192. CONTACTING SHASHI KAPOOR

Normally I don’t contact younger men. Though, there are times, many times, I think I should. Rohit married Meera when he was 32 and in the “interested to get married” phase. Maybe I need to catch desi men before they become “emotionally stunted, unable to commit, pretend to date me, and then ultimately disappear.”

Today’s prospective groom is: “letsattemptthis” and writes: “Let’s talk and see where it goes... hopefully shaadi. I am pretty focused on getting married, just waiting to meet the right person. More details about me when we meet.” Additional profile details reveal he is 34, athletic, fair, Punjabi, in finance, eats meat and drinks alcohol. I decide to contact him, not because I am deluded and think he will marry me, but I hope he’s not full of shit like his predecessors and actually serious about this. Besides, given the sad state of my romantic affairs, I am in NO position NOT to consider a man who claims to be waiting for the “right person”. In my note of interest I include my email address and request for photos.



Dil

Almost immediately, “letsattemptthis”, aka Shashi Kapoor, writes back and requests my contact information. And yes, Shashi Kapoor is his name, like the old black and white Bollywood actor. This triggers me to remember one of my favorite Bollywood movie scenes in Dil, with Aamir Khan and Madhuri Dixit. In the movie, Aamir slinks into Madhuri’s bedroom late one night, wakes her, breaks a wooden chair, lights it on fire and makes a crude havan (wedding fire). As the chair burns Aamir cuts his finger and lets the blood drip onto the part of Madhuri’s hair, a temporary sundoor (desi women wear red powder to signify they are married). She ties her dupata (long scarf) to the shawl draped over his shoulders and they make the seven rounds around the fire, vowing themselves to one another in marriage. Of course her parents (who do not approve of Aamir) are sleeping in other room and don’t hear a sound.

Shoot! Is every communication with Shashi Kapoor going to invoke Bollywood melodrama for me? I click open the email and review his photos. He is decent looking, not what I would call fair, but who cares. One photo is a headshot in which he wears a blue button down against custard walls. The other is of him smiling, sitting on a couch with his mobile phone drawn to his ear wearing a wife beater. I hope he was doing laundry and ALL his clothes were dirty. Why else does anyone send that of all snaps?

While I’m liberated, I do think a man should call first. I email back, thanking him for the photos and send my contact information. And then, I wait, hoping he is the hero of my Bollywood movie!