The Quest for Prince Charming-The Frogs that I Kissed-Part 2

Alrity...for all those who were born here late...I am not enumerating my fetish for four legged croaky creatures...
I am just naturally assuming the character of a self proclaimed princess who went through the process of self display and mind churning encounters before she could land upon her prince charming...well, not literally ‘land-land’ for then my poor beloved would have been crushed before he could have had a chance to bloom...

In Part 1 of this hopefully two-part trial...I explained how the pear lump rejected me...
Lemme tell here now about a Delhi ke munda for whom I travelled again 440 kilometres in the hope of meeting my Raj, Rahul or Prem (you have to understand that Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge had just released then...and all maidens worth their virginity...oops mettle...were dreaming of bumping into their Raj’s in some khet with a mandolin in hand...even a dumroo would have done...as long as he stretched his arms and did “aaaye...senorita” style! And they would run to him in slow motion with hair going left and right, up and down and a starched stark white duppatta lehrao-ing in the wind...running n running...till....they don’t run into his open arms but get a pat on their heads with a thick book, delivered just in time by their moms to remind them to straighten the upside down notebook and study). Gawsh...pardon me my dear readers for this digression....

Where the f@#$ were we or rather was I?
Acha...the Dilli ka munda...
So the mediators were the same...Le Meridian was declared inauspicious and a humbler abode...in this case a coffee house in Connaught Place was selected as the meeting point.
Same my father, same my mother, same brother n same little miss me...
The same salwaar suit...coz it had been barely a fortnight and such repetitions seemed reasonable!
I was so tempted to voice my opinion...Can’t we see them all in one go, in a day and get over with this? And by now you know that the world’s been saved big time because I’ve chosen to shut my gap at the strategically right moments. So needless to say...I decided to shut the f@#$ up and oblige!

Plus then I was getting a chance to come to Delhi and a whole lot of fuss was being created around me...which not surprisingly I always enjoy to the core!
But this time mediator aunty ji decided to intervene...
“Pinky bhabhi ji (that’s my mom...I know PINKY?????????? But that’s how or rather who she has been and that’s how my brother and I have lived with it....thank god they didn’t call me Rosy...despite the obvious similarities)
So.... “Pinky bhabhi ji...this suit...please don’t mind...but it’s screaming so UP!” (that’s not UP-market mind you...or raised Upper expectations....UP here stand for apna Uttar Pradesh...I could sense how she was aching to say it was “Kanpuriya” implying simple (phuleassssssss not Kanpuriya implying flashy). But then she must have thought that a state reference may be less or rather more affronting than a city one)
Oho somebody please stop me from bloody digressing!

Phew! Focus Suruchi, focus!
Anyways... “So bhabhi ji...I was thinking that since the last munda thought this was very simple...let’s go shopping for some new clothes”. “Oh ya aunty ji”, that’s me, by the way “What do you have in mind...a sexy halter top to match a-flirting-with-the-knees skirt?”
“Na na beta ji...it must be conservative still...but maybe a little more stylish salwaar suit...these metro boys, you know!”

So there....after that began a new torture as I might have tried around 50 salwaar suits to find the right one...as bad as kissing the frogs I’d say....coz when we came out of the stores we had purchased just two of them. So much for the bloody ratio 2:50...damn such statistics. Actually most of them didn’t have my size...thanks to my hereditary big butt where they’d usually get stuck...and then there were other classifications of rejections based on colour, creed n kind...whoever said racial discrimination does not exist...must empathize with the poor breeds of clothes that are mercilessly discarded just because a stupid tailor put orange buttons on a shocking pink outfit or decided to get spade n diamond shaped cuts on the edges of a suit.
Hey bhagwaan...why did you make the side tracks so bloody tempting for my vulnerable resistances?

So cut to the scene....
This Delhi munda comes with his mother and father...he has a sister too, married away somewhere in the country, not exposed to us yet till the discussions n deliberations reach the next level. Yup...SAARC summits beware...this was more controversial, confidential n crucial than all your damned meets put together!

The munda was again not very tall...wore spectacles and had a moustache adorning his almond shaped head. Mind you I said adorning as in actually a decorative piece...not in the least must you confuse it with another adjective “adorable”. Did I just feel that his hands were trembling or was he just fidgety or worse still an early Alzheimer’s case? He was bloody nervous alrite!

My modus operandi this time around had been altered keeping in mind the previous disaster!
“Beta ji...please don’t be quiet this time...speak something...we don’t want the munda to feel you are dumb...alright?” Show him that you are not a simple small towner...okkkkkkkk?”

And when someone tells me to show something....I often go all the way...Please don’t get ideas...what I mean is I go all the way to deliver what is demanded.

So again we-the proposed ‘couple in question’ were told to go and take a walk...
By now I was more relaxed in my skin...being one boy-seeing- ceremony down...but I think that was the virgin attempt of the poor boy, this time around. And this time around, as was decided, I yakked my guts outs...I had to show him Kanpur gals can be hip n happening too...I spoke n he fidgeted...I blabbered and he became more nervous...I used my hands and expressions till he almost became expressionless....
And after the rest of the nitty gritties...
What are my hobbies...what do I like to do...how much and what I have studied...part 2 ordeal also got over! Phew!
Result time: 2 hours later
Verdict: F again...not the f@#$ yaar...big Fail...
Reason: “The gal is too bold for our seedha saadha munda”
Ji, ji...NOW is the F-time beta....WHAT THE BLOODY F@#$!

Needless to say my counsellors sucked!
And when a kingdom has courtiers like that...you can be sure of its doom...I had almost resigned to the fact that probably I would die a frustrated spinster if I followed my so-called well wishers.
But a drowning (wo)man catches at every straw....
I continued to kiss the frogs and feel my mouth turn bitter with every kiss and tell episode...thankfully most continued to be rejected at the sorting table only!

The third munda came along from Pune...
Tall, handsome, some odd 8-10 years older to me...and a Casanova in his hay days...knew it as we knew him through family friends...
This time I thought to take matters in my hands...
And just coz I was rejected two times for no fault of mine...I rejected the poor fellow for no fault of his! Come on...I was 19 then...and entitled to show little traces of dumbness that have blown up with age in my case! Actually I getting to voice my opinion here was anyways a sham as the family had already decided upon disregarding the proposal due to too wide an age gap!
Confession time: His suave manners made me a bit insecure...he was perhaps too good for me...so I backed out! Sigh! Sigh!

Then I remember another cute hottie I was being fixed up with, belonging to my own town...This guy came with almost his whole pind to my school where I was teaching (after passing out from there just a year before) and broke all laws of subtlety...as the news spread like wild fire that someone’s come to “dekho” Suruchi ma’m! He was having a smouldering affair at that time which the whole town knew of, except of course my beloved parents. Besides I knew he’d prove to be too much of a dish to be handled after marriage so that he’s not man handled by the fairer sex in the long run. So though there was a lot of hungama around this one...and everyone thought is baar to sangam hoga he...I kept mum and waited for the next grand rejection. Why rub your fingers in mud when someone else was eager to do the dirty job for you? And so the rejection came and went! We all lived happily ever after for a while!

Finally the fifth time proved lucky as my prince charming managed to find me and released me from this frog kissing spree before it would have become addictive and I might have decided to continue it for a couple of years! More on the drama there for some other time!
Enough for now...all’s well that ends well!
And in my case...by god’s grace...the ends have justified the means...no gains without pains!
And what an awesome gain it has been!
Sorry frogs...another time in another life!