Rama Rao is not what I expected AT ALL. First of all, he’s desi, but not from India desi. He’s an ABCD. And he’s Southern…waaaaaaaaaaaaaay Southern, with a waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay draaaaaaawl. “Hey, thanks for coming,” I say and let him into the apartment. “Please excuse the boxes, clearly, I’m moving,” I say. “Nah, no problem,” he says, enters and removes his shoes.
Oh this one of the reason I love about desis, we know to take off our shoes upon entering someone’s home without being asked. Stocking footed, Rama Rao walks across the living room and looks at the couch. “Please feel free to sit on it, and inspect the cushions,” I offer and stand near the doorway. I don’t want to hover and I don’t want to go into another room, not that I have many choices, there is a bedroom, kitchen and the loo.
He sits on the couch, fluffs through the pillows, looks at the wood legs and frame, and nods. Rama is slim, not petite or anything, just has a lean frame. He is decent looking and seems nice.
“This couch is in great shape. Is it okay if I call my wife? We were looking for couches all weekend and everything we liked was really expensive. But I think she would like this one,” Rama Rao explains. “Uhm, sure you can call your wife,” I reply slowly. I hope she is not at Wall Street and I will have to entertain Rama Rao for the next hour while we wait.