Remember that one time when my mother was trying to find me a bride? Apparently it’s an inherited trait. She gets it from my grandmother, her mother.
My parents and sister are visiting my family in Calcutta, India. And obviously, since my grandma loves me so much that the topic of when I settle down is constantly on her mind. My cousin (who’s gonna get a massive ass whooping the next time I meet him), takes a picture of mine from my Facebook album, of when I took a vacation to San Francisco last November, prints and circulates it around Mommy’s side of the family. Harmless, non-scandalous picture of my friend KB and me standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. And I may or may not have had my arm around her shoulder. Or waist. I don’t remember. No biggie. Or so I thought.
Sunny California!
The second my 80 year old Grandma gets on the phone she starts with her third degree. She uses a really hard Bengali word, which I had no clue about. The conversation went somewhat like this:
Didu: So wh0 is that <insert super tough, super esoteric word here>?
Me: Huh? What?
Didu (yelling into the phone): Who is that <insert super tough, super esoteric word here>?
Me: Who what!?
Didu (clearing her throat and screaming out loud): WHO IS THAT <insert super tough, super esoteric word here>?
At this point, my never ending huh’s and what’s were starting to get awkward and I thought it was wise to change tactics.
Me: Yes yes Didu, you’re right.
Didu: You moron, I’m asking who that pretty girl with you is in the picture in front of the orange bridge.
Me: Aaaah.. that’s my friend KB.
And then starts her barrage of questions starting! What’s her name? Full name? What does she do? Where does she live? Is she Bengali? Can she cook? Can she cook well? Can she cook Bengali food? WHAT! She’s vegetarian!? OMGWTFNOWAI! GPA? What’s her sunsign? Is she Manglik? She better be, because you’re a Manglik. It was at this point that I stopped listening. I blurred out the sounds and went to my happy place. Kati Roll in New York. It was a few minutes later that I realized that the phone was now with my sister. She tells me that I can breathe easy. She’s all, “Didu took a closer look at one of the pictures and saw that KB’s left eye looked marginally smaller than the right one. And promptly rejected her as a potential bride.” I breathed a sigh of relief. But then again, I am her favorite grandson. Okay, second favorite grandson. (She has two grandsons). Abhishek Bachchan lookalike par excellence. Nothing less than the best for me.
Morty got game!
I’m glad she has no clue about the shenanigans from 25th birthday.
Update: I’ve been informed that <insert super tough, super esoteric word here> is the Bengali word for a “female friend”. This is why I bring shame to Bong’s worldwide. Yay me!
