Top 5 in LKNB: Ask by Neelima

It was not that Raghav had not experienced love of the first degree. He had, several times in fact. He knew the degrees of emotion that followed the first glance, the realization of her presence among so many others, the desire to let your eyes rest on hers, the electric urge to fall into the wellspring of desire and then, of course…he knew all that. The only problem he had according to his mother was that he could not commit.

“And it’s about time Raghu. I’m not going to be making you rajma and rice all my life. Make it on your own or get a wife who can make it for you.” Raghav gave her a cursory glance as his fingers texted out a business email on his blackberry. He marveled at his mother’s cluelessness about women today and their culinary skills.

Take Nisha. She was the perfect fit-the right height, the right background(their dads were good friends), the right profession(she had an MBA like he did) but she was a hard core feminist whose sharing the chores obsession made her a terrible choice for a live in partner. Then there was Sadee, a girl of mixed ethnicity who Raghav still couldn’t completely forget.  Her drawback- she only ate out. It was all fine on dates but everyday? What are restaurants for then? , she said and he said “What are kitchens for?” and there ended a story.

It was unfortunate that food had to be a part of the marriage deal, but it was , at least in Raghav’s case. So when his mother asked him to go to Nagpur, the city of oranges, to see a girl, he agreed. He was thirty four already. Nowadays twenty five year old men had families. He had had too many relationships and too many disappointments- he was starting to look forward to the woman of his mother’s dreams- the quite educated but not too well educated sort who was good with everyone, could run the household, satisfy him and of course make good rajma and rice, which was all he needed.

All the way to Nagpur, he tried to make sense of the photograph his mother had showed him. The girl’s family had sent him several snaps of the girl at various angles , so that he could a better perspective of her. They had  arranged for a skype chat as well, but he preferred to see the girl first in flesh and blood and let his hormones decide if they were compatible at a basic level.

The girl was tall enough and a dusky wheatish complexion. She was a commerce graduate and worked in the accounts department of an unknown enough company. She had acne, he could tell, even through all the foundation she wore for the photograph.  Her eyebrows were plucked to arrow-like arcs, so she was the sort who took care of her appearance, which was always good in the long run. Her shape was pleasing, more than her face, he decided, which was also not such a bad thing; he didn’t want a wife who attracted too much attention for her beauty.

He was showered with warm welcoming smiles and a family that he instantly felt an affinity to, which was strange as he had never been to Nagpur before, except once on a company assignment. “Where is your mother? She should have come-we had made all the arrangements.” Raghav did not explain how difficult it had been to keep her away- how he begged and pleaded that he meet the girl first before any of the formalities were drawn. He didn’t want to repeat the embarrassments he had suffered with Nisha and so many others.

The girl’s family ushered him into a room. Raghav looked around anxiously. There was a small bed and a picture of Radha and Krishna. This sealed it for him. A young woman walked in. “I’m Mohini.” she said casually as she sat in a cane chair that he hadn’t noticed at the side of the bed. She wore a white salwar kameez and her acne was acute, especially as the sun caught her face.

Raghav caught her observing him carefully as though he were a rodent about to be dissected. Their mutual dissection lasted for five seconds that seemed as long as eternity.”You know something!”, Mohini exclaimed, changing the tense feeling in the room suddenly to one of immense brightness.”Has anyone told you that you look like Nehru?”

Raghav blushed a deep crimson. He was often called handsome which was why he never had any shortage of female friends, but Nehru? No, no one had said that to him at all. When he looked at her again, Raghav noticed that Mohini had neat features- a couple of penicillin injections would cure the acne. He also noticed her curviness and felt soothed.

“I don’t understand this arranged marriage business Raghav.” Mohini said as she sat cross legged on the cane chair.” I’ve been thinking and thinking how can I say okay I’ll sleep with you? How can I just do that unless I’m really hundred percent sure?”

Raghav nodded in agreement. She had a point.

“So I thought what is the one thing that I like the most? If you can answer something like a questionnaire, then I can correlate your likes with mine and we can have further discussions.”

Raghav’s eyes gave her an are you serious? look and she returned an I am serious look.

The questionnaire had been printed out. There were all kinds of questions that required a one-word answer. Do you smoke? Do you drink? Which pubs have you visited? Who is the author of A Tale of Two cities?

He laughed when he read the one about the two cities.

“What about me? Don’t I get to make a questionnaire?” he asked.

He filled out the questionnaire in good humour. Sometimes, when I don’t drink. Sometimes, when I don’t smoke. All the pubs in Bangalore. He wasn’t sure about the Tale of Two cities though- he reckoned it was a movie. Literature was not his area. “I don’t know this one.” he said pointing to question eight.

Mohini wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you read books then?” she dug her thoughtful fist into her acned cheek.

“Don’t get the time.” Raghav brushed off her question and went on to question nine. What is the capital of Romania? The question created a physical sensation in him that reminded him of the helplessness he experienced during GK quizzes his school organized every Thursday of long ago.

“Don’t mind me asking, but are you trying to humiliate your prospective husband?” Raghav put down the ballpoint pen and looked squarely at this woman whom he was thinking of marrying. Her pimples were visible now- a dark red and burgundy. He felt like pinching each one till they ran blood.

“I didn’t expect such a response Raghav. What other way is there for me to assess you? Look around you.” Raghav looked around and the room was taking shape. Besides the bed and the cane chair and the window, there were several cupboards lined up- all of them were filled with books in various states of decay. “These are the books that I got from my uncle. He’s a professor in Delhi. He’s what you would call an omnivorous reader- he reads just about anything-horticulture, space travel, the double helix, the Upanishads and pigeons.”

Raghav was still trying to get her point. He was baffled by his inability to recall the capital of Romania, as though he had found himself in one of those exam hall dreams.

“What I’m trying to say Raghav is that I have to read all these books- that’s a promise I’ve made myself. I live and breathe books and if you don’t know who wrote A Tale of two cities then we might as well call it wraps.”

That was easy enough, Raghav mused. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? The questionnaire to every girl he met before they decided to take the plunge and share fantasies that hardly matched.

He couldn’t believe it though when he found himself saying, ”but Mohini I could learn.”

Mohini sat up in her chair and looked at him as though to say but I didn’t see that coming.

“Now I could ask you a few things too. You can call me a male chauvinist pig but all I need is someone who likes to listen to me talk and yes, I will be a chauvinist and ask you if you know how to make rajma.”

Mohini bit her lip in a state of dismay and amusement “Of course, not.” The wind blew the laced curtains upwards and she noticed the Nehruvian chin. She couldn’t help thinking how fine her children could look and she said, “But I could learn.”

The marriage was fixed soon after a skype chat that Mohini insisted on to know more about her future husband’s preferences. She had always thought her acne would prevent her from getting a groom and had devised so many methods to deal with rejection. She smiled hard for her marriage photo as she knew the man who stood beside her was a chauvinist she needed, by far the most handsome chauvinist she had ever learned to love.