Desi Train

About 6 years ago, before putting my profile on about 6 Indian Matrimonial sites, before placing a matrimonial ad in 3 U.S. based Indian newspapers, before 200 phone conversations, before those 15 – 20 meetings in person…..before all that there was me - straight, innocent, oiled hair, carrying his bag to work, back home, watching tv, going to bed after saying his prayers. That was me - one who wanted to succeed in the U.S., get married to a nice desi girl found by my parents and live happily ever after.

Well…it’s been a long journey, these 6 years. A lot has changed. My monthly budget sheet since the last 72.5 months has item no. 34 which reads Pay Matrimonial Sites Membership, which is like allocating my f-ing money each month to food and groceries; years of phone abuse from parents of women I’ve never met have thickened my skin, I’ve almost given up all hope that there exists single Indian women in the U.S. who are not stuck up in nature; all good Indian women have been taken; I’m dating (and enjoying it) all but Indian women – having discarded the notion of that there exists such a thing as marriages made in heaven; I’ve realized the ultimate truth that making love to beautiful women in my warm bed feels much better than shagging in cold bathrooms; You don’t have to be married to do all that – the making love to a woman part not the shagging part (you never know who’ll be reading this blog); I plan to open a marriage site for Indians so I can make money too, expecting each idiot - sorry – member, of my future site to have a line number 34 in their monthly budget which would read ‘Monthly fee for OZ matrimonial site” and that line number 34 stays month after month till they get old or retire, which ever comes later.

Analyzing these last 6 years of abuse at the hands of these online sites and people these sites got me in touch with, would be great if I had taken my multi-mineral, multi-vitamin, multi-what the fuck have you pills this morning….so the option here is to simply lay down a couple of incidents. My part in the conversations with people are put in italics.

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Cold November, Californian night. 10:30pm. I’m deep asleep. Ring ring. Ring ring. My phone’s screaming, piercing the silence of the night. I wake up with a jerk screaming Dad, Mom nooooo I swear I did my homework before going to bed; damn, I’m dreaming…Pick up the phone:
Hello
Male over 50’s voice: “DID YOU PUT YOUR AD IN XYZ PAPER…”
It sounds like someone saw my picture in a Wanted dead or Alive poster and has turned his voice box on max volume…I gather my thoughts and analyze it must be my ad for matrimony in one the newspapers.
Yes…Hello
“WHAT DO YOU DO, AND WHERE ARE YOU LOCATED?”
This man does have an attitude problem screaming over the phone. But the goodness in me pushes me to respectfully answer his question.
“WHAT IS YOU NAME” – I give the answer
“WHERE ARE YOU FROM IN INDIA” – I give the answer
“WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS DO” – I give the answer
“WHAT DO YOUR UNCLES AND AUNTS DO” – I give the answer
“WHERE DO YOU WORK AND HOW MUCH DO YOU MAKE” – I give the answer. Fucking bitch. This could be a man just trying to steal my identity. What’s he gonna ask next: My social security number?
“WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE” – I snap….and the next half of the conversation goes like this:
WHO ARE YOU? - he meekly answers
WHAT DOES YOUR DAUGHTER DO? - he meekly answers
WHAT DO YOU DO? - he meekly answers
SEND YOUR DAUGHTER’S PICS TO THIS EMAIL - he meekly affirms
WE’LL TALK AFTER EXCHANGING, PICS - he must have nodded I guess cause I slam the phone down before he says anything.

4 Days later

Cold Californian night. 10:30 pm. I’m deep asleep. The phone rings. I groggily pick up the receiver:
Man in his late 50s: “DID YOU PUT YOUR AD IN XYZ PAPER…” – Bejesus…what the fuck? It’s him again!!!!
Yes
“WHAT DO YOU DO, AND WHERE ARE YOU LOCATED?”
Controlling myself from turning the Punjabi freaking anger on this guy I go like this:
Sir, we spoke few days ago. You must have forgotten, and are calling me again.
Him – “Uh…oh….oh…oh…ummm…”
you were supposed to send me your daughter’s pics
Him – “oh..yes yes yes…I sent it.”
I did not receive it
Him – “but I did….emailed it to you”
No I haven’t received it so far. Kindly email it again. I put the phone down and pray to God to never make the phone ring at 1030pm on cold Californian nights. HE must have listened, it rarely has.

Sunny Spring. Saturday. 10am morning. I’m getting ready for kayaking. Phone rings.
Hello
Middle aged Lady “Hello beta. I’m Lalita-JEE. I’m the aunt of the girl. You emailed me your number”- It’s the aunt of a girl whose profile I liked so I sent an email with my phone number to this girl or whoever checks the email.
Oh yes..how are you
‘Fine thank you. Beta how long have you been in the U.S.?’ – I answer the question

Declare variable XnumberOfQuestions
For XnumberOfQuestions = 1 TO 2000
Aunty-JEE Questions me
me gives answers
Next

Questions asked included NEW ones I’ve never heard before: “Name of your company”, “Phone number of your company”, “Name of your boss”, “Phone number of your boss”
At the end of 2000th question: Aunty-JEE says “Thank you beta, I’ll talk to my niece and get back to you”

Wait…Could you tell me something about your niece

Aunty-JEE’s reply “It’s too early to talk about such details. Let me give you a call back after talking to my niece”
Aunty-JEE hangs up the phone…respectfully.

You keep the phone down and sense some kind of a feeling or emotion inside you, which can best be explained like this: You are sitting on an Inquiry window. Aunty-JEE walks up to the window and takes a raw egg from her purse and smashes it on your head. She wipes her hand off your shirt and walks away. You sit there staring outside your inquiry window. Five minutes later. Aunty-JEE walks up to the window and takes a raw egg from her purse and smashes it on your head. She wipes her hand off your shirt and walks away. You sit there staring outside your inquiry window. Another five minutes later. Aunty-JEE walks up to the window…..THIS FUCKING HAPPENS 2000 TIMES….YOU ARE A FUCKING A-HOLE….DEAL WITH IT!

June. California. Receive an email from the sister of a girl who has seen my online profile. We exchange a few emails, I get to speak to the girl’s sister, her mother, her mother talks to my mother, her mother talks to my Dad, my Dad talks to me, I talk to the girl. So the girl and I talk to each other a few times. She’s of Indian origin by brought up here and doesn’t remember much of India nor can’t speak any Indian language. I don’t care. She’s nice, beautiful, she likes me, and we find similar qualities which we want to see in our significant other.

Its time she says one fine day, to see each other. Question in my mind: Who will travel to whom? You see she lived on the east coast while I was here on the west. Being the gentleman that I am, I offer to fly to her. She say make it 4 days of stay. My risk management bell starts ringing. – In case, just in case, we find that we don’t like each other in person as much as we did on the phone, - then guys 4 days is going to be freaking hell. So I suggest – no, just a weekend cause I have work. Book the flight to her place. The day arrives. Early morning. I drive to the airport, whistling my- the then favorite tune – “Jane kya dhoondta hain, yeh mera dil, tujhko kya chaihiye zindagi…” (by Lucky Ali)…take the flight. Land at the destination. Girl standing out there at the baggage claim. Her long hair blowing slightly in the mild summer wind, few strands cover her face, those beautiful eyes searching for me in the crowd, her beautiful lips waiting to part to call out my name, - a beautiful scene, like in slow motion people are walking by us, she’s standing still looking for me, while I’m entrapped frozen in the beauty of the moment…I walk slowly towards her and thinking to myself this beautiful moment will always be framed in the memory of my mind…I walk close to her, she sees me, her eyes begin to grow wider, her lips part starting to form a smile and then suddenly the right corner of her lip gets frozen- steady, while the left corner spreads wide wide wide to the left, the frozen scene shatters, people around us return to walking at original pace, the smile I expected was a smirk, a physical display of the emotion called “What the fuck did I get into”….so now I see right through what she feels in person and there is 28 hours to go for my return flight.

She knows, she shouldn’t have called me, my pics are accurate, recent and she thought I looked like Hritik Roshan, yeah right!…..we both do not want to be in this situation and want this to end ASAP. She cause something in my physical personality wasn’t appealing to her, and me cause she wasn’t interested any more. 28 hours to go before I take a return flight. So we drive around, coffee, see her house, coffee, beer, coffee, go to a book store, more coffee, more beer and THERE’S STILL 27 FUCKING HOURS TO GO before my return FLIGHT!!!!!!!. I politely ask her to drop me at my hotel. Have a dinner reservation with her, she calls up 2 hours before dinner that she’s stuck some place and that we can have dinner after 2 more hours. Fine with me. So we meet for dinner at 945pm. She brings her sister and her friends…don’t ask…and I don’t care what happened next. Catching the flight back home the next day was similar to feeling that I had been released from jail after a long, no, very very long time.

Guys – don’t rush to see girls in other cities or states. You have to be sure. And if you care to follow my policy – ask the girls to come over to your city. Split the costs of travel if required. But don’t ever make my mistake. Incase you still want to do it, email me and I’ll send you a 10 feet by 2 feet pole which you can use to screw yourself. Why the hell do you have to spend the time, energy and money and get yourself screwed a thousand miles away in an alien city full of strangers where you don’t know anyone and no one knows you. Instead screw yourself up with this pole in the comfort of your own home, get the satisfaction from it, delete all of this girl’s emails, block her profile and move on to someone new.

And then there are cases (atleast 3 on last count) where the girls parents call up, speak nicely, speak politely giving me space to answer questions….wow this is awesome. My hopes are up. There do exist good people I think. The parents’ pass on the girl’s number and a good time to call. Awesome! I call the girl up or sometimes the girl calls me up before I can and goes “Listen – I’m not interested in getting married…I want to concentrate on my career. So thank you for your time and I’ll let my parents know about our conversation”…Click…..To know exactly how I feel when that happens – imagine the same scene mentioned a few pages ago. You are sitting on the inquiry window…you get the picture.

So let me get this straight. These girls have their ads on matrimony sites because they DON’T want to get married, but somehow want to display their pictures and personal things about themselves on the internet. Why the fuck don’t they get their pictures and profiles published on porn sites – atleast they’ll make some money out of it. I mean do these women get some kind of sickening sadistic pleasure in doing this, making their parents talk to guys, and then calling the guy up to say they are not interested….????? Why the hell is GOD creating so many fucking crazy Desi Women and if that is not enough why is HE exporting each of them to the U.S.? I know the good fantastic DESI Women have all been taken, but is something wrong with GOD’s production plant that we don’t get to see any of them as single any more????

A few months later….
My Psychiatrist seriously wants to talk to all those girls’ parents and aunts I’ve spoken to, to help resolve my low self-esteem and depression issue.

A few months later…
The Psychiatrist of my Psychiatrist is desperately trying to get in touch with me and all the girls and the girls’ families I’ve ever spoken to – to help resolve the low-self esteem and depression, my Psychiatrist, now suffers from. (Don’t blame me! I never knew this thing was contagious)

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 19th, 2005 at 9:57 am
Filed under Comedy, Life Flava, Superhit Posts
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