Swiping for Shaadi: Episode 1 - The Pre-Marriageable Age

Anjali balanced herself till she stumbled into the bathroom and managed to grab her toothbrush and paste. She wondered what time it was as she wanted to sneak into her bed and cover herself in the blanket. But she realized that she was not in her shared flat in Mumbai but in her family home in Shastripuram, Agra. Following her usual Mumbai routine would result in a lot of nagging from her Daadi 👵 with a nasty remark, “Bambai jaake dekho kaise bigad gayi ladki!”

Reluctantly, she took a quick shower and with the same, drowsy face and unmanaged hair, plonked on the chair of the dining table in their home courtyard.

“Beta, don’t eat the bread pakoda. You must be eating bread and paav 🍞 all the time in Mumbai. I have made healthy dalia for you. Eat this.” Her kind mother, also lovingly called Kamalaji in the entire Shastripuram area pointed out to her.

“All the delicious things are for the laadli daughter, it seems. And we are getting the usual bread pakoda.” Anjali’s Uncle, Alokji tried to pull her leg.

“Of course, she is our only, laadli daughter who is working in a Mumbai’ MNC. She deserves all the pampering. No one in our family has managed to get a job in a MNC. She has a separate cubicle, free breakfast, and is picked up and dropped home by a special cab service.” Mishraji, the eldest brother of the Mishra family and Anjali’s father flaunted with all pride.

“Papa, there are 150 employees in my company. Everyone is treated in the same way. I am not anyone special; I am a Senior Executive, that’s all.” Anjali quipped in embarrassment 😳 after listening to her father and uncle’s conversation.

“Ha, I know that.” Her father’s voice didn’t seem to find a lower decibel that morning. “But amongst those 150 employees, no one from our family works there except you.” He said with a wide grin.

By the time Anjali had finished her breakfast, her mother shuffled to the garden and checked for her plants. Kamalaji was fond of gardening. In millennial terminology, it was her passion that kept her alive and cheerful amidst all the household work she had to do at home. Moreover, Daadi’s constant demands and expectations would mentally drain her several times, but when she would spot an enchanting rose in her little garden, she would feel ecstatic.

Anjali had never particularly noticed her mother’s hobby as she was never forced or convinced to assist her in gardening work. Kamalaji did everything, all by herself. But Mishraji, her husband, didn’t like his wife paying attention to her garden. He would feel the garden consumed space, energy, time, and money as well, and didn’t serve anything apart from a few familiar flowers (and that didn’t mean to him at all).

“Another plant? Why do you have to add more plants to your little Ashok Vatika? Aren’t these ten plants enough? Now, again you have to care for it, water it and ensure that it is not tampered with by the birds.”

Kamalaji sniffed, pretending that she didn’t hear a word, and tended to the plant. She never argued with her husband and was always gentle with words. But she sulked from within and never shared her deepened, sad feelings with anyone, including her daughter.

“Another packet of fertilizers? Isn’t the tea powder sufficient?” He turned to Anjali and continued his nagging, “Look, your mother has been treating the plants as her kids. She knows I don’t like it, but she does it intentionally, I suppose.” He rose and was about to leave the house as he wore his chappals. Even if it was a Sunday, he had to attend a few meetings in their neighbourhood and talk to the new family that had moved in last week.

“Ma, why do you keep expanding your garden? Papa doesn’t like it. But still….” Anjali groaned, feeling that her father was right. Seriously, if my partner hated something I did, I would never do that. She swore to herself and moved to her room, feeling irritated over the recent happening.

On the other hand, Kamalaji wasn’t mad at her daughter for taking sides with her husband. But she wondered why her husband overreacted whenever she entered her garden. He would agitate as if she had an extra-marital affair or was taking care of the neighbour’s husband.

“It is okay, bhabhi. Bade bhaiya is known for his temper in the neighbourhood. But he is also a saint in our area. You should be lucky to have him as your husband.” Shantiji, the always-complaining wife of Alokji suggested.

“But where is bhaiya? I noticed him leaving when I was in the garden. Has he gone to the store?” Kamalaji asked indignantly.

“God knows where he has gone. I firmly believe that he has taken the theka of all the ladies in the entire neighbourhood.” Shantiji grumbled, balancing her saree pallu, a little aggressively.

“But Shanti, you should be lucky to have a caring husband like Alokji. May my daughter also find someone like him!”

“Caring! Huh!” Shantiji smirked sarcastically and both the ladies hopped to the kitchen, admiring each other’s husbands.

Meanwhile, Anjali slumped on the bed again. She was a pretty girl with long, straight hair, with slightly wheatish (maybe barley-ish!) skin, and thick eyebrows. But apart from gorgeous looks, she was a brilliant kid since childhood. Mishraji encouraged her to learn in the future and join the IIM. Currently, she was working as a Senior Executive in the Credit Cards section of a multinational bank. Yup, she had a separate cubicle, a cab facility to pick up and drop home but as Anjali said, it was for the rest 149 employees of the bank as well.

Her phone buzzed and she almost zapped her phone apps to reach for the messaging app.

Yup, it was from him.

Enjoying ghar ka khana (wink) He had messaged on her WhatsApp status.

Gosh! She could visualize him in person and winking at her instantly. He was not her boyfriend or partner; he was her first and only crush in Mumbai, the typical Mumbaikar, Varun. 🥰

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