa.

How long before we get our answers to the above? How long does it takes to decide? Is ‘blink’ true? What if the room doesn’t start burning the minute I see her? What happens now? Who can really see the future?

And then she walks in, with her mom, sits next to me, our eyes meet and lightening doesn’t strike. No dramatic rise in awareness caused by beating hearts. No widening of the pupils in attraction. Zip. Blank. Nothing. The pilot didn’t even need to retract the wheels, flight over. We did speak, something inane, about the weather and for some strange reason hazaar khwaishen aise… and then we stopped. Very nice samsoas, from some place in Park Circus. Awesome abar khabos. Dead air.

I smile at S, she smiled back and both of us realized that we wouldn’t be meeting each other ever again. The proposition had too many wholes. The presentation bombed.

Next…

posted by goldfluke @ 8:07 PM