Matrimonials

Damn those matrimonial ads! " God-fearing, ancient RC malayalee family hailing from central Travancore invites proposals from professional green-card or citizen men -doctors-engineers-computer-related anyone from RC families in the US, for their Fair & Lovely, US Educated, humble, independent (yet God and husband-fearing) smart, cooking skilled ("she slices, she dices"), old-fashioned (yet tech savvy), career-minded daughter (albeit FREAK of a daughter who gets drunk every chance she gets and parties til 5 in the morning). Sure, what more could you want.
Why do all matrimonials sound the same? Why can't they be truthful instead a jumble of cliches gleaned off of other ads. Why don't they just say, "As in the traditional manner of establishing marriage as the goal of human existence, I've got a daughter/son who is of marriagable age as society has deemed it. If you have one too, fabulous! I'm sure yours is wheat-complected and God-fearing too. How about you send me a picture. If your son/daughter is ugly or if our family-friends relate seeing him/her make out with some non-Desi, we shall politely refuse by saying he/she is too tall/short. It's the only decent way."
The sad thing is, if you are truthful in a matrimonial ad, it is so obvious that you must have written it yourself and not your parents. Parents include such attractive zingers such as "homely" to mean traditional and "God-fearing" to mean religious. These are catch-phrases that have proven their worth again and again. How can you beat that? You write something akin to "traditional and religious" and parents who read the ads will know something is up: "Ayyo, she is not God-fearing......her parents didn't write this ad! Oh goodness gracious, perhaps she is orphaned or perhaps she is a disappointment to her parents that she has to write her own ad. Ende devamay!!"
Another thing is that only parents read matrimonial ads and since they can tell which ones were written by their parental peers, they will point out the other ones as some sort of inticement. "See, this boy wrote himself. That means he is not being forced." Yeaaa right, like I'm not being forced when I'm given an ultimatum in the middle of a heated argument: "You write one or vee vill write for you!!" Yea, mom and dad, I have a lot of choice here, don't I?
I feel sorry most for those kids in my position who have to write an ad as their parents dictate it to them because supposedly the parents "don't speak English good, monay." And those poor unfortunates have to cringe as mom and dad analyze the range between "fair" and "wheat-complected," the validity of skin color as a religious and cultural indicator, and the modicum of difference between skin shades. Matrimonial ads are inherently racist, says I, especially when skin color is the basis of selection! Of course, people would be shocked to be accused of racism but in the same instant argue that somehow being "fair" makes for a "better" alliance. Yea, buddy, that makes a lot of sense: "I'm not racist but being white is prettier." What a load of crap.
Blah, so what's the point to my complaining? I'm still unhitched and not necessarily enjoying it. However, it's the principle of the matter, I say! My individuality has been distilled down to a description my parents pay per word to have some fish-wrap of a newspaper advertise me amongst a myriad of others. I don't stand out here. I sound just like the other ads around me, the others who have gone before, and the others who are yet to come.
How can you weed out a soulmate in all this verbose garbage? I advocate the use of a code word that only your soulmate would know. I think my code word would be synchronicity. Yea, so you have the typical matrimonial bs: "RC parents seek alliances....blah blah blah," and then all of a sudden the word "SYNCHRONICITY" would appear in all caps, for no rhyme or reason, right in the middle of the ad. Most people would be ignore it and silently blame the editor for being a lazy bum who can't even do his job. But, my soulmate, the bright, fantastic person that he is, would be, like, "hmmm" and would try to figure out this oddly positioned word and what it was doing there. And VOILA, we would meet, affirm that yes, it was indeed synchronicity, we would get married, live happily ever after, etc, etc, the end. La dee da.
Damn you. *L.J scowls and shakes an angry fist at the Malayalam newspaper sitting on the table* Where's my fennel? Ah, glorious fennel-induced sleep. Good night people!

Supari Fiend

My supari ingestions had reached crisis levels, supposedly. Dude, it's not even real supari....just that crap they hand out at desi restaurants as a "mouth refresher/digestive aid" when you leave. Anyway, so we all call it "supari" since it resembles the actual stuff and it's easier than saying the-crap-they-hand-out-at-desi-restaurants.
Anyway, two nights ago, as I was working on my various papers and unconciously hand-to-mouthing my 6/8th bottle of "supari" that was left, A.A. and A.F came by to "see how I was doing". Yea, right. So I hid the "supari" bottle because I know they were going to check the level of "supari" depletion. Well, unluckily, they found it. Try as I might, I couldn't get the bottle back. They had to literally wrestle the bottle from me.
Man, it was like the whole Bournvita bottle episode back in Bangalore when Bobby and Anu took and hid my bottle of Bournvita....My bottle of Bournvita from which I religiously ate a spoonful of the malt chocolate (embued with vitamins and minerals) as soon as I came back from college. It was Bournvita, for gosh sakes! It was, like, my only source of calcium. Besides, it tasted really good. Just like "supari". And "supari" can be good for you. Fennel, which is a main component of "supari", is good for you. Fennel is a digestive aid and liver tonic. Seeeeee???
Anyway, so lacking my supari to keep me awake with my papers, I went to sleep, the withdrawal symptoms of extreme lethargy already taking over.
The next day, however, I did get my presentation done. Ironically, our last class was to be held at a desi restaurant nearby. I suppose I knew I would be in the presence of "supari" but I was too worried about my paper to care. At the end of the class time, our professor decided to give us a "treat": PAAN. That's right; the actual addictive betel-leaf-surrounding-actual-betel-nut-supari treat. My professor said in India you put the whole leaf-wrapped concoction in your mouth. "Aaaah refreshing", she said. Me and this other girl were the only desi-familiar people in class and suddenly my desiness seemed to be called into question if I did not put the whole damn thing in my mouth at once. So I did. Remind me never to put the whole of ANYTHING in my mouth if I don't know what it tastes like to begin with. It was horrible. Every bite sent another shock of painful sensations through my mouth. I was at a point where I couldn't spit it out or swallow it. I was doomed to chew and chew the abhorrant substance as it ate away at the inside of my mouth. My professor saw the grimace on my face..."Is it strong?" She asks. Good lord, woman!! If it had been any stronger my mouth would have been shooting fireworks up the wazoo. I could feel the insides of my mouth being worn away. I'm sure it was bleeding. Painfully, I finally ate the damn thing. My professor took a nibble--yes, JUST a nibble!--and stated rather nonchalantly, "yes, it is slightly stronger than stuff I've had before." I swallowed water in hopes of flushing it out but the water just reminded me of how much of my mouth had been made raw! I swore I would never eat paan or frickin "supari" or anything of the sort again. I tried to eat the "supari" at the door as we left, thinking it wouldn't be as bad. Bad idea. The fennel stabbed the raw surfaces along the inside of my cheeks and gums. I ran outside and spit the crap out. I'm sure people must have thought I was some uncouth FOB spitting the red crap all over the pavement.
Talk about being taught a lesson. Down with supari! (Fennel is still good for you though.)
It didn't help when A.A. and A.F. made me go through the ordeal of gargling salt water in order to heal the inside of my mouth. I guess they were right. I saw a website today about how they add mouth-tingling addictive substances to "supari" made in Pakistan and India. My "supari" habit must have made my mouth super-sensitive. Geeez, talk about rubbing salt in your wounds.