Apples and Oranges

Years ago when I was a young boy, I had the dubious distinction of accompanying my mom to the sabzi mandi (Indian fruit and vegetable market). I remember how she would do this elaborate routine of choosing the best of the apples and oranges. She would pick the best looking orange up, turn it all around inspecting its contours in 3D. She would smell it and sometimes she would put it back with a frown on her face while at other times she would happily put it in her basket. The whole process intrigued me. Back home, nine times out of ten, she would be right. The apples and oranges she picked up would be really juicy and ripe. But then there would be that one bad apple that escaped her experienced eyes and would end up in the trash bin.

Finding a wife, by the arranged route, is kind of similar to the process of buying fruits and vegetables. Most of the times, you have 15-20 minutes to decide if the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is a bad apple or good. Unlike fruits, you cannot turn her all around or smell her. That would be weird. But if you are smart, you may ask her her a few soul-searching questions and hope that she would answer them honestly. Even so, there is so much you can do in 20 minutes. But like fruits and vegetables, nine times out of ten, you would be right. The person that you end up marrying would not be a nagging obsessive pyscho but really a cute little princess who would stroll around in the garden of your heart. However, there would be that one time when the whole marriage would be one big rotten apple with worms crawling out and gross stuff like that. So, generally the odds are in your favor. The question is: are you happy with those odds because if you are wrong, it is not the damn apple who is going to the trash bin, it is you and your life. To borrow a term from economics, I am a risk-averse individual. Especially when the stakes are as high as my life. Hence, I thought of trying to see if I could meet someone on my own and get to know her before taking the leap of blind faith.

On the other hand, the other route is not that rosy either. Because the first few months, people just can't help but pretend to be somebody that they are not. They are at their best behavior, they put on their best clothes and lazy suckers like me clean up their apartment or walk other people's dogs with a broad grin on their face. You know how it is. It is the natural way of things. C tells me that she would never marry anybody till she has been with him for a year and half. While that is a tall order, but I can see the logic behind it. It is only with time, that the initial euphoria dies and the true you comes in the forefront. And then when you really really know the other person, you can decide whether he or she is the one who you want to share your life, in sickness and health, in poverty and opulence and other sweet stuff like that. To sum up, in this method, you could literally touch, smell, even Xray the goddamn oranges and apples before you decide which ones you wanna take home to mama. You can still go wrong but then you don't have your parents you can put the blame on because the decision was yours and yours alone.

Anyways, my ramblings on love and ladies go on. The other day somebody wrote that we should strive to be better humans rather than focusing on disparaging others. I agree with that completely. Gandhi wrote: "You must be the change you want to see in this world." It is true that when you are an accomplished individual, you will invariably get the admiration and affection (of ladies) that you seek. The ladies will flock to a bigger better you. I have heard that story for about three years now. And it is my sad duty to report that it is not always true. More so, when your chief modality of finding a wife are online services like you know the names. Women make it amply clear there that they don't want turbaned guys and hence your proposal will be rejected no matter who you are or what you stand for. Call it bad luck or being at the wrong place at the wrong time or any other excuse, but that is the truth. I am all for self-improvement but unfortunately, life is not as rigidly governed by the laws of physics as the pendulum in the Science lab.

Last but not least, C categorically denies that she thinks I am cute when she is in a happy mood. She says that she thinks I am cute even when she is in a bad mood. Only that she does not say it. Also, she did not go to that party because she hates Asian hangouts but because she had other stuff to do. Give the poor girl a break. She is going through enough being with me. Be easy on my sweetie.

Disclaimer: There has been this idea floating around in the comments of an organization to help "crying Harrys" find a wife. Let me make it clear. The idea is that of the anonymous person and his alone. I am neither for nor against such an endeavor. I have known a lot of Sikh organizations way too well to know that most of them end up being either the personal kingdoms of a chosen few or get entangled in a quagmire of personal avarice. Anyways, this blog is my story and I have taken the liberty to extrapolate from my experiences to deduce that other Sikh guys have probably experienced similar things. I have said before that each of us is unique in our own way. You might have had a better luck with Sikh women that I have but do remember that if you are in a room with a giant Gorilla, there is little chance that you would miss it. That Gorilla, ladies and gents, is the dynamic change in our religion. Good or bad, who knows. But it is happening and it is difficult to ignore it.