The next morning I wake up. Something feels off but I cannot determine what. So I brush my teeth, turn on the computer and brew coffee. Normally I don’t eat breakfast. I know, I am naughty for skipping the most important meal of the day. But today I feel the need for a hearty oatmeal.
I pad back into the bedroom, bowl of oats in one hand, spoon in the other. Normally I hear my phone ding, announcing text messages or emails. But it has been remarkably silent since I have been up, which is odd, but a nice change of pace. I stop to wonder if the battery needs charging. Which begins a small investigation around my 130 square foot bedroom. Well this odd, too. I cannot seem to find the phone. So I decide to call my mobile phone from my landline. I go IMMEDIATELY into my voicemail. This is no good. Then I remember turning it off and root around the room, crawling around on my hands and knees, combing each and every inch of the room.
Finally (thanks to great Ganesh), I find my phone. I turn it on and wait for the settings to load. I continue shoveling oatmeal into my mouth and read the online news. Then my reading is RUDELY interrupted by the phone’s incessant, non-stop dinging, alerting me to emails and voicemails. It is rattling around on the desk so violently that I think it might burst. Once the phone stops dinging I reach over and see 43 missed calls. What the…?
Slowly I remember some woman telling me she was responding to my ad. What ad is this? I scroll through the missed calls because that is MUCH easier than contemplating listening to the voicemails. All the calls are from Indian mobile numbers, none of which belong to my rellies in Delhi. Whatever. It is WAY too early to play Sherlock Holmes and I assume that someone mis-dialed or something.
I finish my oatmeal and online news review and log into my email. Holy MOTHER of God. I have over 20 emails from rediff.com accounts, a very popular email provider for desis in India. As I scroll through emails whose subject line reads: “Your ad in the Times of India” I now understand what has happened.
Bangalore Cousin’s matrimonial post for Desi Girl is live in the capital city of the largest democracy (one billion strong) on Earth. OMFG…
6 comments:
aaahhh...the joys of being a single desi woman!! i had the same thing done to me, thanks to some well meaning relatives in punjab. even had someone respond saying they were captain of their bhangra team! even had a kabaddi player in the mi too! that was hilarious!! looking back, i can smile and laugh about it, but at that time i was ready to wring someone's neck!
love reading your writings about this aspect because it brings back soo many memories! thank u for that
sandeep
hahah laughing out loud at work again.....
Milly
wohoo ;) a husband from 'back home' heheee. Did you reply to any yet??
On a side note, hows your dad doing??
Dear Sandeep -
OMG - Punju horror I get - Delhi horror is a TOTALLY other thing ... I am getting ready to ring necks and cracking heads :) just wait - angst is coming!
And thanks for enjoying the post - I think we can all relate!!!
xo,
Desi Girl
Dear Milly -
OMG - you have NO idea - it is only going to get worse before it gets better .... more soon, I promise!
xo,
Desi Girl
Dear Adventurous Ammena -
Oh yes, back home boy - YIKES! I feel more sorry for them than me! At least I know what they are getting into!
And Dad is good, thank you for asking!
One day at a time!
xo,
Desi Girl
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