Page 13 of Knot So Romantic

Venkat is my landlord and owns the property where my boutique is located. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him, but he hasn’t been answering my calls. My mother knew him since she ran a tailoring business on the same property for years before she started working from home after Dad’s stroke.

That’s why I’m hoping if she speaks to Venkat and tells him I’m looking to buy the land, he’ll give me a good deal.

“He hasn’t picked up my call either,” she says. “But I’ll get a hold of him one of these days and talk to him about it.”

“My lease will expire in two months,” I remind her.

“Don’t worry. He’s been wanting to sell it recently after his wife passed away, and he’s decided to move back to his village.”

Once we sit down for lunch, Mom picks up the topic of my marriage. This is the usual scene at my parents’ home at least once a month.

“I’ve got a few new photographs to show you after lunch,” she says enthusiastically as she serves puri and aam ras onto my plate.

“Not interested.” I shake my head and bite into a puri.

“Kavita, you’ll be turning thirty soon,” she says. This is another dialog I’m sick of hearing, but she never gets tired of repeating it. “You need to settle down. How do you intend to get married if we don’t find someone?”

She’s implying, of course, that I can’t find anyone on my own, or more importantly, I haven’t found anyone, and my time is running out soon.

As though after thirty, I’ll turn into a wallflower with no marriage prospects at all.

Hers and Dad’s was a love marriage. She was Dad’s first girlfriend, and they’re still very much in love with each other. “You and Dad found each other, didn’t you?” I pop another poppadom into my mouth and crunch on it loudly.

Mom serves another puffy puri onto my plate and gives me a wide smile. “We’re not going to be around forever. Who’ll you be with?”

Fair point. I might turn into a lonely, old woman who doesn’t find anyone to love and remains single for life.

I understand my mother’s concern, but I only want to marry when I’m ready and when I’ve found the man I’d love to spend the rest of my life with.

“An arranged marriage isn’t such a bad thing, you know?” she huffs again.

It just feels like a transaction every time I meet a guy my parents introduce me to. We go through the usual routine—meeting first at my home, then talking for a few minutes to get to know each other. Then, meeting at his house. By then, the parents are waiting to hear if we ‘clicked,’ and it’s impossible to decide the fate of the rest of our lives after spending just a few hours or even weeks together.

Nothing feels right about being guilt-tripped into meeting these prospects just for my parents’ sake.

“You’re lucky to have Papa,” I smile as I slurp the aam ras straight from the spoon.

“You’re lucky so many good proposals are still coming for you.” Mom piles another puri onto my plate, and Dad eyes her curiously, wondering if she’ll give me his share of puri, too.

She smiles at him and serves him another puri as well.

Dad smiles back contentedly and turns to me. “Your mother has a point.”

“You can just say no,” Mom adds quickly. “But you have to meet at least a few of them.”

I groan with delight as the puri soaked in aam ras melts in my mouth. “This is so good!” I say between mouthfuls, as the blissful meal feels like an orgasm in my taste buds.

“You should learn to cook,” Mom says. “We can tell the boy’s family you’re a wonderful cook.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want.”

Dad chuckles.

Mom glares at him. “What’s wrong with learning how to cook? Every boy and girl should know how.”

“I’d like it very much if the boy’s family told me that he’s a great cook,” I say cheekily.

My mom rolls her eyes and refuses to take my bait.